Phileas Fog and Clearing Mind

₩ a n d e r :: ℒust

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Sun, 16 Jun 2013 15:04:00 +0000

Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.
- Isabelle Eberardt

ℰverything changℯs and ℰnds ...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 06:24:00 +0000

but ...

: खुश बसंत पंचमी :

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 20:29:00 +0000

Om Sarva Chaithanya Roopam

Thaam Aadyaam Vidyaam Cha

Dheemahi Buddhim Yo Nah

Pracodayat

: Est assez l'amour ? :

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 16:00:00 +0000

Ah me! why may not love and life be one? -Henry Timrod

Missä se on ...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Sun, 23 May 2010 12:19:00 +0000

... or rather where I'm at.

Summer Travels...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 16:28:00 +0000

'In any field, find the strangest thing and then explore it.'

-John Archibald Wheeler

Ghazal

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 20:02:00 +0000

I’ll do what I must if I’m bold in real time.
A refugee, I’ll be paroled in real time.

Cool evidence clawed off like shirts of hell-fire?
A former existence untold in real time ...

The one you would choose: Were you led then by him?
What longing, O Yaar, is controlled in real time?

Each syllable sucked under waves of our earth—
The funeral love comes to hold in real time!

They left him alive so that he could be lonely—
The god of small things is not consoled in real time.

Please afterwards empty my pockets of keys—
It’s hell in the city of gold in real time.

God’s angels again are—for Satan!—forlorn.
Salvation was bought but sin sold in real time.

And who is the terrorist, who the victim?
We’ll know if the country is polled in real time.

“Behind a door marked DANGER” are being unwound
the prayers my friend had enscrolled in real time.

The throat of the rearview and sliding down it
the Street of Farewell’s now unrolled in real time.

I heard the incessant dissolving of silk—
I felt my heart growing so old in real time.

Her heart must be ash where her body lies burned.
What hope lets your hands rake the cold in real time?

Now Friend, the Beloved has stolen your words—
Read slowly: The plot will unfold in real time.

-Agha Shahid Ali

El Jardin

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 20:23:00 +0000

Well, yes I was aware the Academy Awards were well over but I was rooting (tee!) for this documentary myself.

The Full Glass Now Empty

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 16:32:00 +0000

1932-2009

Not much more to say than reiterating what a deep loss Mr Updike's passing is to those of us who cherished his work and worth. His last New Yorker essay, The Full Glass is a poignant vestige.

Sump'in for Friday...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 21:07:00 +0000

New Year...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Thu, 01 Jan 2009 20:43:00 +0000

ANOTHER full-orbed year hath waned to-day,

And set in the irrevocable past,

And headlong whirled long

Time's winged blast

My fluttering rose of youth is borne away: Ah rose once crimson with the blood of May,

A honeyed haunt where bees would break their fast,

I watch thy scattering petals flee aghast,

And all the flickering rose-lights turning grey.

______________________

Poor fool of life! plagued ever with thy vain Regrets and futile longings! were the years Not cups o'erbrimming still with gall and tears?

Let go thy puny personal joy and pain!

If youth with all its brief hope disappears,

To deathless hope we must be born again.

-Mathilde Blind

Christmas Folly

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 18:29:00 +0000

I hear the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet

The words repeat

Of Peace on Earth, good will to men!

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

: St Nicholas :

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 18:46:00 +0000

-JRR Tolkien

'St Nicholas, mon bon patron,

Envoyez-moi quelque chose de bon.'

-French St Nicholas Prayer

Different Kinds of Leftovers...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 23:26:00 +0000

Well... the carcass has been cleaned and there are the frenzied shopping daze to look forward to ahead with crowds of mindless fiends grabbing for everything in sight.

I still find it amazing, seeing how we're supposedly in an economic crisis, that the ambivalence and deep-set denial just phases no one- $$-away! Then there are those who are really bunking-down and sacrificing themselves for their deprived children as the NYtimes wastes commentary on-- what's a woman to do if she can't buy those designer jeans-- oh, I'm going to cry!

