Alas, poor virtue
pariah of the pecuniary world.
Who knew you well?
Only those lost to obscurity,
for the public loves a scandal
not a service.

Two hearts beat in time,
Passionate percussive pagentry,
Melting into the hunger in each other's eyes.
It's no surprise that a sensual symphony
Is playing in the night.
Bodies harmonize in a melody
Coarse and perfect.
Moves the soul to dance in fire-
Ah, desire.

Victorious at last, the sun descends in scarlet epiphany
across the wastes of the once mighty anvil heads

My dreams are thick and heavy, like drowning in syrup- or blood.

I cannot tell them from reality at times because the emotions they evoke have been so life-like, though the sensation of dreaming still has a dizzy detached quality. Sometimes life feels like that, though, if one is sick or tired or otherwise uninterested in living. A perception pathos...

I have to fight to regain awareness. It's exhausting dreaming like this.

I wish I could paint what I dream. The images, though sometimes terrible, are always striking. The colors are vivid. They brand themselves in my mind, but I know not from whence they come.

i hear that tomorrow the high is only 99-

i'd be elated if i had the time.

hard to be elated when i feel so deflated,

but i'll tell everyone that i'm fine

The idea of America as the embodiment of the promise of freedom and democracy — not just of technology and high living standards — is integral to how we think of ourselves, but it is no longer how a lot of others think of us. They are now compartmentalizing. The unilateral war in Iraq, the postwar mess there, the walk-away from Kyoto and other treaties, the Abu Ghraib scandal have taken a toll. The idea of America as embodying the charisma of democracy has been damaged. As the political theorist Yaron Ezrahi put it, "America as the do-gooder has been hurt, but America as the goods-doer is still there."

Fortunately, this situation is not irreparable. The longing for an America that exports hope, not fear, and that is an example of the best global practices and values, runs really deep in the world. In fact, it is one reason that some people abroad are so angry with President Bush — because they blame him for taking that America away from them. I'm convinced a different approach or different administration would elicit a big response from the world. But for now, we will pay a price, because when people want to line up for our visas but not for our policies, it means Americans alone will have to bear the burden and the price of those policies.

That is not good for us. When you lose your status as a power with values, you weaken your ability to fight those powers without values.

Read the rest at http://www.nytimes.com/2004/06/20/opinion/20FRIE.html?th

Do you think caterpillers know that they're going to turn into butterflies? Or do they just wake up one morning and wonder what the hell is going on, sitting in their little cocoons feeling a little frightened and most uncomfortable till they break out and discover that they are altogether changed? I wonder if they prefer being butterflies; maybe given the chance they'd go right back to being little green fuzzy inchworms that crawl around eating all day.

I wish I could ask one.

This is a post about weather dances... go figure.

I want to dance in the rain. I normally spend a decent part of my summers doing just that, and I miss the sensation of raindrops mingling with my laughter as they splatter onto my face. Most people run for shelter, so it seems as though it is raining for your own enjoyment as you splash about, you and the weather a perfect duet. It's like knowing a secret, an inside joke. I hear a song in the summer rainfall, and I answer it as purely as I can. I have been dreaming of rain...I haven't seen a cloud in days. Deserts can be rather oppressive...

There are sun dances too, of course. But I rarely feel the need. The sun here in particular has a slow and steady beat, not one made for dancing. Besides, sun dances are hardly private things, and while I may confess to dancing in the rain, you'll never see me at it.

Everyone has done a snow dance. Actually, no, I take that back. Those of us who lived in the midwest or north or anywhere with a chance for snowdays off from school has done a snow dance. A snow dance, as opposed to other weather dances, occurs not with snow, but in the hope of snow. I've done many a snow dance in my day rather than finish my homework, with varying success. I do know of one person with an infallible snow dance. Sister Mary was a teacher at my first school, a catholic school, as you may have perceived, and her snow dance, though used but rarely, never failed.

Alright, thats enough randomness for now.

I fell
once
and so they seized me.
I hated that sterile white place.

It was so cold.

They were frightened
excited, even.
They saw death in it.

I?
I saw greatness-
Herakliea nosos
and in my darkness sailed beyond them
keeping company with Caesar
and the champion of Greeks,
for with the mighty had I fallen.

They stripped me of my jewels
for in the mouth of a beast I went
A light swayed lazily over my head
back and forth
did it rock?
or did I?
MRI

My body my coracle
in a sea of light I drifted
a whirring noise-
breeze through lilies?-
mapped my mind.
Nothing wrong with me

I mouthed the word

epilepsy