Sorry to say, but I think I will be seeing you tomorrow … I hope!
So I will leave you with something full of something, a Wallace Stevens poem, about something. I found poetry challenging to say the least, but found some sort of kindred oddball spirit in Steven’s world. I don’t know what it means, but I think it means we see what we want to see in the sea … but that is a shallow read.
Sea Surface Full Of Clouds
Wallace Stevens
I In that November off Tehuantepec, The slopping of the sea grew still one night And in the morning summer hued the deck And made one think of rosy chocolate And gilt umbrellas. Paradisal green Gave suavity to the perplexed machine Of ocean, which like limpid water lay. Who, then, in that ambrosial latitude Out of the light evolved the morning blooms, Who, then, evolved the sea-blooms from the clouds Diffusing balm in that Pacific calm? C’était mon enfant, mon bijou, mon âme. The sea-clouds whitened far below the calm And moved, as blooms move, in the swimming green And in its watery radiance, while the hue Of heaven in an antique reflection rolled Round those flotillas. And sometimes the sea Poured brilliant iris on the glistening blue. II In that November off Tehuantepec The slopping of the sea grew still one night. At breakfast jelly yellow streaked the deck And made one think of chop-house chocolate And sham umbrellas. And a sham-like green Capped summer-seeming on the tense machine Of ocean, which in sinister flatness lay. Who, then, beheld the rising of the clouds That strode submerged in that malevolent sheen, Who saw the mortal massives of the blooms Of water moving on the water-floor? C’était mon frère du ciel, ma vie, mon or. The gongs rang loudly as the windy booms Hoo-hooed it in the darkened ocean-blooms. The gongs grew still. And then blue heaven spread Its crystalline pendentives on the sea And the macabre of the water-glooms In an enormous undulation fled. III In that November off Tehuantepec, The slopping of the sea grew still one night And a pale silver patterned on the deck And made one think of porcelain chocolate And pied umbrellas. An uncertain green, Piano-polished, held the tranced machine Of ocean, as a prelude holds and holds, Who, seeing silver petals of white blooms Unfolding in the water, feeling sure Of the milk within the saltiest spurge, heard, then, The sea unfolding in the sunken clouds? Oh! C’était mon extase et mon amour. So deeply sunken were they that the shrouds, The shrouding shadows, made the petals black Until the rolling heaven made them blue, A blue beyond the rainy hyacinth, And smiting the crevasses of the leaves Deluged the ocean with a sapphire blue. IV In that November off Tehuantepec The night-long slopping of the sea grew still. A mallow morning dozed upon the deck And made one think of musky chocolate And frail umbrellas. A too-fluent green Suggested malice in the dry machine Of ocean, pondering dank stratagem. Who then beheld the figures of the clouds Like blooms secluded in the thick marine? Like blooms? Like damasks that were shaken off From the loosed girdles in the spangling must. C’était ma foi, la nonchalance divine. The nakedness would rise and suddenly turn Salt masks of beard and mouths of bellowing, Would—But more suddenly the heaven rolled Its bluest sea-clouds in the thinking green, And the nakedness became the broadest blooms, Mile-mallows that a mallow sun cajoled. V In that November off Tehuantepec Night stilled the slopping of the sea. The day came, bowing and voluble, upon the deck, Good clown… One thought of Chinese chocolate And large umbrellas. And a motley green Followed the drift of the obese machine Of ocean, perfected in indolence. What pistache one, ingenious and droll, Beheld the sovereign clouds as jugglery And the sea as turquoise-turbaned Sambo, neat At tossing saucers—cloudy-conjuring sea? C’était mon esprit bâtard, l’ignominie. The sovereign clouds came clustering. The conch Of loyal conjuration trumped. The wind Of green blooms turning crisped the motley hue To clearing opalescence. Then the sea And heaven rolled as one and from the two Came fresh transfigurings of freshest blue. From Harmonium | 1923\
| 1923\
May fresh transfigurings of freshest blue roll over you today …
I recently had a bunch of links to “trading rules” posted. Here is a new post where the guy takes 21 items from Livermore and turns them all on their head in snarky talkback style. It’s pretty hilarious, mostly because we’ve all done some of these, and though I hope we aren’t doing them anymore, we can go to a dozen different blogs and find people still doing them today. I try not to get upset about it anymore.
A Losing Trader’s Response To Jesse Livermore’s “21 Rules”
I’m still working on that whole “accept the things you cannot change” thing.
For those of us who like to cook outside, or who just like to cook, period, this might be of interest. I’m looking forward to the next installment.
Well-Tended Fires Outperform Modern Cooking Stoves
Poetry? The one below from Richard Brautigan is more my style.
I feel horrible. She doesn’t
love me and I wander around
like a sewing machine
that’s just finished sewing
a turd to a garbage can lid.
Funny I can’t remember yesterday, but that’s a 40 year old remembrance.
Now for a 50 year old one- Rose o’ Sharon offered her breast and she had a husband with a feminine name. I want to say it was Connie.
