I get my cocoa (or wine) and plant myself in front of the television and watch this movie over and over again.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Not From Me
Every year I sit on my front pouch, watch the leaves turn and begin reading.
And every year around Halloween I read "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow".
"I was always fond of visiting new scenes, and observing strange characters and manners. Even when a mere child I began my travels, and made many tours of discovery into foreign parts and unknown regions of my native city, to the frequent alarm of my parents, and the emolument of the town crier. As I grew into boyhood, I extended the range of my observations. My holiday afternoons were spent in rambles about the surrounding country. I made myself familiar with all its places famous in history or fable. I knew every spot where a murder or robbery had been committed, or a ghost seen. I visited the neighboring villages, and added greatly to my stock of knowledge, by noting their habits and customs, and conversing with there sages and great men. I even journeyed one long summer's day to the summit of the most distant hill, whence I stretched my eye over many a mile of terra incognita, and was astonished to find how vast a globe I inhabited.
This rambling propensity strengthened with my years. Books of voyages and travels became my passion, and in devouring their contents, I neglected the regular exercises of the school. How wistfully would I wander about the pier-heads in fine weather, and watch the parting ships, bound to distant climes; with what longing eyes would I gaze after their lessening sails, and waft myself in imagination to the ends of the earth! Further reading and thinking, though they brought this vague inclination into more reasonable bounds, only served to make it more decided, I visited various parts of my own country; and had I been merely a lover of fine scenery, I should have felt little desire to seek else here its gratification, for on no country had the charms of nature been more prodigally lavished. Her mighty lakes, her oceans of liquid silver; her mountains, with their bright aerial tints; her valleys, teeming with wild fertility; her tremendous cataracts, thundering in their solitude; her boundless plains, waving with spontaneous verdure; her broad deep rivers, rolling in solemn silence to the ocean; her trackless forest, where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence; her skies, kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine; no, never need an American go beyond his own country for the sublime and beautiful of natural scenery.
But Europe held forth all the charms of storied and poetical association. There were to be seen the masterpieces of art, the refinements of highly cultivated society, the quaint peculiarities of ancient and local custom. My native country was full of youthful promise; Europe was rich in the accumulated treasures of age. Her very ruins told the history of the times gone by, and every mouldering stone was a chronicle. I longed to wander over the scenes of renowned achievement-to tread, as it were, in the footsteps of antiquity - to loiter about the ruined castle - to mediate on the falling tower - to escape, in short, from the commonplace realities of the present, and lose myself among the shadowy grandeur's of the past".
Washington Irving
And every year around Halloween I read "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow".
"I was always fond of visiting new scenes, and observing strange characters and manners. Even when a mere child I began my travels, and made many tours of discovery into foreign parts and unknown regions of my native city, to the frequent alarm of my parents, and the emolument of the town crier. As I grew into boyhood, I extended the range of my observations. My holiday afternoons were spent in rambles about the surrounding country. I made myself familiar with all its places famous in history or fable. I knew every spot where a murder or robbery had been committed, or a ghost seen. I visited the neighboring villages, and added greatly to my stock of knowledge, by noting their habits and customs, and conversing with there sages and great men. I even journeyed one long summer's day to the summit of the most distant hill, whence I stretched my eye over many a mile of terra incognita, and was astonished to find how vast a globe I inhabited.
This rambling propensity strengthened with my years. Books of voyages and travels became my passion, and in devouring their contents, I neglected the regular exercises of the school. How wistfully would I wander about the pier-heads in fine weather, and watch the parting ships, bound to distant climes; with what longing eyes would I gaze after their lessening sails, and waft myself in imagination to the ends of the earth! Further reading and thinking, though they brought this vague inclination into more reasonable bounds, only served to make it more decided, I visited various parts of my own country; and had I been merely a lover of fine scenery, I should have felt little desire to seek else here its gratification, for on no country had the charms of nature been more prodigally lavished. Her mighty lakes, her oceans of liquid silver; her mountains, with their bright aerial tints; her valleys, teeming with wild fertility; her tremendous cataracts, thundering in their solitude; her boundless plains, waving with spontaneous verdure; her broad deep rivers, rolling in solemn silence to the ocean; her trackless forest, where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence; her skies, kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine; no, never need an American go beyond his own country for the sublime and beautiful of natural scenery.
But Europe held forth all the charms of storied and poetical association. There were to be seen the masterpieces of art, the refinements of highly cultivated society, the quaint peculiarities of ancient and local custom. My native country was full of youthful promise; Europe was rich in the accumulated treasures of age. Her very ruins told the history of the times gone by, and every mouldering stone was a chronicle. I longed to wander over the scenes of renowned achievement-to tread, as it were, in the footsteps of antiquity - to loiter about the ruined castle - to mediate on the falling tower - to escape, in short, from the commonplace realities of the present, and lose myself among the shadowy grandeur's of the past".
Washington Irving
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Niyaz
As I sit here drinking my first cup of coffee. My mind wanders to
lands I have yet to travel and the beauty of people around the world.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Favorite Artists
Instead of writing about certain events in my life. I thought it would be nice to post some of my favorite artists. Let thier creativity and imagination take you into the vortex of their world.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Old Ways
Summer is passing.
As I look out my window I see the leaves starting to turn. It is my favorite time of the year knocking the flip flop wearing, “Don’t you wish there more sunny days in Seattle?” people away. You live in the Pacific Northwest. You deal with rain and if you don’t appreciate it then please, disappear.
I do more writing during the autumn months. Autumn always becomes a personal awakening for me. It always has been and it always will. It also marks an exciting time where I work. Classes and programs begin. The three months of quiet during the summer vanish and when December arrives, we are knee deep in the middle of our busy season.
Maybe I enjoy autumn so much because it fills me with a comfort that I don’t feel during any time of the year. That though many happy memories happen throughout the seasons, autumn is my summer time. It is a time when I venture out of the house more and become more sociable. Maybe it is because since I turned 40 in July, there is a sense of greater comfort being in my own skin. That I love my life. That my friends are always close, no matter how far apart some of us might be from one another.
And as the smell of bonfires fill the senses and the flames dance higher into the crisp air. Remember. “There are times of sadness and where no comfort is known. But gaze upon the autumn sun. Where the touch is gentle and where the warmth will fill you with an intoxicating elixir".
As I look out my window I see the leaves starting to turn. It is my favorite time of the year knocking the flip flop wearing, “Don’t you wish there more sunny days in Seattle?” people away. You live in the Pacific Northwest. You deal with rain and if you don’t appreciate it then please, disappear.
I do more writing during the autumn months. Autumn always becomes a personal awakening for me. It always has been and it always will. It also marks an exciting time where I work. Classes and programs begin. The three months of quiet during the summer vanish and when December arrives, we are knee deep in the middle of our busy season.
Maybe I enjoy autumn so much because it fills me with a comfort that I don’t feel during any time of the year. That though many happy memories happen throughout the seasons, autumn is my summer time. It is a time when I venture out of the house more and become more sociable. Maybe it is because since I turned 40 in July, there is a sense of greater comfort being in my own skin. That I love my life. That my friends are always close, no matter how far apart some of us might be from one another.
And as the smell of bonfires fill the senses and the flames dance higher into the crisp air. Remember. “There are times of sadness and where no comfort is known. But gaze upon the autumn sun. Where the touch is gentle and where the warmth will fill you with an intoxicating elixir".
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