Commentary & Opinion
GTFOM
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“That’s fine, dude, I’m not mad at you,” but…
The Re-Con
Here on the river’s edge as the water, like time, slips past. Here is the promise of the long view and the close look.
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Here, where quiet drowns out the distant rancor of fearmongers, we might, instead, be good neighbors.
The Re-Con
Manicfesto: Don the Fondler – definitely a hypocrite, a tin-plated narcissist, an infantile ranter, a distempered emperor
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It’s not so late as it seems nor as early as rumored; but in the crenellated desire for fresh coffee and dull gossip, don’t be surprised if the roof collapses and rats lounge in the basement
The Re-Con
Vermeer: the girl
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Too often we overlook the specificity of beauty in our daily lives: the clamor of synthetic busyness, interminable torrents of online information and rumor, the deceptions of AI
Commentary & Opinion
Consider this
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Why invest in falsehoods rather than truth and in cruelty rather than compassion?
Why willingly deny ourselves and others our individual autonomy? And why ignore the explicit threats of a vain, vengeful autocrat who threatens and degrades, instigates conflict, and appeals to our basest, foulest instincts?
The Re-Con
Out of Time
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Gone: even fading friendships, the lapse of devotion, the failure of vows, and the mirage of ’til death do us part
The Re-Con
Books become you
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Why should I reread a book? To ache. To witness. To wonder. To delight. And to experience again others’ lives in order to enlarge our own. To make not just a living but a life worth living.
The Re-Con
Humpty, Frumpty, Plumpty, Chumpty, Rumpty, Dumbty, Duncey, Numpty, Scumty, Glumty, Grumpy Trumpty
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Ode to the bronzed sore loser barking lies
to chumps like a carnival clown; never one
to take the high road: may he find his way to the pen
The Re-Con
Perhaps: I whittle away. I trudge on. Gristle-coarse. I try. I am. As should we all as the world winds on.
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I am a dream lost in the laced light of dawn. I am memory and gratitude, the risk of November, a promise regretted.
The Re-Con
Randy Koch’s map across ‘the rutted sea” to promises of bounty in the furrowed black earth of the Minnesota prairie
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“How came we through the swells and troughs to rifle God’s pure grace?”