The wind lifted me…like wings.


Notes:

  • Photo: A woman’s red tress blow in the air on a windy day in San Sebastian, in the Basque Country of northern Spain.  (wsj.com: Juan Herrero/EPA-EFE, Feb 1, 2019)
  • Post inspired by Ray Bradbury from “The Lake” in Dark Carnival: “I ran. Sand spun under me and the wind lifted me. You know how it is, running, arms out so you feel veils from your fingers, caused by wind. Like wings.” (via Beth @ Alive on All Channels)

 

Saturday Morning

I will cut adrift—

I will sit on pavements & drink coffee—

I will dream;

I will take my mind out of its iron cage & let it swim—this fine October.

— Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry c. Wednesday, October 15, 1927


Photo via 8tracks.com

Cut it. Cut it in half.

Saturday, January 27, 2018

[fragment]

How does one begin to describe Saturday mornings? That lazy, lay-in-bed, nothing-to-do, no-where-to-go feeling. Is this what retirement feels like?

I hoist myself up, lean against headboard, adjust the laptop and screen brightness and begin ingesting data, photos, emails and the morning news. There’s a Metro North train whistle in the distance, Manhattan bound. Thank God that’s not me.

It’s 7:34 a.m. 16 minutes from opening.  We’ve officially boycotted The Salon after the last and final experience in Red Lines, Banalities and Grumpy Middle Aged Men.

So, we’re back. Back to Barber Shop. I pull into the lot at 7:57 a.m. and a “We’re Open” sign hangs from the door.

“Good morning!”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, anyone is fine.”
“Ok, no worries, we’ll be right with you.”

Wait time: 2 minutes.

“How would you like it?”

“Not short. Light trim, please.” Are you kidding? Crew cut. Tight. High and Tight. Flat top. Trim. This is a Barber Shop. Like it matters. The precision here is akin to cutting your lawn with a scythe v. a Honda power mower.

He grabs his bottle and spritzes me. Water droplets snail down my forehead. The mist clears, and there is me, staring at me in the mirror. Wow. Look at you. When did this happen? A few desperate hairs cover the front end of your scalp. That ain’t a flattering picture Pal.

And he gets after it. With a whole lot of electric clipper and not much scissor.

[Read more…]

Zoned Out

There are the lucky few who zone out their windows and stare at brinks. The faraway intrigue of a forest— how it conspires— or the streaked lines of an ocean fringed by its horizon, or a city with more sky than scrapers, or even the informality of a backyard at dawn. But there are those— my friend and I— who can zone out, quite easily, to whatever’s right in front of us, no matter how unspectacular. A poorly painted wall. Its cracks. The ceiling fan’s chop. A woman on the C train pulling her ponytail through its tie, not once or twice, but six times. Six complete loops; her fingers closing into a claw each time. It’d been months since I’d been to a museum, but watching this woman mechanically tie her hair was softly enormous.

~ Durga Chew-Bose, from “Heart Museum” in Too Much and Not the Mood: Essays


Image: deryhana

Miracle. All of it.

eye-sleep-face-skin

Each hair on your head is replaced every 2 to 7 years
A hundred hairs fall out every day and new ones grow back in their place

And look at your fingernails – they’re completely new every six months or so

The lining of your stomach and intestines
gets pretty beat up — it’s constantly exposed to acid and bile
and so those cells get replaced every few days

Every few weeks, your outer layer of skin is completely renewed

Every four months you have a fresh army of red blood cells
A hundred million new cells are born every minute and a hundred million old cells are destroyed
It’s actually the breakdown products of these red blood cells that turn your bruises and urine yellow

Every 10 years, you’ve got a new skeleton
a special team of cells breaks down old bone
and another builds new bone

Every 15 years your muscles are refreshed
You might think you gain and lose fat cells when you gain and lose weight
but the actually just get bigger and smaller
Over the course of 25 years though, most of them turn over

But there are a few things that stick around for your entire life

About half of your heart stays with you from birth to death because those cells
are replaced very slowly

Certain parts of your brain add a few new neurons over the course of your life
but the vast majority of your neurons developed before you were born
It’s the connections between those neurons — the circuits that store memories —
that are constantly changing

