Happy Pi Day!
Happy Albert Einstein Birth Day*!
*Apologies, the video is from last year.
Have you got five minutes to spare?
No time, you say?
Okay, if you had the time, what would you do with it?
Take your time and think.
I’m in no rush for I, personally, have all the time in the world.
Please stop looking at your
Try to judge time’s movement without mechanics.
When was the last time you considered what time even means?
Or time as more than a deadline?
Is a five-minute wait a waste of time for you?
Depends on the situation, you say?
Big changes in my life may be soon pressed upon me…
While not inevitable, these changes are highly probable…
Ergo, in anticipation, I shall press big and immediate changes upon this website and blog.
This is a poem that isn’t
But probably it could
Even though it shouldn’t
And even if it were
It more than likely wouldn’t
So, I was thinking (yes, I understand the risks)…
But, I was thinking, just imagine if each of the 25,109 and growing followers of this humble site were to donate just $1.00 to help me fund my film LEAVE…
Just imagine how much that would be!
Keep in mind that I am a product of the United States public school system, and that, by design, my higher level degrees have absolutely nothing to do with math, so my calculations may be a bit suspect…
But I believe that if every one of the 25,109 followers were to donate $1.00 to help me fund my film, that would come to the heavenly financial figure of… [finger cipher]…
Now that there would be a whole lotta of cheeze and it would help me in a whole lotta ways in realizing my cinematic dream called LEAVE.
Now, I’m a practical man (not!), and I know all 25,109 of you donating $1.00 each to support my dream is an impossible expectation…
But, let’s consider what you get here for free 24-hours a day, 7-days a week, 365-days a year non-stop and in perpetuity for as long as our pretty yet petulant planet revolves around the sun that may help motivate you towards donating that $1.00…
You get to publish your work to the RELATING TO HUMANS feature…
You get the IABS&R…
You get occasional “PRO-TIPS”…
You get LITERARY ZEN…
You get ARTWORK?…
You get HUMOR…
You get HEALTH advice…
You get MOTIVATIONAL ADVICE…
And you get so much more.
But, even with all this free stuff created just for you forever floating around here, I understand that my hope of everyone donating even just $1.00 is an impossible expectation.
But then again…
AND SO IS THE TRIBE WINNING THE WORLD SERIES!
BUT IT’S THE YEAR OF “BELIEVELAND” BABY!
THIS YEAR, ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!
WHICH MEANS, WITH YOUR HELP
LEAVE IS POSSIBLE!
Too much, right?
Sorry ’bout that…
Please donate what you can, if you can, my friends >> BELIEVE IN LEAVE.
It must mean something that I’m coming across this and that about my hometown on the web recently (maybe it has something to do with the Cavs realigning the Universe with their winning of the NBA Championship).
Thanks so much to my friend Ava of Fresh Brewed Thoughts for “bridging” this to my attention.
Please visit Bruce Stambaugh’s wonderful site to see all of his beautiful covered bridge photographs.
By Bruce Stambaugh
I’ve been curious about covered bridges for a long time. I wondered about their purpose other than the obvious one of crossing from one side of a stream to another.
My curiosity got the best of me recently. Accompanied by my wife and another couple, we went exploring all 18 of Ashtabula County’s covered bridges. We discovered that the unique architectural wonders were so much more than a conveyance from one bank to another.
If you’re not familiar with Ashtabula County, it’s Ohio’s northeastern most county. It bumps against both Lake Erie on the north and Pennsylvania to the east.
It’s a big county with varied topography and land usage. Its trail of covered bridges is one of its most distinctive features. Most of the bridges are still in use today.
Covered bridge hobbyists admire the intricate architectural details of the wooden tunnels. I…
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Many of the haiku and other poems in Short Verses & Other Curses were written as a therapeutic balm in response to my cancer. I don’t know why or how I survived all that nonsense but I suspect writing the poems helped at least a little.
Recent events make it seem to me that my country is suffering such a life-threatening and cancerous disease so I was naturally drawn to some of the poems I wrote for the collection. To some degree they helped again, if only as a temporary distraction from present reality.
I doubt if these poems have any healing power potent enough for all the ills sickening my nation; however, it is out of love and desperation that I shall share them with you now.
For the next day or so, please feel free to download the collection. If any of the poems move you in any way, I ask that you share your thoughts here in the comment section. If you have any other poetry that you believe will help relieve a troubled soul, I ask that you also share those with us as well.
You may download the collection by clicking on its book cover.
When I first began articulating this post in my head, it was framed around the question, “When will it all end?”
But after just a few seconds of contemplation around it I quickly realized that question is quite ridiculous.
Obviously, we are no where near a point in which we can even begin speculating about the end to all this madness.
And after last night’s shootings, I am quite sure we are actually at a new beginning.
A tragic new beginning with an ancient foundation of seemingly immovable hate.
Not just for the other’s race, or the other’s politics, or the other’s finances, but a hate from where all other hate stems.
A hate for ourselves.
We Americans are like the spoiled, bully rich kid who, because he’s always had everything given to him, it is impossible for him to see that everything is all there is.
He wants more and if he can’t have it he is going to whine and kick and piss in his pants and make it a living hell for anyone and everyone around him.
We Americans have it all.
But it’s not enough.
Guns in our society are a problem. But they are not the problem.
We are the problem.
And we know it.
And we hate ourselves for it.