Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Buddhist Thought of the Day

A man who is seeking for realization is not only going round searching for his spectacles without realizing that they are on his nose all the time, but also were he not actually looking through them he would not be able to see what he is looking for!
- from Ask the Awakened by Wei Wu Wei

--

Finals are o-ver, fi-i-nals are o-ver! Hip hip hurrah!

Monday, March 19, 2007

Machine
by Josh Groban

Rising above tension below
Learn from the in-between
Blinded by trust, asleep to the truth
Awakened by disbelief
Somewhere I found strength in my soul
Still you refuse to see

Are you sure I'm not all right?
'Cause lately I've been feeling fine!
Every lifeline leads its own way to the heavens
But I have seen you run in circles, unforgiven
Is there anything in this world that can make you stop?!
Oh, you're a machine!

A world of your own
Hollow inside
Careful when worlds collide
I'm filling my life
With all it can hold
Carry it on with pride

Are you sure I'm not all right?
Cause lately I've been feeling fine!
Every lifeline leads its own way to the heavens
But I have seen you run in circles, unforgiven
Is there anything in this world that can make you stop?!
Oh, you're a machine!

The sun's still above
All the rain that's coming down
And I can feel the clouds drifting away
And now the sky is open wide!
Turn the light on, you will see things
So much clearer
Ohh, but there's no heart
Oh, there's no heart, and I've spent all this time feeling
Something you can't feel at all!
You're a machine!
Oh, you're a machine.


I'm so looking forward to when the new single comes out; everyone will be unbearably jealous of my licence plates! (Well, maybe not everyone...)

Friday, March 16, 2007

California
by Sarah Slean

I went to California
I met a lovely man
He rubs a wedding finger
Without a wedding band

He knows better anyhow
His kisses are just all in his eyes
I know better
I know better still I wish I was
By your side

The taxi open window
The summer on the wind
I'd ask about a lover
But how would I begin?

He knows better anyhow
His kisses are just all in his eyes
I know better
I know better, still I wish I was
By your side


I love the Toronto music scene. :)

I hope we are always ridiculous with hope.
- Sarah Slean

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Men are all the same, they just have different faces so you can tell them apart.
- Anonymous

Friday, March 09, 2007

She nodded, and we sat a while in silence. How odd that we should have been friends, in a manner of speaking, all our lives, yet never once felt kindly disposed until this moment. There we sat, among the doilies and the teacups, two fat old women, no longer haggling with one another, but only with fate, pitting our wits against God's.
--from The Stone Angel by Margaret Laurence

Monday, March 05, 2007

The Fish

I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn't fight.
He hadn't fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled and barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
--the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly--
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
--It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
--if you could call it a lip
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels--until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.


--Elizabeth Bishop

Thanks, Lucia! :D

Thursday, March 01, 2007

America cannot credibly preach nuclear temperance from a barstool.
- U.S. Rep. Ed Markey (MA)

Check out Still in the Shadow of Nuclear Weapons, a pamphlet published by the Friends Committee on National Legislation (FCNL).