William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
When You Are Old
WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face among a crowd of stars.
31 August, 2007
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
30 August, 2007
well, loosely translated it's the summer hit. in italy....
time to 'fess up to my own guilty pleasure of the past few months.
yes there was elliot smith
yes there was emily haines
yes there was plenty of very depressing and deep and meaningful and tragic etc. etc.
there was also...err...this...
nothing to see...
moving right along...
29 August, 2007
24 August, 2007
23 August, 2007
21 August, 2007
well, i will finally be making my much-talked about jaunt to that GREAT NATION TO THE NORTH. known by those in the know... as cana-duh, courtesy of air miles and the kindness of friends.
never before has there been so much forward planning, probably because i am not the one doing the organizing, just following directions.
i will be testing my snowboard skillzzzz on the world's most demanding and possibly, best, ski slopes. god help us all.
20 August, 2007
these tears i've cried
i've cried 1000 oceans
and if it seems i'm floating
in the darkness
well i can't believe that i would keep
keep you from flying
and i would cry 1000 more if that's
what it takes to sail you home
sail you home sail you home
i'm aware what the rules are
but you know that i will run
you know that i will follow you
over silbury hill through the solar field
you know that i wil follow you
YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE
19 August, 2007
18 August, 2007
17 August, 2007
16 August, 2007
i remember seeing this when it first came out. shit...it's been more than ten years. maybe i'm getting to that age where i say....goddam, well they just don't make them like they used to. but they don't do they?
14 August, 2007
To never open a book, always reading a magazine
Outspend, betting if it looks like winning, you haven't been
Knives don't have your back, I wait and I count
The knives don't have your back
I wait and I count to the last breath we take
What we made doesn't make sense
What's a wolf without a pack?
Open your chest and take the heart from it
Open your chest
What's bad, we'll fix it
What's wrong, we'll make it all right
All right, it's gone, we'll find it
Takes so long, we've got time
All the time
oats just found me
emily haines's new album
on a very random web site
and ordered it
and i am
after a quick catch-up with naps (fab jap..) and discussing life's ups and downs, mothers and fathers, and brothers (her case) and unfortunate hook-ups (my case)...she mentions a film she watched. my eyes light up. i sense it could be a cracker. a real cracker. the cracker, the likes of which haven't been seen in a while. i sense tears. i sense pain. i sense greatness. i will see it tomorrow. but here is a sneak preview...
The year is 1945. The Second World War is ravaging countries across the world. With each passing moment, countless lives are lost. Advancing U.S. forces turn the tide of battle against Japan. Japan's defense perimeter is undermined as their operational center is taken over. In March, 1945, American B-29 bomber planes begin blanketing the concentrated civilian population of major Japanese cities with incendiary bombs... (Described by a survivor, the bombs fell, "like rain," from the sky. They were the most destructive air attacks, in the history of the world, prior to the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.)
Perhaps one of the most mature and sobering films ever created, "Grave of the Fireflies" is written and directed by renowned filmmaker, Takahata Isao. The story is based on the award-winning semi-autobiography, "Hotaru no Haka," by Nosaka Akiyuki. In the port town of Kobe, a boy and his little sister, put in a helpless situation by forces beyond their control, have to survive in a selfish world. They are forced to grow up overnight while desperately clinging to their innocence.
13 August, 2007
after the devastating news that lady v was going to be responsible for possibly the only time in her life, and diss us in favor of something as trivial as editing a booker-prize winning novel, both alberto and i went into a mild sulk and decided that we were going to eschew all three activities that usually accompany the unholy triumverate in a tuscan setting (i.e. sex, drugs and rock'n'roll) (ok fine i lie about the sex bit).
...and instead have a very civilized and small gathering of a few, close friends, sip port, perhaps indulge in a spot of baddington with some light 80s pop as a backdrop. there were going to be lots of very important discussions over lots of very important matters, we agreed.
sadly, he meant world peace. i meant britney spear's comeback.
alas, like all best intentions, it all went tits up....
so here is a little photo montage of maremma 2007..
(photos were stolen from jon's photo album, which he carelessly tossed my way for the purposes of plagiarism...)
no one bothered telling tot A that brokeback was soooooooo 2005..regardless he still kept trying to make "fetch" happen..
i think they were talking penis size...but i couldn't possibly comment. ask spence.
what was his name? who even remembers. after a quick dip in the sea on tits-out friday pam and i decided to hop on a red sail boat. i'd like to say in my defense that pam was the initiator in all this. she saw wine. she smelt sliffs and she thought to herself "i want me some of that." we gracefully splutter our way over. an hour or so later, pissed and high, we gracefully crawl our way back to shore. i had lavishly extended an invitation to the three strapping sailors to come to our "small gathering." that they did...
all in all i would say another tuscan triumph. lots i left out, naturally. but i am a great believer in restraint. you have to leave something for the imagination, no?
all in all good, clean, honest fun. or as brown put it:
"well at least you are well on your way back to becoming a virgin, revirgination for flavia..."