BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
memo
No one chooses his own story.
Black & White for Faces.. B&W looks into the soul, it looks into the eyes, and through the eyes into the soul.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Forgotten Days
You think I forgot
The bed and those yellowed sheets.
The iron bedstead,
The whiskey bottle on the nightstand,
Quiet music from the next room.
Your dress on the floor,
That fragrance of only you,
The sighs of oak leaves
Caressing the window pane.
And your whispers in my ear.
Did I bite, or was it you?
That, at last, I have forgot.
mek
Forgotten Days
You think I forgot
The bed and those yellowed sheets.
The iron bedstead,
The whiskey bottle on the nightstand,
Quiet music from the next room.
Your dress on the floor,
That fragrance of only you,
The sighs of oak leaves
Caressing the window pane.
And your whispers in my ear.
Did I bite, or was it you?
That, at last, I have forgot.
mek
Monday, August 16, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
On Growing Old
Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying;
My dog and I are old, too old for roving.
Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying,
Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving.
I take the book and gather to the fire,
Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute
The clock ticks to my heart. A withered wire,
Moves a thin ghost of music in the spinet.
I cannot sail your seas, I cannot wander
Your corn-land, nor your hill-land, nor your valleys
Ever again, nor share the battle yonder
Where the young knight the broken squadron rallies.
Only stay quiet while my mind remembers
The beauty of fire from the beauty of embers.
Beauty, have pity! for the strong have power,
The rich their wealth, the beautiful their grace,
Summer of man its sunlight and its flower.
Spring-time of man, all April in a face.
Only, as in the jostling in the Strand,
Where the mob thrusts, or loiters, or is loud,
The beggar with the saucer in his hand
Asks only a penny from the passing crowd,
So, from this glittering world with all its fashion,
Its fire, and play of men, its stir, its march,
Let me have wisdom, Beauty, wisdom and passion,
Bread to the soul, rain when the summers parch.
Give me but these, and though the darkness close
Even the night will blossom as the rose.
John Masefield
On Growing Old
Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying;
My dog and I are old, too old for roving.
Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying,
Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving.
I take the book and gather to the fire,
Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute
The clock ticks to my heart. A withered wire,
Moves a thin ghost of music in the spinet.
I cannot sail your seas, I cannot wander
Your corn-land, nor your hill-land, nor your valleys
Ever again, nor share the battle yonder
Where the young knight the broken squadron rallies.
Only stay quiet while my mind remembers
The beauty of fire from the beauty of embers.
Beauty, have pity! for the strong have power,
The rich their wealth, the beautiful their grace,
Summer of man its sunlight and its flower.
Spring-time of man, all April in a face.
Only, as in the jostling in the Strand,
Where the mob thrusts, or loiters, or is loud,
The beggar with the saucer in his hand
Asks only a penny from the passing crowd,
So, from this glittering world with all its fashion,
Its fire, and play of men, its stir, its march,
Let me have wisdom, Beauty, wisdom and passion,
Bread to the soul, rain when the summers parch.
Give me but these, and though the darkness close
Even the night will blossom as the rose.
John Masefield
Sunday, August 15, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
"Calm is all Nature as a Resting Wheel."
Calm is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass,
Is cropping audibly his later meal:
Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal
O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky.
Now, in this blank of things, a harmony,
Home-felt, and home-created, comes to heal
That grief for which the senses still supply
Fresh food; for only then, when memory
Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain
Those busy cares that would allay my pain;
Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel
The officious touch that makes me droop again.
William Wordsworth
"Calm is all Nature as a Resting Wheel."
Calm is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass,
Is cropping audibly his later meal:
Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal
O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky.
Now, in this blank of things, a harmony,
Home-felt, and home-created, comes to heal
That grief for which the senses still supply
Fresh food; for only then, when memory
Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain
Those busy cares that would allay my pain;
Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel
The officious touch that makes me droop again.
William Wordsworth
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Flannery O'Conner
from "The Church & the Fiction Writer"
What the Catholic fiction writer must realize is that those who question [the faith] are not insane at all, they are not utterly foolish and irrelevant, they are not utterly foolish and irrelevant, they are for the most part acting according to their lights. What he must get over is that they don't have the complete light.
Flannery O'Conner
Friday, August 06, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
mek Aug 5, 2010
Thinking of my Father
Yesterday was a wonderful blue sky day.
I saw pelicans fishing while I swam
In spring sea water, still cool,
The summer warm soon to come.
Like you, I swam out far
And the beach seemed out of reach
I cried because you are gone,
But all you gave me
Runs always in my blood.
