Friday, June 29, 2012

Friday Scramble

I am as ever a complete sucker for things like this.

My geek heart doth beat faster.

A useful list.

The people in your neighborhood.

The places in your neighborhood.

Wasting time at work was never so funny.

Founding Fathers are so much more than pasteboard icons.

Friday Jukebox, It's three years now this week.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Monday's Verse, "The Writer" by Richard Wilbur

In her room at the prow of the house
Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden,
My daughter is writing a story.

I pause in the stairwell, hearing
From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys
Like a chain hauled over a gunwale.

Young as she is, the stuff
Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy:
I wish her a lucky passage.

But now it is she who pauses,
As if to reject my though and its easy figure.
A stillness greatens, in which

The whole house seems to be thinking,
And then she is at it again with a bunched clamor
Of strokes, and again is silent.

I remember the dazed starling
Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago;
How we stole in, lifted a sash

And retreated, not to affright it;
And how for a helpless hour, through the crack of the door,
We watched the sleek, wild, dark

And iridescent creature
Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove
To the hard floor, or the desk-top,

And wait then, humped and bloody,
For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits
Rose when, suddenly sure,

It lifted off from a chair-back,
Beating a smooth course for the right window
And clearing the sill of the world.

It is always a matter, my darling,
Of life or death, as I had forgotten. I wish
What I wished you before, but harder.

Eleanor Roosevelt Quote

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face."

Friday, June 22, 2012

Friday Scramble

Lady Liberty being born.

Because there is no such thing as too many Ray Bradbury links.

Some smart thoughts on the passing of Andrew Sarris.

Alyssa Rosenberg takes aim at Brave.

Buzzfeed knows my weakness.

Friday Jukebox, For the 80s club kid in all of us,

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Happy Solstice

The Summer Fairy Variation from Cinderella.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Doris Day Quote

"If it’s true that men are such beasts, this must account for the fact that most women are animal lovers."

A Boring Photo For Tuesday

(click to enlarge) 

Monday, June 18, 2012

Monday's Verse, "Go Tell It" by Emily Dickinson

"Got tell It" -What a Message-
To whom-is specified-
Not murmur-not endearment-
But simply-we-obeyed-
Obeyed-a Lure-a Longing?
Oh Nature-none of this-
To Law-said sweet Thermopylae
I give my dying Kiss-

Friday, June 15, 2012

Friday Scramble

The secret history of libraries.

Oh I will be coming back to these.

Letters of Note is a daily pit stop for a reason.

Well done Mr. President.

Looking for treasure in all the right places.

Because you never know what could save your life.

An invaluable photo morgue goes to tumblr.

Nothing like watching movies with your buds.

Yeats reads his words.

The internet, where you can get cat macros and great books courses in one stop.

I find this incredibly moving.

In case you need to be inspired to boldly go this weekend.

Friday Jukebox, Henry Hill went to the big supper club in the sky this week, here's a track from the amazing movie his life inspired from one of today's birthday boys.

Barbara Stanwyck Quote

"My only problem is finding a way to play my fortieth fallen female in a different way from my thirty-ninth."

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Sunday's Verse, "The Second Coming" by W.B. Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Sure some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somwhere in the sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?