#dannye

[lp-kuba-blog]

Off Da Pineal! #DannyE.B.OnTheBeat

[lambandwolf91]

😓 @sashabankswwe as you wish Boss!

[deadheadland]

Jesus Left Chicago #stuallen #dannyE #txr #stuesday #barshow @TerrapinXroads (at Terrapin Crossroads)

[deadheadland]

Ship Of Fools - @markkaran #txr #grateroom #friendsofrobbie #sunday @scottlawmusic @stevealo @davebrogan #dannyE @TerrapinXroads (at The Grate Room at Terrapin Crossroads)

[misterchu]

Dry water

She’d been beautiful when young. Beautiful like a piece of land in its natural state. Unfenced, unfarmed. He hadn’t known her then, but he’d seen pictures, and they were more than enough.

The age we are when we die is the age we are forever until we are forgotten or everyone who has ever known us or continues to remember us also dies.

There are exceptions, but these are only by a matter of margin. Shakespeare will disappear. George Best go west. Judi Dench be released from the hold of human history. As will human history itself. And then history. At least as we understand it. The water will dry. Known sounds fall to silence.

A heron once stood on the side of a man-made lake in an office park in Itasca, Illinois. It was a little past three on a Monday afternoon. October. Sun was out. He was fishing. Or doing what men also mainly do when engaged in the business of hoping to catch fish.

Waiting. He was entirely still. A matter which made the couple walking along the path that circles around the lake take notice of him. He did not make eye contact. Would not. Did not take his eyes off out in front, the water and the lake.

He was not concerned obviously that they might rush up to him from behind and throw a sack over his head. Not tame as such, but not bothered. Or perhaps he was bothered, at least a bit, but more than anything and with dinnertime approaching he did not want to move and thus be seen by the fish who themselves by the man and woman, the couple, could not be seen.

A slight risk of capture or attack, of death, at one end of the sum, and the specific and certain intention to kill and eat at the other.

After a minute they moved on, kept going with their walk. A little exercise before an early dinner of other animals (some parts of birds, wings) already killed and brought previously to this location of their choosing. A Westin hotel.

Of the heron, which was made and born, survived this far and efficiently, nothing else is known or connected to this slight contact which in itself became for an undetermined amount of time a memory for the two people who saw it.

I don’t know how long herons last for. There are many things that are uncertain about them. It was a good-sized bird.

Now and at home, later, out on the back porch the man has been distracted by a palmetto bug. If you ask him at this precise moment about the heron he saw one afternoon in Itasca, Illinois he would say that he remembers it. Quite well.

Although if you don’t bring it up there’s every chance that no one else will from now until the end of time and, barring one or two coincidences that could occur but are unlikely to, he would never think of the heron and that afternoon again. And thus it wouldn’t be forgotten, but it wouldn’t be remembered either.

Same with the palmetto bug for in this instance nothing happens to do with it within the period that the man is watching.

It waits, it waits, and then scuttles off with a rapid stop and start motion. This is probably almost exactly the time when his wife, the woman, dies upstairs. He sits there some more. Wondering only if the bug will get eaten before morning.

In the rest of his future he won’t think to himself about this twenty minutes or so that is now elapsing between the palmetto bug leaving, his wife leaving, his own considerations as to when the palmetto bug may or may not be permanently leaving and then the going upstairs and the finding out that his wife has left.

--------------------------

The Ojibwe name for "Lake Itasca" was Omashkoozo-zaaga'igan (Elk Lake); this was changed to "Itasca", coined from a combination of the Latin words veritas ("truth") and caput ("head"), though it is sometimes misinterpreted as "true head."

[honorifix]

He tells him that cross is an icon of this place. It's an icon of the earth, a warning sign tacked up to the gates to strike fear into the hearts of the weak and the brave alike. He says that none of us know what this place is, but it sure as hell isn't heaven. God himself couldn't survive here. He was nailed to a tree and suffocated in his own blood. What made any of us think we could possibly be worthy of better treatment? And in light of the terrible inevitability of our personal terminus everything was laid bare except our souls and our beating hearts. All of the bills, and the arguments, and the engine trouble, and asshole bosses were meaningless. We live continuously in the midst of the nuclear explosion of our own deaths. In that hideous, brilliant light there is only one thing brighter, one thing true. Expect no mercy. Love each other. Take care of each other. We have been given to each other. In this place we are all we have.

dannye, via everything2

[the-11-doctor]

Mum decides to make us talk about 2012.

[the-11-doctor]

OOC;

Great.. so..

So, if the meter runs out my charger stops working and when my laptop dies, it dies, and let me tell you, the battery is so old now that the charge on this thing goes down to empty within seconds..

If I ever disappear, after tomorrow, you know why.. :c