Sunday, August 01, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Dreams
Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.
Robert Herrick
Dreams
Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.
Robert Herrick
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
“We are so addicted to looking outside ourselves that we have lost access to our inner being almost completely. We are terrified to look inward, because our culture has given us no idea of what we will find. We may even think that if we do, we will be in danger of madness. This is one of the last and most resourceful ploys of ego to prevent us from discovering our real nature.
So we make our lives so hectic that we eliminate the slightest risk of looking into ourselves. Even the idea of meditation can scare people. When they hear the words egoless or emptiness, they think that experiencing those states will be like being thrown out the door of a spaceship to float forever in a dark, chilling void. Nothing could be further from the truth. But in a world dedicated to distraction, silence and stillness terrify us; we protect ourselves from them with noise and frantic busyness. Looking into the nature of our mind is the last thing we would dare to do.”
— Sogyal Rinpoche via Glimpse of the Day, July 7 (via sharanam)
Reblogged from it's all dhamma..
Tags: Sogyal RinpocheWisdom TraditionsTibetan Buddhism
July 09, 2010, 9:52am 0 Comments and 0 Reactions
» Consider
"The word consider comes to us from around 1350 CE, and it traces its origins through the Middle English consideren and the Latin considerare, both words meaning “with the stars” or “in the company of the stars”. Those origins are shared with other English words like constellation and sidereal, the former describing a whole group of stars glowing up there in the night sky, and the latter meaning simply “starry” and by extension, celestial or heavenly…”
(from Beyond The Fields We Know)
“No, the point is not only does time fly and do we die, but that in these reckless conditions we live at all, and are vouchsafed, for the duration of certain inexplicable moments, to know it.”
— Annie Dillard (from Whiskey River)
Tags: Annie DillardDeathWisdom TraditionsQuotesWriters
“Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don’t stop to think, don’t interrupt the scream, exhale, release life’s rapture. Everything is blooming. Everything is flying. Everything is screaming, choking on its screams. Laughter. Running. Let-down hair. That is all there is to life.”
V.Nabokov
“We are so addicted to looking outside ourselves that we have lost access to our inner being almost completely. We are terrified to look inward, because our culture has given us no idea of what we will find. We may even think that if we do, we will be in danger of madness. This is one of the last and most resourceful ploys of ego to prevent us from discovering our real nature.
So we make our lives so hectic that we eliminate the slightest risk of looking into ourselves. Even the idea of meditation can scare people. When they hear the words egoless or emptiness, they think that experiencing those states will be like being thrown out the door of a spaceship to float forever in a dark, chilling void. Nothing could be further from the truth. But in a world dedicated to distraction, silence and stillness terrify us; we protect ourselves from them with noise and frantic busyness. Looking into the nature of our mind is the last thing we would dare to do.”
— Sogyal Rinpoche via Glimpse of the Day, July 7 (via sharanam)
Reblogged from it's all dhamma..
Tags: Sogyal RinpocheWisdom TraditionsTibetan Buddhism
July 09, 2010, 9:52am 0 Comments and 0 Reactions
» Consider
"The word consider comes to us from around 1350 CE, and it traces its origins through the Middle English consideren and the Latin considerare, both words meaning “with the stars” or “in the company of the stars”. Those origins are shared with other English words like constellation and sidereal, the former describing a whole group of stars glowing up there in the night sky, and the latter meaning simply “starry” and by extension, celestial or heavenly…”
(from Beyond The Fields We Know)
“No, the point is not only does time fly and do we die, but that in these reckless conditions we live at all, and are vouchsafed, for the duration of certain inexplicable moments, to know it.”
— Annie Dillard (from Whiskey River)
Tags: Annie DillardDeathWisdom TraditionsQuotesWriters
“Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don’t stop to think, don’t interrupt the scream, exhale, release life’s rapture. Everything is blooming. Everything is flying. Everything is screaming, choking on its screams. Laughter. Running. Let-down hair. That is all there is to life.”
V.Nabokov
Thursday, May 27, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
The chairs and lounges were taken from the beach
A Birthday Note for my Wife of 47 Years
The chairs and lounges were taken from the beach
years ago, and the gate closed and locked. Over
the ocean, far from our window
a windswept moon rises into dark night.
Far away rollers ride the sea, their sound arriving
out of darkness, and white surf crashes on the sand.
We look at each other, now older than we were.
Nodding, we know what was once unknown.
mek May 26, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
INVICTUS
by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
INVICTUS
by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
If you had the choice of two women to wed,
(Though of course the idea is quite absurd)
And the first from her heels to her dainty head
Was charming in every sense of the word:
And yet in the past (I grieve to state),
She never had been exactly "straight".
