What a dog might say

21 Aug

https://www.ted.com/talks/billy_collins_two_poems_about_what_dogs_think_probably

Advice For Dating With Asperger’s: Don’t Call 100 Times A Week

9 Aug

From NPR: This seem appropriate – a day late and dollar short.

On Joy and Sorrow

4 Aug

The Prophet
by Khalil Gibran

Knopf

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the reassure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

 

Look out! It’s a Nice Guy! DESTROY HIM!!11!

24 Jun

 

Video

The Writing is on the Wall

24 Jun

Proof of Concept

6 May

I tweeted two people the following information:

3D Printer Pen

One was grateful, the other not. Absolutely confirming what I had already known and written about here.

It is all about context, isn’t it.

What I sent in and of itself is not offensive, but the response it provoked was.

And so it goes.

The Soldier

29 Apr

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

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