At first, I wasn't entirely sure what this meant.
Then I realized...
Showing posts with label Videos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Videos. Show all posts
The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway by Ernest Hemingway #3
"We smoked skilfully in the dark."
At first, I wasn't entirely sure what this meant.
Then I realized...
At first, I wasn't entirely sure what this meant.
Then I realized...
For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway #2
"He looked at her and across the meadow where a hawk was hunting and the big afternoon clouds were coming now over the mountains."
I wish I knew how to paint. Or draw.
I want to be there. I want those clouds. I want that bird.
Ka-Kaw!
I need to get out of the city. I'm having nature withdraws. No grass, no trees, clean air. No expansive views over Rockville.
No looking at little black dots waiting for them to move so they can reveal their "cowness."
I like nature. Even though it's hard to really be "one with nature."
Actually, what I miss is the waterfall near Santa Barbara, Honduras. OK, so it's not really a waterfall.
There is a big river along side the road and there is a stream that feeds into the river. On that small stream is a small waterfall that fills up a small lagoon type thing. It's a swimming hole.
Across the small waterfall is a bridge with a road on top. From said bridge you can jump into the water. Where this mini-fall splashes it's deep enough so you don't die.
The drop is enough that you have a split second of regret while falling.
That's where I want to go. Out of Beijing into Honduran water.
Back to the bird though...
I wish I knew how to paint. Or draw.
I want to be there. I want those clouds. I want that bird.
Ka-Kaw!
I need to get out of the city. I'm having nature withdraws. No grass, no trees, clean air. No expansive views over Rockville.
No looking at little black dots waiting for them to move so they can reveal their "cowness."
I like nature. Even though it's hard to really be "one with nature."
Actually, what I miss is the waterfall near Santa Barbara, Honduras. OK, so it's not really a waterfall.
There is a big river along side the road and there is a stream that feeds into the river. On that small stream is a small waterfall that fills up a small lagoon type thing. It's a swimming hole.
Across the small waterfall is a bridge with a road on top. From said bridge you can jump into the water. Where this mini-fall splashes it's deep enough so you don't die.
The drop is enough that you have a split second of regret while falling.
That's where I want to go. Out of Beijing into Honduran water.
Back to the bird though...
The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway #3
"The bull-fighter fellow was rather good. He didn't say much, but he kept getting up and getting knocked down again. Cohn couldn't knock him out. It must have been damned funny."
Child of God by Cormac McCarthy
"Ballard’s hair hung from his thin skull in lank wet strings and gray water dripped from his hair and from the end of his nose."
Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman! by Richard P. Feynman #1
"People often think I’m a faker, but I’m usually honest, in a certain way–in such a way that often nobody believes me!"
People used to do funny stuff and people wanted to know who to blame. They would suspect me. I knew they would suspect me. I would smile because I knew I was going to be blamed. People would see me smile and blame me because I was smiling.
It was a vicious circle of blame and amusement.
People used to do funny stuff and people wanted to know who to blame. They would suspect me. I knew they would suspect me. I would smile because I knew I was going to be blamed. People would see me smile and blame me because I was smiling.
It was a vicious circle of blame and amusement.
A Cook's Tour: In Search of the Perfect Meal #1
"the engines droning on and on without variation, making me yearn for turbulence – anything to break the boredom, the gnawing, terrible sense that I’m in some gruesome state of suspended animation."
I love turbulence on long flights. I'm desperate for it. I need it.
Car rides have bumps, jolts and vibrations that let you know you're moving forward, that your accomplishing something. Or you can look out the windows and see things zooming past. Even at night you can see the lights zipping past or glows in the distance that let you know you're going.
On a plane with no turbulence at night. It's terrible. There is nothing to let you know you're moving forward except the terrible map on the headrest. Other than that, you're trapped and alone with puffy feet.
I love turbulence on long flights. I'm desperate for it. I need it.
Car rides have bumps, jolts and vibrations that let you know you're moving forward, that your accomplishing something. Or you can look out the windows and see things zooming past. Even at night you can see the lights zipping past or glows in the distance that let you know you're going.
On a plane with no turbulence at night. It's terrible. There is nothing to let you know you're moving forward except the terrible map on the headrest. Other than that, you're trapped and alone with puffy feet.
Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain #3
"Vegetarians are the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit, an affront to all I stand for, the pure enjoyment of food."
Phases of Gravity by Dan Simmons #3
"“Being born again doesn’t mean that you’ve arrived somewhere,” said Dave. “It means you’re ready to start the trip. The pilgrimage to more places of power, the doomed quest to keep the people and things you love from being caught by the weeds and dragged under."
Maybe I wasn't so broken.