And the second -- she was beyond all cavil,
A model of virtue, I must confess;
And yet, alas! she was dull as the devil,
And rather a dowd in the way of dress;
Though what she was lacking in wit and beauty,
She more than made up for in "sense of duty".
Now, suppose you must wed, and make no blunder,
And either would love you, and let you win her --
Which of the two would you choose, I wonder,
The stolid saint or the sparkling sinner?
Robert William Service
I don't know,I chose the saint and am much the happier for it.
If you had the choice of two women to wed,
(Though of course the idea is quite absurd)
And the first from her heels to her dainty head
Was charming in every sense of the word:
And yet in the past (I grieve to state),
She never had been exactly "straight".
And the second -- she was beyond all cavil,
A model of virtue, I must confess;
And yet, alas! she was dull as the devil,
And rather a dowd in the way of dress;
Though what she was lacking in wit and beauty,
She more than made up for in "sense of duty".
Now, suppose you must wed, and make no blunder,
And either would love you, and let you win her --
Which of the two would you choose, I wonder,
The stolid saint or the sparkling sinner?
Robert William Service
I don't know,I chose the saint and am much the happier for it.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
A Repeat from April 2005
Has every grandisonic, lexiphnanic phrasemonger found his way to
Deadwood on Sunday nights? Have I been hornswoggled by its
magniloquent, bedizened language? Am I getting cock sucking
over-excited, overly enthusiastic about this fucking program, or is it
really approaching fucking Shakespearean heights?
mek
A Repeat from April 2005
Has every grandisonic, lexiphnanic phrasemonger found his way to
Deadwood on Sunday nights? Have I been hornswoggled by its
magniloquent, bedizened language? Am I getting cock sucking
over-excited, overly enthusiastic about this fucking program, or is it
really approaching fucking Shakespearean heights?
mek
Sunday, March 07, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
"Life is nothing but a competition to be the criminal instead of the victim."
Bertrand Russell.
"My loathings are simple: Stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music."
Vladimir Nobokov
Yes, I want to be attentive, to see how things work, to see what things people do. I am a watchman, I guess, like Alvaro Murtis' 'watchman.'
But my habit of being at a distance from my own life, and for that matter being at a distance from the lives of those I love, the lives around me--removes me from what is real.I am always peering through a window to see what's real. But I can't "feel" through the glass.--Is that the way I want it?
m e k
Pictures must not be too expressive.
Ralph Waldo Emerson.
"Life is nothing but a competition to be the criminal instead of the victim."
Bertrand Russell.
"My loathings are simple: Stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music."
Vladimir Nobokov
Yes, I want to be attentive, to see how things work, to see what things people do. I am a watchman, I guess, like Alvaro Murtis' 'watchman.'
But my habit of being at a distance from my own life, and for that matter being at a distance from the lives of those I love, the lives around me--removes me from what is real.I am always peering through a window to see what's real. But I can't "feel" through the glass.--Is that the way I want it?
m e k
Pictures must not be too expressive.
Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
El barman del Caesar’s cuenta chistes que hemos oÃdo mil veces.Un caballo entra en un bar, por ejemplo. Yo susurro Sarah Evers me contó ese chiste en sexto y Josey dice mi hermano Steve en 1982. Una puta, un enano, un chino, nada que no hayamos escuchado. Entonces pregunta un cliente ¿En qué se parecen los martinis y las tetas? Y se echan a reÃr. Se lo saben, todos se lo saben, excepto nosotras. Ni siquiera se molestan en terminarlo. El barman sólo dice SÃ, pero yo siempre he dicho que deberÃa haber una tercera, en la espalda, para cuando bailas, y baila con una mujer de aire, tras la barra, su mano sobre la teta de la espalda. Y entendemos que tres son demasiadas y una no basta. Vale, podemos superarlo. Mis tetas me gustan como los martinis, decimos: pequeñas y manoseadas o grandes y secas. Perfectas. Desbordantes. Apestando a enebro, derramándose sobre la barra. Cuando tengo migraña y ella se me insinúa digo Josey, mis tetas son como martinis. Ella asiente, solemne: Más vale que nadie les ponga las manos encima. ¿Cómo podrÃamos contarle al barman estos chistes? No podrÃamos. No se enterarÃa. Lo digo mientras limpio las vitrinas de la cocina y ella entiende: sucias y mojadas. Caminando en el viento Josey dice Mis tetas son como martinis y yo pido un taxi, sé que quiso decir heladas, temblorosas.
