I had a literary passage about painting, of all things, from Franny & Zooey, and was going to quote it extensively today, but forgot the book. It will probably still be relevant Monday, as the painting is going slower than I thought it would. (Although painting the ceiling twice might have something to do with it. On the up side, I do know how to use a paint roller now.) Anyway, continuing the second theme of the week, here are somre more horses. The littlest one is a palomino paint! I would call him Barney!
|So all this talk of paint horses, and spotted animals (did we all like the alpaca’s ear pom-poms?), coupled with constantly wiping ups drips of latex paint, made me think of the Gerard Manley Hopkins (great name) sonnet on spotted things.|
This is a lovely picture of a very fine paint horse. I’ve always liked paint horses, and “paint” may just become the topic of the week, because someone may be painting her room this week and may be learning about textured ceilings and paint rollers. Maybe.
But we can always remember yesterday’s post and think of the finished result (if someone is actually painting, after all) and say, maybe while rolling a ceiling, “Paint is a guppy.”
(But not this paint horse. He would be called Rob.)
Today’s literary phrase (in the title, in case you’re confused) is courtesy of my roommate, during a discussion on perspective. We were talking about how intensely sad (or joyful) something can be at the time, but as time passes, the intensity fades, until it’s almost unbelieveable you ever felt that way.
My roommate used the analogy of a child being sad about the death of his pet fish: He’s heartbroken at the time, but remembering the experience as an adult doesn’t carry the same weight. It may still be a sad memory, but it’s not a tragedy.
At this point in the conversation my rommate pauses, and I, wanting to sum up, volunteer, “So the past is a guppy?” Which effectively ends all deep thoughts in the conversation but was fun to say.
This is a picture of orcas in Antarctica. (That actually might be a good Potential Band Name: Orcas In Antarctica.) The water is cold. The ice is cold. The orcas probably aren’t cold, because they have blubber, but I am cold today because I wore the new spring leggings-and-skirt-combo. So we have a cold picture.
(noun): A state of extreme drunkenness.
Origin: mid 17th century, from late Latin crapulentus ‘very drunk,’ from Latin crapula ‘inebriation,’ from Greek kraipale ‘drunken headahce.’
No, I did not make this up. The blog was getting a little too Buddhist. We needed a crapulent* entry today. (Here’s a good site to learn more exotic–but not necessarily crapulent–words.)
*adjective: of or relating to the drinking of alcohol or drunkenness.
Firstly, I must apologize if the Chairman scared anyone. (Sorry, Anonymous.) Thinking about it, nothing’s more vaguely threatening than a cat head on a famous Communist’s body. I’ll stick to the cute cat pictures.
A work project has had me researching various mindfulness/peace-promoting/Buddhist/hippy/Chicken-Soup-
-Thank-You-Anyway websites, including Salt Lake’s own Kanzeon Zen Center. And I apologize if any readers are members of the Kanzeon sangha (see? research!) who might be offended, but 1.) they have a trademarked path to enlightenment and 2.) every step on the path to enlightenment comes with a suggested donation. And while 1.) I understand that the center operates with donations and 2.) I really don’t know enough about Zen Buddhism to argue, it just seems a little, well, grasping.
Which is why we can all turn to Better Living Through Literature and get free quotes from the Buddha, scary cat pictures, and misremembered bits of poems! (A lot are in my head, but there are some I have to find at home in the evenings.) Here’s today’s:
Alone with yourself,
At the edge of the forest,
Office Snack Of The Last Two Days That I Just Finished Eating This Morning: lemon-ginger cookies.
“…subtle as the memory of hyacinths which perfumed the darkness.”
And I found a new favorie blog to read every day. It criticizes celebrities’ outfits, which doesn’t sound very promising, but the writing is wickedly funny. I’ve narrowly avoided choking on my coffee in the mornings, reading it.