IDLEGLORY BLOG

photography by sakura love

Under a hard Season, fired up by the Sun
Languishes man, languishes the flock and burns the pine
We hear the cuckoo’s voice; then sweet songs of the turtledove and finch are heard.
Soft breezes stir the air… but threatening north wind sweeps them suddenly aside.
The shepherd trembles, fearing violent storms and his fate.
The fear of lightning and fierce thunder
Robs his tired limbs of rest
As gnats and flies buzz furiously around.
Alas, his fears were justified
The Heavens thunders and roar and majestically
Cuts the head off the wheat and damages the grain.
Vivaldi’s Four Seasons – Summer

Just finished reading several books from the Wizard of Oz series as per my New Year’s resolutions to read the entire collection (9/42). I’ve been borrowing quite a few books from the children’s collection at Simon Fraser University’s, Bennett Library.

The Patchwork Girl features various odd quirks that one wouldn’t usually notice in children literature, such as determining specific qualities that define if you are ’smart’ or ‘crazy,’ food pills that contain an entire feast of food, foolish owls and wisdom of camels.
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Sonata For Jukebox: An Autobiography Of My Ears by Geoffrey O’Brien

Hearing, after all, is in the first place involuntary.

The baby on the rug (the listener I once was) soaks up these surrounding ambient sounds. As he absorbs them he changes them. Kitchen murmur of adults, wind raking trees radio jingle buzz, noon siren, rumble of car rounding a bend: its is a river of sound he does not so much hear as inhabit.

“It’s an odd life we live in Los Angeles, a city that uses freeways and wide boulevards to divide people by race and class. We spend most of our time encased in metal and glass; in our homes, our cars, at work.

Unlike any real city, we only walk where “it’s safe”-those outdoor malls and ersatz city blocks we’ve created to feel like we’re still part of humanity, if only humanity could afford to shop where we do…

We no longer truly feel the touch of strangers as we brush past them on the street.”

Sourced from an interview with director Paul Haggis about the film CRASH:

“You are all a lost generation.” – Gertrude Stein in conversation

Finished reading The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. Damn good story. The characters are filled with forgetful disillusionment and get drunk in offhand ways. The wild nightlife of Paris in the first half, the bull fights and drunk depressions and fiestas in Spain next; ocurring during the 1920′s: the post-World War I generation.

Scenery descriptions and conversations follow the same roundabout talking-of-nothing in the same style as Hills Like White Elephants. It was tedious and interesting to follow thoughts with no end, the little things in life disappear and the big things are so faraway we can’t see them. Its a good read about those of the lost generation.

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A great American poet once wrote, “Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you.”

“He had to be a genius or nothing, and since he couldn’t be creative he turned to bohemianism, eccentricity, social versatility, conquests.”
Allan Ginsberg

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