=======================================================================================
And now a toast I heard first from the indefatigable Jose Espino, a Cuban imbiber and raconteur who was my friend for twenty-five years.
"Martinis son como las tetas de una mujer
Una no es basta
Tres son demasiada
Pero dos? --
suficiente y perfecta! "
El barman del Caesar’s cuenta chistes que hemos oÃdo mil veces.Un caballo entra en un bar, por ejemplo. Yo susurro Sarah Evers me contó ese chiste en sexto y Josey dice mi hermano Steve en 1982. Una puta, un enano, un chino, nada que no hayamos escuchado. Entonces pregunta un cliente ¿En qué se parecen los martinis y las tetas? Y se echan a reÃr. Se lo saben, todos se lo saben, excepto nosotras. Ni siquiera se molestan en terminarlo. El barman sólo dice SÃ, pero yo siempre he dicho que deberÃa haber una tercera, en la espalda, para cuando bailas, y baila con una mujer de aire, tras la barra, su mano sobre la teta de la espalda. Y entendemos que tres son demasiadas y una no basta. Vale, podemos superarlo. Mis tetas me gustan como los martinis, decimos: pequeñas y manoseadas o grandes y secas. Perfectas. Desbordantes. Apestando a enebro, derramándose sobre la barra. Cuando tengo migraña y ella se me insinúa digo Josey, mis tetas son como martinis. Ella asiente, solemne: Más vale que nadie les ponga las manos encima. ¿Cómo podrÃamos contarle al barman estos chistes? No podrÃamos. No se enterarÃa. Lo digo mientras limpio las vitrinas de la cocina y ella entiende: sucias y mojadas. Caminando en el viento Josey dice Mis tetas son como martinis y yo pido un taxi, sé que quiso decir heladas, temblorosas.
=======================================================================================
And now a toast I heard first from the indefatigable Jose Espino, a Cuban imbiber and raconteur who was my friend for twenty-five years.
"Martinis son como las tetas de una mujer
Una no es basta
Tres son demasiada
Pero dos? --
suficiente y perfecta! "
Monday, March 01, 2010
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
A question has some in from a reader named "Issac."
Is it possible to reverse the flow of my blood through my veins?
Answer:
The only way is through centrifugal force. You have to get a high speed centrigon (easily available through government surplus.) My guess is that the cost would be about $2500. Be sure that you are belted in properly, and wearing a Benguzzet Helmet. Pressure points will be ankles, knees, pelvis,thorax,and head. Each should be properly afixed to the inner-wall of the centrigon.
About one hour before strapping in, take 4 grams of Onvestium powder per 100 pounds of your own weight. Drink at least a liter of water, but be prepared to urinate during the process by wearing a tight fitting adult diaper.
There should be a medical unit at your side; the best would be a Board certified pulmonary specialist and a nurse practiced in resuscitation. Your pulse should not exceed 100 bpm during the procedure which should take between 15 and 20 minutes depending on your weight.
You did not state in your question whether you are male or female--but should you have long hair it should be netted and bound.
The centrigon should gradually reach 10,000 RPM, and kept at that speed for about ten minutes while turning your body upside down.
You will sense the blood flow reversal but it will not be an overwhelming feeling.
It would be normal for you to black out at 7500 RPM, but the procedure should be continued unless your blood pressure exceeds 120.
Good luck!
A question has some in from a reader named "Issac."
Is it possible to reverse the flow of my blood through my veins?
Answer:
The only way is through centrifugal force. You have to get a high speed centrigon (easily available through government surplus.) My guess is that the cost would be about $2500. Be sure that you are belted in properly, and wearing a Benguzzet Helmet. Pressure points will be ankles, knees, pelvis,thorax,and head. Each should be properly afixed to the inner-wall of the centrigon.
About one hour before strapping in, take 4 grams of Onvestium powder per 100 pounds of your own weight. Drink at least a liter of water, but be prepared to urinate during the process by wearing a tight fitting adult diaper.
There should be a medical unit at your side; the best would be a Board certified pulmonary specialist and a nurse practiced in resuscitation. Your pulse should not exceed 100 bpm during the procedure which should take between 15 and 20 minutes depending on your weight.
You did not state in your question whether you are male or female--but should you have long hair it should be netted and bound.
The centrigon should gradually reach 10,000 RPM, and kept at that speed for about ten minutes while turning your body upside down.
You will sense the blood flow reversal but it will not be an overwhelming feeling.
It would be normal for you to black out at 7500 RPM, but the procedure should be continued unless your blood pressure exceeds 120.
Good luck!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
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