Day 326 – Renaissance

40 – 100 Best Australian Albums

I haven’t listened to the radio in over a decade. I haven’t really watched television for almost as long. My life has been devoid of advertisements for so long that I cannot even remember what it’s like to have my entertainment interrupted by them.
Continue reading Day 326 – Renaissance

Day 305 – What Are Your 100 Things?

61 – My 100 Things

Bucket lists are a little morbid by definition, but that doesn’t make them a bad idea. While looking around for a suitable list to link to today, I actually found a do-your-own-bucket-list site, and I created one. It was a lot harder than I expected to get a good list of a hundred.
Continue reading Day 305 – What Are Your 100 Things?

Day 285 – Artful Procrastination

81 – 100 of the Best Street Art Photos for 2013

I’m going to be lazy tonight. Last day of my holiday, and all I want to do is scroll through a page with pictures on it… so there it is. My favourites from the 100 below, but I urge you to have a look at them all in the link above; some really clever art.

1) Street Art in Olsztyn, Poland

Art doesn’t have to be complicated to be effective.

We all just want a hug sometimes

3) Chalk Art by David Zinn

It is better when it interacts with its surroundings.

Just sweep it under the rug

53) Street Art in Berlin, Germany

It re-defines something that already existed.

Titanic ahoi

66) Street Art by Pabi A – In Lund, Sweden

It pushes “outside the box”.

Taking another path

67) Another brick in the wall – In Gorzow, Poland

It can be subtle and easily overlooked.

I’ve got my eye on you

88) Lego house, Warsaw, Poland

It combines similar-yet-contrasting to mutually clarify.

The downstairs appartment

Day 276 – A Dive into Poetry

90 – Top 100 Poems

Upon close count, not quite 100. But I’ll go by the claim, over reality.

Poetry is hard. Often I don’t have the patience for poetry, because it is too short. Where a 500 word article would walk leisurely through its idea, a poem might distil that same idea down to a mere 50. Reading poetry is decompression, writing it is compression. Both take effort.

This makes poetry both harder to read and harder to write. But much more satisfying and meaningful. Often for overcoming the challenge. But often also by having discovered how to hold the entirety of a complex thought in mind at once.

The Link Above

The Road Not Taken – by Robert Frost

We all face significant decisions with insufficient information. We cannot tell what’s wrong or right, better or worse, shallow or righteous up-front. Best to choose the best we can, because we’ll claim we made the right choice in retrospect anyway.

America – by Allen Ginsberg

I cannot claim to understand much of Allen’s poetry. Never had the patience to study it. But I loved the scene in the movie Howl where the equally named poem is performed. There is something hypnotic about the performance; the angry spitting out of words of condemnation and the almost-caressing of others.

I think the power of his poems lies more in the performance of them than the actual poem itself. These are definitely superior when watched rather than read.

A Poison Tree – by William Blake

Not a fan. Although the first stanza promises, the rest doesn’t really deliver to my mind. It appears to take as self-evident that the conclusion is to be avoided; but festering fights with foes would easily lead to a desire to see karma realised.

Well written, and well described, but lacking in enlightenment (to my eye).

The Past Below

I don’t really have a memory for poetry.
I enjoy the reading, and then it slips out of my head again. Same with jokes.


There is one exception. I cannot recall all the specifics, but I think it was on the news, while I was still in the Netherlands, about 20 years ago. There was a youth poetry competition for all ages (I assume it was up to 18).

The winning poem was by a young boy though; maybe 6-8 or so.
I doubt he realised all the ways in which what he wrote was aesthetically pleasing. At least to me, and presumably the jury.

In Dutch (from memory):

Als juf thee drinkt
drink ik water
Ik word meester later!

Rough translation:

When teacher[female] drinks tea
I drink water
I’m going to be a teacher[male] when I grow up!

Just 11 words long in the original, but there’s so much there in symmetry and contrast, sympathy and aspiration, present and future; all three lines mutually interlocked in a precious little gem. Even if everything that is there probably hasn’t been put there intentionally, I really couldn’t care less.