I wonder if panicking about what's going to happen to their non-religious family members is the biggest kept secret pain in any religion. What if you're floating up to paradise and you have to watch them standing on Earth wondering why you're levitating. So your stuck in heavenly-zero-g and your mom, dad or kids are hopping up and down trying to catch your ankle so they can ride you to paradise. You're salty tears plopping down on their hell bound faces and you're regretting never asking them to come to church with you.
Whenever I make a small improvement in my life I think everyone should do the exact same thing. I wonder how irritating I'm going to be in the future. I make a list about something, you should too! I'm on www.goodreads.com you should be too!
Whenever I have kids I'll have to train them before they know any better and make them think it was all their idea in the first place.
Maybe I wasn't so broken.
I wonder if panicking about what's going to happen to their non-religious family members is the biggest kept secret pain in any religion. What if you're floating up to paradise and you have to watch them standing on Earth wondering why you're levitating. So your stuck in heavenly-zero-g and your mom, dad or kids are hopping up and down trying to catch your ankle so they can ride you to paradise. You're salty tears plopping down on their hell bound faces and you're regretting never asking them to come to church with you.
Whenever I make a small improvement in my life I think everyone should do the exact same thing. I wonder how irritating I'm going to be in the future. I make a list about something, you should too! I'm on www.goodreads.com you should be too!
Whenever I have kids I'll have to train them before they know any better and make them think it was all their idea in the first place.
Reality is Broken by Jane McGonigal #3
"Fiero is what we feel after we triumph over adversity. You know it when you feel it—and when you see it. That’s because we almost all express fiero in exactly the same way: we throw our arms over our head and yell. The fact that virtually all humans physically express fiero in the same way is a sure sign that it’s related to some of our most primal emotions."
The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri #2
"As children, ashamed, dumb, with eyes upon the ground, stand listening and conscience-stricken and repentant, so was I standing."
Oh dear. Been there. Couldn't wait for it to end.
The Divine Comedy was written somewhere around 1308 and 1321. Apparently things have never, ever changed.
There is a line in the movie The History Boys that applies.
Seneca did the exact same thing with a passage from one of his letters.
If you want to study, quiet is not nearly as necessary as you might think. Here I am, surrounded by all kinds of noise (my lodgings overlook a bath-house). Conjure up in your imagination all the sounds that make one hate one's ears. I hear the grunts of musclemen exercising and jerking those heavy weights around; they are working hard, or pretending to. I hear their sharp hissing when they release their pent breath. If there happens to be a lazy fellow content with a simple massage I hear the slap of hand on shoulder; you can tell whether it's hitting a flat or a hollow. If a ball-player comes up and starts calling out his score, I'm done for. Add to this the racket of a cocky bastard, a thief caught in the act, and a fellow who likes the sound of his own voice in the bath, plus those who plunge into the pool with a huge splash of water. Besides those who just have loud voices, imagine the skinny armpit-hair plucker whose cries are shrill so as to draw people's attention and never stop except when he's doing his job and making someone else shriek for him. Now add the mingled cries of the drink peddler and the sellers of sausages, pastries, and hot fare, each hawking his own wares with his own particular peal."
One thing just caught my attention for the first time, "the skinny arm-pit hair plucker."
As Spock would say, "Fascinating."
Oh dear. Been there. Couldn't wait for it to end.
The Divine Comedy was written somewhere around 1308 and 1321. Apparently things have never, ever changed.
There is a line in the movie The History Boys that applies.
Seneca did the exact same thing with a passage from one of his letters.
"My dear Lucilius,
If you want to study, quiet is not nearly as necessary as you might think. Here I am, surrounded by all kinds of noise (my lodgings overlook a bath-house). Conjure up in your imagination all the sounds that make one hate one's ears. I hear the grunts of musclemen exercising and jerking those heavy weights around; they are working hard, or pretending to. I hear their sharp hissing when they release their pent breath. If there happens to be a lazy fellow content with a simple massage I hear the slap of hand on shoulder; you can tell whether it's hitting a flat or a hollow. If a ball-player comes up and starts calling out his score, I'm done for. Add to this the racket of a cocky bastard, a thief caught in the act, and a fellow who likes the sound of his own voice in the bath, plus those who plunge into the pool with a huge splash of water. Besides those who just have loud voices, imagine the skinny armpit-hair plucker whose cries are shrill so as to draw people's attention and never stop except when he's doing his job and making someone else shriek for him. Now add the mingled cries of the drink peddler and the sellers of sausages, pastries, and hot fare, each hawking his own wares with his own particular peal."
One thing just caught my attention for the first time, "the skinny arm-pit hair plucker."
As Spock would say, "Fascinating."