today

The windy, greyness of the day suits me. I can still feel everything, it's all still present, but there's a distance to it that feels mutual. Very few people are out on foot, adding to the feeling of a private coccoon of the world, which again, suits me today.

Sitting in my usual spot, I could hear the wind walking towards me, hear it rushing in the treetops, and feel the sun do it's best to push its way through the cloudy gloom, but it all feels a bit forlorn, comiserable. Walking back, I notice that someone cut off all the stalks of jonquils along a curve in the path, leaving them lying on the grey asphalt. I found myself apologizing for the thoughtless actions as I picked them up and carefully placed them by the remaining root stalks, almost moved to the point of tears at the meaninglessness of it.

Walking out in the open, I could feel the wind, but not in the usual points along my spine; instead, I felt it at the crest of my forehead, a pulling/expanding sort of feeling. I couldn't help wondering if I'd eventually work my way all the way up and down my spine. Sitting here now, typing this, I feel the expanding/floating feeling at the top of my head in a different, but not unknown way. I never know what it means, but always feel like it means something, only I don't know what to do with the invitation or opportunity.

more blog love and envy

...it’s hard for me not to look around at the shift in aesthetics in the past few years, from the sunnier pop music and the grim, dowdy rock scene of the 90s to the over-the-top decadent aesthetic, the grimy, sexy, sleazy hipster trend accompanied by very danceable post-punk and not be reminded of–of all things–the movie/play “Caberet” and the scene where you realize that the sleazy, vaguely monsterous aesthetic of the caberet was contrasted with the bright picnic scene, the well-scrubbed Aryan festivities that have an underlying sickness that’s exposed when everyone gets up to sing the song praising the Fatherland. And you realize that what’s truly monsterous is that which looks least like it.

Amanda Marcotte, much revered blogger at Pandagon

Really, you should all be reading there every day. Tell your friends, too.