i tramp a perpetual journey -- 

-- not i, not any one else can travel that road for you,

you must travel it for yourself.

it is not far, it is within reach ~ walt whitman

/ / xx

and just another music monday {listen here}



He was alone. He was unheeded, happy and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and willful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the sea-harvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight and gayclad lightclad figures of children and girls and voices childish and girlish in the air.


A girl stood before him in midstream, alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful seabird. Her long slender bare legs were delicate as a crane's and pure save where an emerald trail of seaweed had fashioned itself as a sign upon the flesh. Her thighs, fuller and soft-hued as ivory, were bared almost to the hips, where the white fringes of her drawers were like feathering of soft white down. Her slate-blue skirts were kilted boldly about her waist and dovetailed behind her. Her bosom was as a bird's, soft and slight, slight and soft as the breast of some dark-plumaged dove. But her long fair hair was girlish: and girlish, and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face.

She was alone and still, gazing out to sea; and when she felt his presence and the worship of his eyes her eyes turned to him in quiet sufferance of his gaze, without shame or wantonness. Long, long she suffered his gaze and then quietly withdrew her eyes from his and bent them towards the stream, gently stirring the water with her foot hither and thither. The first faint noise of gently moving water broke the silence, low and faint and whispering, faint as the bells of sleep; hither and thither, hither and thither; and a faint flame trembled on her cheek.

-- Heavenly God! cried Stephen's soul, in an outburst of profane joy.

He turned away from her suddenly and set off across the strand. His cheeks were aflame; his body was aglow; his limbs were trembling. On and on and on and on he strode, far out over the sands, singing wildly to the sea, crying to greet the advent of the life that had cried to him.

~ james joyce



isn't she lovely ?

even after all these years -- she is still the loveliest lady i know.

happy birthday mom. i love you so.

/ / xx

Beauty is truth's smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror ~ Tagore



Did you ever, in that wonderland wilderness of adolesence ever, quite unexpectedly, see something, a dusk sky, a wild bird, a landscape, so exquisite terror touched you at the bone? And you are afraid, terribly afraid the smallest movement, a leaf, say, turning in the wind, will shatter all? That is, I think, the way love is, or should be: one lives in beautiful terror. ~ truman capote

/ / xx

1. { Humming Bird Perched Near Passion Flowers } Martin Johnson Heade circa 1870 ~ 1883



i woke up today feeling totally uninspired and then i saw this. august has been a 'slow' drip so far. my gray roots have started to show and i'm trying to embrace the new look; at least until fall. i finally broke the caffeine habit so i've taken to sipping mint tea in the afternoon and spying on our cardinal friend as he sits idly on his perch in our backyard. i've acquired an eyelash begonia, a fishnet coleus, and a flame violet from the local nursery in an attempt to round out the makeshift garden on my fire escape. i sewed a hole in my favorite dress and i swear i will wear it til it disintegrates.

i've been thinking about last summer when i was making new friends, eating a lot of pie, drinking a lot of iced lattes and learning the art of floristry. the summer that i learned how to make a love knot stitch. the summer i lost a dear friend. the days pass so quickly and time moves swiftly, so at the moment i remain grateful for the 'slow' going.

/ / xx

for eric {sherm} -- may 30 1989 ~ august 8 2010

Be near me when my light is low,
When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick
And tingle; and the heart is sick,
And all the wheels of Being slow.

Be near me when the sensuous frame
Is rack'd with pangs that conquer trust;
And Time, a maniac scattering dust,
And Life, a fury slinging flame.

Be near me when my faith is dry,
And men the flies of latter spring,
That lay their eggs, and sting and sing
And weave their petty cells and die.

Be near me when I fade away,
To point the term of human strife,
And on the low dark verge of life
The twilight of eternal day.

~ Tennyson

photos: sally mann



swallowed by phragmites and intoxicated by lush sea lavender. the two days i spent in this charming island community were a little slice of heaven.

the week away was delightful but i did miss my boy.

The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea. ~ anne morrow lindbergh



day 2 -- so far all i've managed is to get banged out for a parking ticket, come down with a head cold and lose my entire itunes library. 

now that's what i call progress.

/ / xx

{ listening  to  this  songbird  and  practicing  my  dance  moves }