I once made little worlds with moss The soft green cushions Were the lush green grass Of the hills The little trees standing so tall and proud (They do not know they are not tall at all) Pushed the moss cushions into a biscuit tin lid Arranged some pretty stones (Well not pretty – just …
I follow the thought-provoking blog A Narcissist Writes Letters, To Himself so it was wonderfully exciting last week to find a yellow padded package (with an exotic San Francisco return address) stuffed into my humble post box here in the UK. The Narcissist (E.I. Wong Himself) had kindly sent me a copy of his book*. I sat down at my quintessentially English breakfast …
Lemmy. David Bowie. Alan Rickman. Sharing an appropriate salute to the past fortnight. Pic taken from the Twitter feed of @CardinalPhink. I’ll leave you with Alan Rickman’s words. “A film, a piece of theatre, a piece of music or a book can make a difference. It can change the world.” Ain’t that the truth.
Following yesterday’s unfestive rant, here’s some genius from The Oatmeal. Keep smiling 🙂 For more stuff like this I highly recommend The Oatmeal Blog
See this article? Android Dreams Images created by computer algorithms. Eerily beautiful. Haunting landscapes. Arty, aren’t they? You can watch a short neural network in action (or close enough) at Google’s blog, and see how a computer brain happily turns clouds into magical sky cities. “… I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. …
Why do we become who we become? I puzzle over this a lot. Fixated that I could’ve been better, done better, achieved more, ‘if only’, ‘if only’, ‘if only…’ Who were you supposed to be? Apparently, who we become isn’t just a matter of nature or nurture. For instance, murderers and psychopaths are both born …
Three young artists diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis were given a brief — to create something good out of something bad. The one above I thought was beautiful and thought-provoking. The birds look longingly into the sky; maybe they feel grounded? Are they thinking they will never fly again? Do they miss their wings? Whatever has happened to their bodies, they are …
the crone 