Notes:
My reading backlog, tweaking me, ever present, ever growing.
Unread books on night stand.
Unread eBooks slumbering on my Kindle.
Unread magazines. Hard copy + digital.
Unread newspapers. Hard copy + digital.
Unread articles and blog posts on my Pocket App and Evernote App.
Unread emails in a reading folder on gmail.
All swelling, bulging, throbbing – an alien blob slime slowly cutting oxygen.
Kooser chanting: I travel the endless reaches of my ignorance, all of the books I haven’t read, and never will, come rolling at me out of the dark like a hail of asteroids.
Apparently, I don’t suffer my affliction alone:
“Many people are drowning in magazines, articles, newsletters, books and blogs they want or need to read. Is it possible to get to Magazine Zero?…”
“Three in four people say they feel overwhelmed some or all of the time by too much information from magazines, newspapers and other media…”
“Everybody has this deep dark feeling that they aren’t keeping up…”
“I hope at some point I’ll catch up…”
Read more on how others are coping here: How to Declutter Your Magazine Pile: Prioritize and ‘ABR —always be reading” with digital apps and iPods
Image Source: sentimientos-en-el-aire
keta /KAY-tah/
n. an image that inexplicably leaps back into your mind from the distant past.
You are immersed in the passage of time. Sometimes you can feel the current moving. Sometimes you forget it’s there, only to be reminded again, another in a series of passing moments. A moment is defined by its momentum. It keeps moving. We think of a memory as somehow dead. As a memorial, anchored in its own time and place. A half buried reminder of what was once here. You can’t just hang on to things. You have to let go. You have to move on. It’s hard to imagine that certain memories are still alive. Still fighting against the current. Struggling to keep up. That certain images still have the power to leap back into the present. So you look across the room at someone you know. Maybe they’re all grown up. Maybe they have children of their own. Maybe you’ve known them for 50 years. But in your eyes they are still the same goofy kid you once knew. It’s not just the moments that we remember. Not the grand gestures and catered ceremonies. Not the world we capture poised and smiling in photos. It’s the invisible things. In minutes. The cheap raw material of ordinary time. These are the images that will linger in your mind, moving back and forth. Still developing.
~ John Koenig
Source: Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
See more by John Koenig: Sunday Morning: Sonder
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you have ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
~ Derek Walcott, Love After Love
Derek Alton Walcott, 83, was born in Saint Lucia in the West Indies. He is a poet and playwright who received the 1992 Nobel Prize in Literature. He is currently Professor of poetry at the University of Essex in the U.K. In addition to having won the Nobel, Walcott has won many literary awards over the course of his career including an Obie Award in 1971, a MacArthur Foundation “genius” award, a Royal Society of Literature Award, the Queen’s Medal for Poetry. (Source: Wiki)
Photograph of Derek Walcott (in 2003) by Richard Avedon. Poem Source: journalofanobody
The Lilac-breasted Roller “is found in sub-Saharan Africa and the southern Arabian Peninsula, preferring open woodland and savanna; it is largely absent from treeless places. Usually found alone or in pairs, it perches conspicuously at the tops of trees, poles or other high vantage points from where it can spot insects, lizards, scorpions, snails, small birds and rodents moving about at ground level. Nesting takes place in a natural hole in a tree where a clutch of 2–4 eggs is laid, and incubated by both parents, who are extremely aggressive in defence of their nest, taking on raptors and other birds. During the breeding season the male will rise to great heights, descending in swoops and dives, while uttering harsh, discordant cries. The sexes are alike in coloration. Juveniles do not have the long tail feathers that adults do. It is also the national bird of Botswana and Kenya.” (Source: Wiki)
Image Source: Fairy-Wren
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The crested caracara is in the falcon family but not fast-flying aerial hunters, but rather sluggish and often scavengers. They are found in Cuba, South America, Central America and Mexico and in the southernmost parts of the U.S. The Northern Caracara has a length of 19-23 inches, a wingspan of 42-51 inches and weighs 1.8-2.9 pounds. It is broad-winged and long-tailed. It has long legs and frequently walks and runs on the ground. The Northern Caracara is an omnivorous scavenger that mainly feeds on carrion. The live prey they do catch is usually immobile, injured, incapacitated or young. Prey species can include small mammals,amphibians, reptiles, fish, crabs, insects, their larvae, earthworms, shellfish and young birds. The voice of this species is a low rattle. (Source: Wiki)
Image Source: Thank you Steve Layman via Head Like An Orange
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Source: fairy-wren
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