One million elephants couldn't begin to understand » 2017 » November

Archive for November, 2017

Thursday, November 30th, 2017

 

I could never understand why the girls’ school next to our boys’ school
was surrounded by barbed wire. Later I came to realize it was a life lesson.

Wednesday, November 29th, 2017

 

Would that I could say I was sent to school to learn
and to spend my youth in virtue. I always thought
I would have made a goodly convent girl
but it has too often been my lot to be miscast.

Tuesday, November 28th, 2017

 

10 THINGS THAT CAME TO MIND EARLY THIS MORNING – #2

1. Hats – (men’s hats)
2. The power cables of the brain
3. Holes in the Day
4. What people bear
5. Dying hair
6. Edmund Spenser
7. Some kind of fuel
8. Bathroom tissues
9. The eccentricity of eccentricity
10. Chopin

Monday, November 27th, 2017

 

I just downloaded The Bible to my Kindle
Not because I’m religious but
Because I enjoy reading the Bible –
Some of the language is terrific

But it says the author is God. That can’t be right, can it?

Sunday, November 26th, 2017

 

Does anyone have a goose?
I need to write a poison quill letter and find myself sans quill — an awful state
to be in, as anyone who has ever been in it will tell you. And yes,
you don’t actually need to have the entire goose — just the writerly part of it.

Saturday, November 25th, 2017

 

I remember thinking the pigs were enjoying a better standard of living than I was –
but my thinking was almost certainly influenced by my state of mind at the time.

Friday, November 24th, 2017

 

Since you left I have been sand
at the mercy of the wind.

Thursday, November 23rd, 2017

 

I wanted to go to music school
but they said I could go whistle.

Wednesday, November 22nd, 2017

 

10 THINGS THAT CAME TO MIND EARLY THIS MORNING

1. Shoes – (lady shoes)
2. The electricity of dreams
3. Holiday
4. What people are
5. Dietary considerations
6. André Breton
7. Gas
8. Control issues
9. The electricity of electricity
10. Bach

Tuesday, November 21st, 2017

 

The Drones of André Breton:
“as carrier pigeons photograph the enemy camp without wanting to”