Home for Thanksgiving, W.S. Merwin

I bring myself back from the streets that open like long
Silent laughs, and the others
Spilled into in the way of rivers break­ing up, lit­tered with words,
Crossed by cats and that sort of thing,
From the know­ing wires and the aimed windows,
Well this is nice, on the third floor, in back of the billboard
Which says Now Improved and I know what they mean,
I thread my way in and I sew myself in like money.

Well this is nice with my shoes moored by the bed
And the lights around the bill­board tick­ing on and off like a beacon,
I have brought myself back like many anoth­er crusty
Unbar­bered ves­sel launched with a bottle,
From the bare regions of pure hope where
For a great part of the year it scarce­ly sets at all,
And from the night skies reg­u­lar­ly filled with old movies of my fingers,
Weight­less as shad­ows, grop­ing in the sluices,
And from the visions of veins like arter­ies, and
From the months of plying
Between can and can, vacant as a pint in the morning,
While my sex grew into the only tree, a joy­less evergreen,
And the winds played hell with it at night, com­ing as they did
Over at least one thou­sand miles of emptiness,
Thump­ing as though there were noth­ing but doors, insisting
“Come out,” and of course I would have frozen.

Con­tin­ue reading…

blue door, obliterate my imaginings

blue door in desert

There is some­thing about this pho­to that asked me to write about it. Yes, it’s the blue wall or door. Of course it is the blueness.

I’m imag­in­ing dri­ving across the the sub­tle hues of dry lands and being star­tled by this rich hue, this utter cool­ness in the midst of dust. It’s a pleas­ant thing after all, the blueness.

Should I stop and oblit­er­ate my imag­in­ings with real­i­ty? No, I’ll dri­ve on and I let the blue remain in my mind just as it was the moment I saw it.

Really yellow case for the iPhone

On Face­book today I read a post from my cuz that said plainly:

just watched stacey’s iPhone get run over by a pick-up truck on the bypass. .…. Phone is fine. How?.…Otter Box. Enough said.

That’s pret­ty mean­ing­ful. So I point­ed my brows­er to www.otterbox.com . Some pret­ty impres­sive prod­ucts if you have the need to pro­tect any of your mobile tech­nol­o­gy devices. I think I would want this crazy yel­low case if I want­ed to cov­er up my iPhone or iPod.

I’m into see­ing the beau­ty of my Apple prod­ucts. This is tempt­ing though.

Walk in John Maeda’s shoes.

John Mae­da lives at the inter­sec­tion of tech­nol­o­gy and art, a place that can get very com­pli­cat­ed. I under­stand that place very well. I’m post­ing this talk because there is so much of it that I relate with.

This talk cre­ates more ques­tions than answers. It is about observ­ing, ques­tion­ing, and exper­i­ment­ing. Cre­at­ing some­thing new that adds to the uni­verse. Some­thing that brings joy. Orga­niz­ing found objects and every­day things to make some­thing total­ly new.

John Mae­da uses imag­i­na­tion to inspire. Walk one day in John Maeda’s shoes. Think, what would John Mae­da do with this? Open your mind to new and cre­ative ways to move for­ward in what­ev­er you do.

BTW, Mr Mae­da is no longer at MIT he is now Pres­i­dent of Rhode Island School of Design. Makes me think about how much fun it could be to be back in school. You can find out more about what he is doing there. http://www.risd.edu/president/