Poet and Writer
For the Lord of the Caves
Looking for you light,
I went out:
it was like the sudden dawn
of a million suns,
a ganglion of lighnings
for my wonder.
O lord of caves
if you are light,
there can be no metaphor.
Allama Prabhu
Translation from Kannada by A.K. Ramanujan
5. Phil Collins + Gorilla. Could it get any better than this?
4. I spoke too soon: Cookie Monster + Tom Waits. Now, this is fantastic.
3. For my exo-Toronto friends. KPMG is a huge multinational auditing/consulting/kitchen sink company, our new mayor hired to suggest ways to trim our budget. And surprise surprise, one of their suggestions was privatize some city services. And why not? Why should our tax dollars pay for unionized city workers when they could go towards unionized private workers! We’d save millions of cents! Anyhoo, in the following video, Councillor Vaughan asks about Melbourne, Australia, a city that also privatized some of its services. Listen for the dramatic punchline…
2. I mentioned this idea on Facebook a few weeks back. Take heed, vegerians, for the next time you invite over a meat-eater!
1. This is a beautiful clip from the movie Brief Interviews With Hideous Men, inspired by John Foster Wallace’s book of the same name. In the clip a man talks about his father working as a washroom attendant in a ritzy hotel. It really gets under your skin.
In a Corner of the Sky
The old
star
shuts her bleary eyes.
The new
star
wants to paint the night
blue.
(In the fir trees on the mountain:
fireflies)
Federico Garcia Lorca 1899-1936
Route
Her voice roosts in my memory.
My body rocks my thoughts to sleep.
The telegraph wires vanish in the distance.
Pebbles collide, sound the stroke of noon.
Life-Saving Medal
My nose cuts the air,
my eyes are red from laughing.
At night, I gather milk and moonlight
and run without turning back.
If the trees behind me get frightened,
I don’t give a damn.
It is great to be indifferent
in the middle of the night
where all these people go,
the pride of the cities,
the village musicians.
The crowd is dancing, furiously,
and I am just this anonymous passer-by
or somebody whose name I can’t remember.
Phillipe Soupault (1897-1990)