Wednesday, October 22, 2025
Monday, October 20, 2025
Sunday, October 19, 2025
Friday, October 17, 2025
Tuesday, October 14, 2025
More “magnificent desolation”
Avg temperature: minus-85 Fahrenheit. Go for it, Elon!
https://www.threads.com/@curiositydeepspace/post/DPwMVxYiQFx?xmt=AQF0xzpuMTEzJwieZG2fz2eqBF1zkEDdvD5K_WJA0oB6KA&slof=1
Sunday, October 12, 2025
The ❤️ of Dog
https://www.threads.com/@janecataniastylist/post/DPsfms1k0NK?xmt=AQF0z1IlFvN81F7-m7Rn8idYWV0DIKzNOPib0uGO6VXxvg&slof=1
(also remembering what Annie Hall said about her Great Dane…)
Saturday, October 11, 2025
Think like a dog?
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-minute-therapist/202509/think-like-a-dog
For humans, though, some moments are capacious enough to include thought of past and future. They have their place, and their point.So have the moments of pure presence. Thinking the right thoughts at the right time (and knowing when to stop thinking): that's the challenge.
Wednesday, October 8, 2025
Accountancy
Adding It Up
by Philip Booth
My mind's eye opens before
the light gets up. I
lie awake in the small dark,
figuring payments, or how
to scrape paint; I count
rich women I didn't marry.
I measure bicycle miles
I pedaled last Thursday
to take off weight; I give some
passing thought to the point
that if I hadn't turned poet
I might well be some other
sort of accountant. Before
the sun reports its own weather
my mind is openly at it:
I chart my annual rainfall.
or how I'll plant seed if
I live to be fifty. I look up
words like "bilateral symmetry"
in my mind's dictionary; I consider
the bivalve mollusc, re-pick
last summer's mussels on Condon Point,
preview the next red tide, and
hold my breath: I listen hard
to how my heart valves are doing.
I try not to get going
too early: bladder permitting,
I mean to stay in bed until six;
I think in spirals, building
horizon pyramids, yielding to
no man's flag but my own.
I think of Saul Steinberg:
I play touch football on one leg,
I seesaw on the old cliff, trying
to balance things out: job,
wife, children, myself.
My mind's eye opens before
my body is ready for its
first duty: cleaning up after
an old-maid Basset in heat.
That, too, I inventory:
the Puritan strain will out,
even at six a.m.; sun or no sun,
I'm Puritan to the bone, down to
the marrow and then some:
if I'm not sorry I worry,
if I can't worry I count.
"Adding It Up" by Philip Booth from Lifelines: Selected Poems 1950-1999. © Viking Penguin, 2000. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)
https://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php%3Fdate=2008%252F10%252F08.html
