The Thingness of Things

Gardener, artist, writer, walker, atheist, disciple of the Buddha, heathen at heart, vegan, gay, pacifist, realist, nature and yoga: In all I seek the middle ground.

Oh yes, It’s real. That video is an excerpt from the 1979 movie “Hair”, an adaptation (That sadly  strays from the original) of the musical of the same name. The original story, and songs are  much better (of course) but I still enjoy the music.

(Poster source.)

Black Boys/White Boys, from the movie version of the musical Hair.

I’ve had that song playing in my head for days!

Pergolesi, Giovanni Battista (1710–1736) - Laudate pueri Dominum: VI. Gloria Patri

Laudate pueri Dominum: VI. Gloria Patri, Giovanni Battista Pergolesi; Philippe Jaroussky, Diego Fasolis, I Barocchisti

(Source: sforzinda, via fuckyeahphilippejaroussky)

Life update:

1. If my brain would quiet down, I’d be happier.

2. I’m planning my next move which is encouraging since I have been feeling stagnant at a dead-end lately. I want to go somewhere new. So I’m setting my aims further east than Quebec City, possibly close to water (the Saint-Lawrence river), if only for a couple of months some time next year. Fingers crossed.

Writing update:

1. I’m working on five, yes five, poems for my English writing blog. This much productivity, even sporadic, is new for me. I like it.

2. My story in French is slowly progressing. There could be improvements on that front.

Garden update: 1½ months’ growth and going strong!
"Mini Gretel" eggplants, the first of the season. They taste sweet and creamy, no bitterness. I would grow them again.

(Source: silhouetter, via inhabitude)


I didn’t think of that.


I didn’t think of that.

(via explodingdog)

“Whether all grow black, or all grow bright, or all remain grey, it is grey we need, to begin with, because of what it is, and of what it can do, made of bright and black, able to shed the former or the latter, and be the latter or the former alone. But perhaps I am prey, on the subject of grey, in the grey, to delusions.”

—   Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable (via robcam-wfu)