And there’s one more part of you that lasts your whole life (your eyes)
Months before you were born,
little cluster of cells stretched and filled themselves with transparent protein
As you grew, even after birth, more and more fibers were added, but that center endured
This is your lens the window through which you are watching this video right now
and its core has remained the same since the moment you first opened your eyes

~ Adam Cole and Ryan Kellman, excerpts from Your Body’s Real Age


Notes:

  • Photo:  Bang Sang Hyeok #305 (via Precious Things)
  • Inspired by Albert Einstein’s quote: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
  • Related Posts: Miracle. All of it.

 

Sunday Morning

hair-close-up

While she cooked she’d looked out the window and the daffodils were blooming around the birdbath, and Henry was home, and the house was quiet, and she felt her own luck. There was Henry home and Charlie and Tommy and her house with the bird feeder and summer vacation soon and she felt her own luck at having this quiet moment, this life, this day.

~ Sharon Guskin, The Forgetting Time: A Novel


Photo: Elif Sanem Karakoc

 

Holy Crap, how DID I get so lucky?

Sad man worrying about hair loss problem

32 years of marriage.

We can rely on the integrity of my portioning of responsibility for the tenor of the marriage or you can call on the Children, those coming from her womb…still tethered…but, come on, you can’t really count on them to be objective, right?

Or, you can come to your own conclusion.

Listen up.

There are ground rules, rails, that permit the Holy Union to remain One for more than 30 years.  There are simple rules that follow a grueling day: 1) no requests to share the day’s highlights and 2) the maintenance of a strict quiet zone for 10-15 minutes. That’s it.

So, when simple rules are broken, the Union is tested.

It’s 6:45 pm. It’s the tail end of a long day.  I’m sitting alone at the kitchen table. The fork hovers over meatloaf, mashed potatoes and a generous river of brown gravy. Susan sits in the family room (respecting the quiet zone).  The Nightly News offers background noise with gaps filled with commercials for Viagra, Depends and Bradshaw pitching remedies for Shingles.  The irritation level ratchets up from high to Red Zone. Network idiots feeding me this crap during the dinner hour. Are there no boundaries? [Read more…]

They are merely carried. . . set down, picked up, and dropped again (do over)

portrait,blond

Make no mistake. Everything in the mind is in rat’s country. It doesn’t die. They are merely carried, these disparate memories, back and forth in the desert of a billion neurons, set down, picked up, and dropped again by mental pack rats. Nothing perishes, it is merely lost till a surgeon’s electrode starts the music of an old player piano whose scrolls are dust. Or you yourself do it, tossing in the restless nights, or even in the day on a strange street when a hurdy-gurdy plays. Nothing is lost, but it can never be again as it was. You will only find the bits and cry out because they were yourself. Nothing can begin again and go right, but still it is you, your mind, picking endlessly over the splintered glass of a mirror dropped and broken long ago.  That is all time is at the end when you are old – a splintered glass. I should never have gone to that place, never have accepted the engagement, never have spoken….

~ Loren Eiseley, “The Rat That Danced” from “All the Strange Hours. The Excavation of a Life.”


Image: Broadstreet.com.au via Starwill

Super Hyper Hair

hair-wrap-painting-hyper-realism

“Jacques Bodin is a french hyperrealist painter who lives and works in Paris. Most of his paintings are made in an almost absurd scale and magnification, so the subject becomes a kind of abstraction separating it from ordinary reality and endowing it with a life of its own.”

Don’t miss more hyperrealistic hair paintings at Faith is Torment: Jacques Bodin

Find Bodin’s website and gallery here: Jacquesbodin.com.


Source: This Isn’t Happiness

A Murmur. Yes, Maybe.

big-red-hair-wind

For once
the mocking, predictable voice
inside my head that says “No way”
is silent.
In fact, I think I can just barely make out
some other, quieter voice, whispering,
“Maybe.”

― Katrina Kenison, Magical Journey: An Apprenticeship in Contentment


Photograph: Anka Zhuravleva (“Ginger“)

 

 

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