When I say I’m rigging at a circus, it’s not a euphemism. That little black spot kneeling on the ground spotting that silks act is me.
Morning thought arising out of conversations my wife and I have reading the Sunday New York Times…
Art always does its job.
The job of art is to make you feel something… Anything. Even indifference is a feeling.
Encounter more art and let it do its job.
If you have a problem with them, and them, and them, and them, the problem is probably you.
The Hate Machine
I wrote this on Twitter about Twitter a couple of nights ago:
This is a pretty little hate machine.
Outrage packaged and presented as gifts.
Kindness and hope pushed out to the edges.
Teetering on the edge of a cliff.
Our thoughts and cares and dreams were once here.
Now we rage into an abyss.
This morning, John Gruber posted this.
I sense a theme here.
Updated my Now page. Check it out if you want to know where my head and time are at these days.
This is, perhaps, the most buried lede I’ve ever come across. Just when you think they’ve told the story behind the story, they drop a bomb about 5 minutes in. Amazing.
"Strange Fruit," a protest song about lynching made famous by Billie Holiday, was written not by an African American activist, but by a Jewish high school teacher from New York.@CBSMMiller looks at the song's backstory. Warning, the photo that inspired the song is disturbing. pic.twitter.com/Ieu6GFJjsm
— CBS This Morning (@CBSThisMorning) April 24, 2021
In line with my morning hike; Can you get fit just from walking?
Scenes from a morning hike with my friend Matthew…
Well, did she make you cry
Make you break down
Shatter your illusions of love?
And is it over now, do you know how?
Pick up the pieces and go home
Beatrix: “This is just not my day.”
Me: “Why?”
B: “I didn’t wake up to my alarm.”
Me: “What woke you up then?”
B: “My second alarm.”
… The only thing better than having a plan is having a backup plan.