Friday leftovers . . .

This week’s headline:

Chocolate could run out in 2020 due to worldwide shortage of cocoa

Friday afternoon. Partly cloudy and not too hot, 80 degrees.

Not going to lie, if I ever came across this particular bug (technically, arthropod), I think it would scare me beyond silly . . .

Mom said:

Photo: Let me go grab you some aloe for that #MomBurn

Office safari (click here to see more of this series):

Speaking of fish . . .

The Star Wars that we used to know (a la Gotye):

Okay, I’ve noticed a trend: extremists tend not to be able to spell worth a damn:

Photo: Took me a sec, but I think they meant "liberty or tyranny"

Oh how we need this here:

The Google?

The Matrix done in 8-bit:

Really bad school dance photos, or, “What were they thinking?”

I cannot even begin to understand what is going on here . . . he’s braiding her hair? Her hair is a set of reins? They killed the abominable snowman and now they’re celebrating by crowning her with a cheap tiara? I could go on and on and on ………………

Aside from the fact that their dresses are butt-ugly hideous, he looks like he is ready to loose some weird kind of violent vengeance with the bouquet he’s been asked to hold.

Julius Caesar knew how to do revenge.

Speaking of ancient . . . ancient statues dressed up in modern clothes, thanks to French photographer Léo Caillard and art director Alexis Persani, who merged sculptures from the Louvre with modern clothing using Photoshop. Click here to see all of them.

I wonder how an alligator trips on acid . . . party hats?

See, I told you!

And to end on a positive note—See, people can be good to one another:

“They’re dangerous as all gifts from the sea are; the sea offers death as well as immortality.” ~ Giuseppe di Lampedusa, from “The Professor and the Siren”

“We spoke of those magic summer nights, looking out over the gulf of Castellammare, when the stars are mirrored in the sleeping sea, and how, lying on your back among the mastic trees, your spirit is lost in the whirling heavens, while the body braces itself, fearing the approach of demons.” ~ Giuseppe di Lampedusa, from “The Professor and the Siren”

Two for Tuesday: Mermaids

Tuesday afternoon. Humid with impending storms, 82 degrees.

A bit of serendipity today: read an essay in The Paris Review by Marina Warner called “The Professor and the Mermaid,” and then came upon a poem by Pablo Neruda that I had never seen before. Love when things like this happen.

Howard Pyle The Mermaid 1910

“The Mermaid” (1910, oil on canvas)
by Howard Pyle

                   

Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks

All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.

~ Pablo Neruda

                   

The Little Mermaid by Charles Santore

“The Little Mermaid” (1993, illustration)
by Charles Santore

Mermaid Song

for Aya at fifteen

Damp-haired from the bath, you drape yourself
upside down across the sofa, reading,
one hand idly sunk into a bowl
of crackers, goldfish with smiles stamped on.
I think they are growing gills, swimming
up the sweet air to reach you. Small girl,
my slim miracle, they multiply.
In the black hours when I lie sleepless,
near drowning, dread-heavy, your face
is the bright lure I look for, love’s hook
piercing me, hauling me cleanly up.

~ Kim Addonizio

                   

Music by Jon Allen, featuring Amy Smith, “When the Morning Comes”