The time the head of the Tea Party Patriots got government help
“Martin is not an evil person; her story is just, well, a bit sad. She is indeed a wellspring for that odd tea party message of anti-government self-reliance even while availing oneself of the safety net the government provides, the muddled indignation at the thought of having to pay taxes for other people’s safety net coupled with the blithe assumption that the same safety net will of course be there for you if you need it.”
“I wanna thank you for loanin’ me the Donger.”
Being from Canada, one should already be aware of the more popular use of that word as one of our Northern friends’ phrases that crossed over here years ago:
Guy one: “How’s it hangin’ Buddy?”
Guy two: “Long and strong like a bull moose dong!”
I sure didn’t know back in Feb that I was actually photographing pendentives at the Chattanooga Choo Choo Hotel.
detail
oops
the dome
Sometimes it’s hard to tell just what type o’ dong we’re looking at. Here’s a handy guide.
Well, if you can’t read the names of the missiles, then the joke pretty much blows.
Uh oh, I just saw that the dome pic I posted had a watermark from some HDR software I have on free trial. Lest you think I’m a fraud and got it elsewhere, let me assure you it’s mine. Here’s the original. I only post photos I have taken and I will tell you “not mine” if from a different source. Must be the Sagittarius in me to care what you think.
Here’s what it can do
again
I finally got smart, two ways. First if you forget to resize before you post, you’ll know because it takes too long to load. Simply close browser window and start over. That resize bug bit me many times.
Second, I created a new file called Xty that I only put resized photos into to draw from. Good to go, or so I thought, then the watermark shit.
Now all I have to do is send them a hundred bucks and the watermark magically disappears. And then there is another program I need to complement that, costs the same. Did I mention I’m looking at a $2000 lens?
Holy shit, do I have to downsize my refreshments? I just recently upgraded from Brandy to Scotch and I was liken’ it.
What kind of lens? And that isn’t expensive for good editing software, although apple has something called pixelmator (I know, but I don’t get to name these things) that was only 20 bucks and has too many features… looks like photoshop but I am ham-fisted when it comes to layers and things.
My favourite toy is my big canon lens. It was a used truck or a happy spouse is about how hubby worded it, but it is a long lens I have really used and used. I now stick with a 50, 105 and the big guy:
I also totally care about stuff like posting my own pictures, and I can see how the watermark would niggle at your brain.
Btw, do Americans go to school based on the age they are on Jan 1st or some date set in the summer? Could being the baby in the class, as most Sagittarius and the occasional, exceptional, Capricorn usually are, have affected your character? It certainly made it unlikely one would be picked for sports teams, although I stayed a runt in later years. Actually, it was unlikely I would have been picked anyhow, but it was an interesting thing we bumped into and then read about, how in hockey in particular, January babies are disproportionately in A leagues because when they are young they are the biggest in September when the sort happens.
And good morning. I have obviously been wrestling with mood lately, but spent lots of yesterday hand-weeding the lawn, which sounds bad, but isn’t. The clover in particular comes up in big long strands if you are careful, and it colonizes the lawn by building lumps. I should add that our lawn is a mess of weeds and we never treat it properly, other than starting to toss seed on it in the spring. It is also a frequent stop for pooches as we have more lawn frontage than most, because our house is built sideways on a double lot, and most of the houses are what we call semi’s, two houses attached with one wall.
It makes our house sound fancy, but it is a falling down shack, and we are currently hoping the vines will hold the porch on for another season. It is the lot that is special. And the house was an after-thought on the street – the first infill – I have to hate myself. But the garden has been a labour of love, and digging in the dirt cathartic. After all the rain that hammered us (thanks) the weeds came up easily. Now it looks like we have been attacked by voles.
But I am shaking off the doldrums, and appreciate your patience in the interim.
When I was a lad, the cutoff was October, I think, making me among the youngest in my class with my Sept birthdate. This made me still only 17 for my first month or so as a college freshman, when I met my wife-to-be, which still sort of blows my mind for some reason. I was still a child, ferchrissakes. I still tease her that she robbed the cradle.
By the time my kids came along they had moved the cutoff to August, apparently deciding that those poor September kids were horribly disadvantaged. And maybe I was. Getting picked for sports was spotty, and so was getting a date, since the other boys always seemed to have a few more whiskers than I. Mostly, girls only seemed to talk to me when they needed help with their math homework.
The Krugman has a good article this morning, exposing one of the core problems with the Righties. Way to go Paul.
“…a firm conviction that the government can’t do anything useful — a dogmatic belief in public-sector incompetence — is now a central part of American conservatism, and the incompetence dogma has evidently made rational analysis of policy issues impossible.”
The Incompetence Dogma
This is the one I want. Would go on a T3i to complement the 15-85 that I use most. Didn’t know you were a Canon girl…..that’s sexy!
[EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS II USM]
EF
70-200mm
f/2.8L IS II
USM
$2,499.00
Ooh, lens envy!
It’s nearly time for me to do a popcorn update, and I’ll take the picture with…um…my phone. Sorry.
I do love you guys’ pics tho!
Awesome article. Written by a billionaire who is out pounding the table about how trickle down economics is bullshit, and we better get busy raising the minimum wage or else. Or else, it’s the pitchforks coming for guys like him.
The Pitchforks Are Coming… For Us Plutocrats