It’s been a hard day’s night
And I’ve been working like a dog
It’s been a hard day’s night
I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you
I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright
From “A Hard Day’s Night” by the Beatles
Ride like the wind!
Not quite
Luke and I
are more of a zephyr
(a gentle wind)
with only brief moments of turbulence…
“Work the shot,” experienced photographers say…
Each night I set my boats to sea and leave them to their bawdy business. Whether they drift off maddened, moon-rinsed, or dock in the morning scuffed and chastened— is simply how it is, and I gather them in. ~ from “Describe Yourself in Three Words or Less” by Rita Dove (this poem and eleven…
I’ve been obsessively writing for a few weeks. I’ve entered a secret world of words that I can get lost in for hours. Picture some kind of matrix scene where probes are attached to my head and I’m twitching and people are shaking me and yelling, “Maery! Maery! Wake up!”
I am beginning to think that I would have been better off getting studded tires for my Neko than getting a fat tire bike for riding on snow. My biking so far this winter has been mainly on ice.
I’ve been trying to remember what it was like to be a kid — to remember what I played at and imagined and loved. I want to see if the things I started out loving provide clues to how to bring those playful feelings (free, light, uninhibited, unworried about outcome, adaptable, unrestricted) back into my way too serious life.