Meanwhile Mumbai has it's own beast running amok and I had to stop a moment and take a double take of the New Agey Deepak Chopra suddenly sounding like a connected and interested SA native speaking from a level of genuine concern. Of course he's broadcasting from the comforts of Cali, (and I think I almost was hearing some of the dripping hooey trying to seep out with the "inflammation creates more inflammation" prognosis) as most of us can just meekly observe, shudder and keep our thoughts with those caught up in within this unfolding tragedy.

Think it's time to stop "wishing" things will get better and start engaging in much more profound and meaningful ways that can bridge dialogue and further understanding of just what is at stake here, how our politics and policies and $$ affect all of us in means we just don't want to contemplate fully... especially when our stomachs remain full- satiety can dull one to complete complacency.

-t

: Ringraziamento Felice :

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 06:01:00 +0000

And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express,
Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less,
That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below,
And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow...
- John Greenleaf Whittier

A Diet of Hope... Don't Forget the Tums

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 14:03:00 +0000

Seems Mr Hitchens and I were on the same serendipitous wavelength...

Barack to Reality: Obama's victory didn't magically eliminate America's problems and enemies

Back To Reality...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 21:20:00 +0000

... I have to tell myself at this point what I loved in this man: his boundless energy and curiosity; his ability to appreciate small mundane urban things, like gratings, corners, cast-off objects; a kind of stolid determination and ingenuity in exploring unfamiliar terrain, both artistic and theoretical, his melancholy face, his sensitivity. Does one have to articulate such thoughts or do they become apparent in everyday interaction, through gesture and look? Did I assume too much or was he simply not receptive? Was I really so parsimonious with look, gesture, and word? ---------

On Everyone's Mind...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 16:28:00 +0000

Fall, Leaves, Fall

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Wed, 08 Oct 2008 16:31:00 +0000

Fall, leaves, fall;

die, flowers, away;

Lengthen night and shorten day;

Every leaf speaks bliss to me

Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow

Blossom where the rose should grow;

I shall sing when night's decay

Ushers in a drearier day.
-Emily Bronte

Saturday Meanderings...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Sat, 04 Oct 2008 16:24:00 +0000

: Mordego :

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 17:07:00 +0000

Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, canceled, made nothing? If not, you will never really change.

-D.H. Lawrence

Shine On...

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 18:13:00 +0000

Sad day as another creative soul has been lost.

Ozymandias

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 18:21:00 +0000

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert... Near them on the sand,

Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,

The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal these words appear:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains: round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

Wild One

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 04:15:00 +0000

The Eat Local Challenge has started in our state this past Friday and runs until Sunday. It's a ripe time within the season to put you money where your mouth and taste buds should be- straight to the source vs mega-agri-biz farms that have monopolized and literally ruined not only the soil and land, but generations of farmers that have tilled the Earth and provided for countess mouths and minds.

Raj Patel's book Stuffed and Starved and continued efforts are blazing nicely ahead and there is a nice tidbit over at Grist Mill worth the read.

Bonne Appetite!

Never does nature say one thing and wisdom another.

-Juvenal

: nostalgique :

noreply@blogger.com (Tráese) — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 17:45:00 +0000

Ahh... the past couple of weeks watching both the DNC & RNC have jolted me to such inspirational highs, and this week, to such demoralizing lows- bleh!

Truly this has been the biggest comedic performance (ultimately damaging and tragic if to come to pass by mindless voter-monkeys!) I have seen drawn out to such oafish lengths, then blasted upon every media outlet for "analysis" and discussion that bears a resemblance of a dog chasing its tail. Nothing but the Charlie Brown voices in the background I hear rambling idiotic God-fearing invocations from relatively dare I say, young individuals. What gives with all of this rubbish? Where we're heading I fear more.

Suddenly I'm reminiscing my teenage angst-ModPunk-imbued days, guess we're all regressing a little these days.

'That's Entertainment'! La-la-Laaaa...