Talk about your day thread

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[dad]

took the day off, and a friend and i replaced the power steering pump in my van. saved over $400.

and deepened a meaningful friendship

trag gets it.

[bodysnatcher]

Did you guys go out for a nice Beyond Meat steak dinner afterward?

[dad]

too early in the day for dinner.

just a simple fist bump.

[wease]

Just noticed this:


So I got that going for me.





Which is nice.

[tree_]

…

[Higgs]

So I got that going for me.





Which is nice.

I say this a lot. I am also fond of "Whoah - did someone step on a duck?“ as well as" the world needs ditch diggers too".

I've seen caddyshack far too many times...

[wease]

So I got that going for me.





Which is nice.

I say this a lot. I am also fond of "Whoah - did someone step on a duck?“ as well as" the world needs ditch diggers too".

I've seen caddyshack far too many times...

Two wrongs don’t make a right, but three rights make a left.

[BurtReynolds]

Cursive r's are murderously hard. Surely there is a better way...

[bodysnatcher]

Uppercase or lowercase?

[BurtReynolds]

Lower

[dad]

let's see what you've done so far.

[BurtReynolds]

I did four pages today. Kinda making up my own capitalized letters as I go. I refuse to write an F or G the "right" way.

[BurtReynolds]

Look at the way I wrote 'discovered.' really proud of that one.

[spike]

Burt, are you just now learning cursive, or returning to it?

[BurtReynolds]

returning. I guess early high school was the last time I used it.

[wease]

Look at the way I wrote 'discovered.' really proud of that one.

That last “d” is a little lazy.

[BurtReynolds]

It was the pen's fault.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[BurtReynolds]

I admire burt's long-term commitment to the legibility of his eventual manifesto

Not so interested in legibility as aesthetic beauty. Only those dedicated to areté will be able to read it. Its like a secret code.