Sleepy.

Yesterday's post was pretty heavy. This is what I've been listening to tonight.




(Photo by me, sounds by Ray Charles, Miles Davis, Sam Cooke, and the like)

"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe. "

This is a really excellent set of guidelines on writing technically.

I think it really highlights the importance of writing for an audience rather than yourself.  I mean, you (presumably) already understand what you're describing. Share the love.  Consider the reader's interests more than your own.

Carl Sagan says, "It's not all about you."

By the way, have you all seen this?  The Carl Sagan one is also excellent.

Words for words' sake.

I thought of this today. It applies to nothing...

Your body,
soft hum of the mind
within it
wander in and out of
mine.

...but it could, I suppose. I've always wondered about that sort of thing when analyzing literature.  Scholars have amassed endless amounts of subtle interpretations of great works.  If they hadn't, English majors would probably be out of luck. But I find myself staring at pages, wondering if this or that long-gone novelist wrote for the potential meaning, for the sake of their words, or for a specific message.  I'm okay with not knowing.


I have an Organic exam tomorrow, so goodnight.
I leave you with Ray.  I couldn't find a video to post, but you should check out his cover of 'Eleanor Rigby.' I don't think you'll regret it.

Autumn to winter.

This is from last winter. It's getting colder here.

"Today smelled like day-old chai tea, like a stale sweetness nearly forgotten. The rings of tea stain encircled the white rim of the cup more carefully than you would expect, each one marking a sip taken to warm a particularly good thought as it had warmed your throat, your chest.

But the day felt crisp and cold, and the sloshy footprints on the ground were made by pleasantly treading feet. The snow stung your face, but it also left it rosy and aware. All I needed to do was smile and you smiled with me. What reason was there not to?

Those smiles remain in my mind, nestled carefully amongst images of endless white stretches and gloved fingers. But most of all, the comforting smell of spices and tea."

Autumn is my favorite season, but I love winter as well.

"Even artichokes have hearts!"