JPEZ
1. Triathlon watches, with their displays of heart rates and split times, measure performance. My pedometer merely quantifies kvetch.
2. Life is most aptly measured not as velocity or acceleration, but as rattlebone jounce.
3. Just as unpredicable as another's sexual practices is his/her taste in music.
External manifestations are useless: we can deduce nothing from a marriage or iPod. Rhythm is the deepest layer of secrecy.
HERR KEPLER'S NOTEBOOK
Time is the bully anchor of the opposing tug-rope team.
The person with a happy home life tracks glitter through the world; the solitary person leaves snowprints.
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"The grasshopper warbler's song comes up out of the earth just as you think the day is quietening down. It has no prelude or warm-up: it starts midperformance, as if switched on by the dark, as it if has been singing like this beneath the earth until it was dark enough to come to the surface. As if, though we hardly hear it, this singing never stops."
A Year on the Wing (Tim Dee)
All writing and cartoons on this site copyright 2008-2010 Julia Martin, unless otherwise credited.
The person with a happy home life tracks glitter through the world; the solitary person leaves snowprints.
-------------------------------------
"The grasshopper warbler's song comes up out of the earth just as you think the day is quietening down. It has no prelude or warm-up: it starts midperformance, as if switched on by the dark, as it if has been singing like this beneath the earth until it was dark enough to come to the surface. As if, though we hardly hear it, this singing never stops."
A Year on the Wing (Tim Dee)
All writing and cartoons on this site copyright 2008-2010 Julia Martin, unless otherwise credited.
I love all these.
ReplyDeleteI've been using the car radio to push at the edges of my taste in music. Listening to the classical radio station instead of the oldies. Pausing to hear out a country song instead of hurrying on as soon as I've identified it. It's curiously stressful, but it also feels healthy. Something I should have done a long time ago.
Whenever I hanker for country, I blame hormonal surge! Tis indeed stressful to stretch musical boundaries, almost ego-dystonic. I quiver just imagining the pan flute. V. brave of you to keep your ears open.
ReplyDelete