My relationship to Shakespeare
Current mood: playful, sleepy
Category: playful, sleepy Writing and Poetry

As I recall, from my college lit. courses on Shakespeare, he used earlier works, by other writers, as the basis for many of his plays.  And, after all, it is not for his stories that he is remembered, but for his use of language, and his characters.  Not that there's anything wrong with his stories, just that that isn't the aspect of his writing that has kept his work alive over the centuries, and around the globe.

I can't write as well as Shakespeare.  You should know that about me.  And much as I envy his skills, and success, the thing I think I'm most likely to cop from him is his appropriation of other people's stories, because writing a story is hard, Jack.  Short story writing is a skill in itself, and there are masters of that particular universe, but for my money, the longer it is, the more difficult it is to write it.  Not just the tap tap tapping of my fingers on the keyboard, or the skritch, skritch, skritch of the pen across the page.  Oh no.  That's just labor and I can do that.  I can do that for days.  It's telling a story that goes on, hopefully intelligibly, for over one hundred pages.  This is difficult.  This is daunting. 

But if I lift, appropriate - oh heck - steal a story idea from someone else - hopefully someone who either predates copyright or whose copyright has expired, then I have my story, beginning, middle and end, and I can spend my time on the parts I enjoy more - which is to say the parts I seem to have some talent for - characters and dialogue. 

So it seems to me that it's time for me to start reading folk tales, fables, myths, Homer, Chaucer, Marlowe and a bunch o' other old geezers and "flatter" them.  For it's been said that "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

Exit I, slouching towards Bethlehem, or at least the Old Globe.

Currently reading : True Enough: Learning to Live in a Post-Fact Society By Farhad Manjoo

9:51 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Counting my blessings in limbo
Current mood: hopeful

Limbo, according to Wikipedia, refers to the edge of hell.  So to say I'm in limbo is an exaggeration.  However, as we commonly use the word, it seems appropriate.

I'm in limbo.  On tenterhooks.  Anxious.  Worried.  Concerned.  And, using a different perspective, saving  around $17.50 a day.

Say wha?

I live in a one bedroom apartment, in a building with just over 20 units.  Two stories around a swimming pool.  I've lived here - cue stability theme music - just over 19 years now.  It's the longest I've ever lived in one place, beating the amazing stability of childhood, when I lived in the same house from birth 'til college.

About a month ago the building I live in changed hands.  New owners. 

I've been aware for some time that rents in the L.A. area had risen...and risen, and risen.  And risen.  Yet my rent had increased very little.  The city of Los Angeles has rent control.  My municipality does not.  If I had stayed in the (rent controlled) studio apartment I first lived in when I moved to L.A. - well, it would still be too small, but the rent...actually, the rent might be higher than what I'm paying now.  But I wouldn't be face to face with the very real possibility of a LARGE rent increase.  I didn't.  I moved.  What did I know?

I'm paying way below market rates.  I expected to receive a 30 day notice of rent increase on August first.  Haven't gotten it.  Don't know why.  I'm paying $715/mo.  Don't know what it's like in the rest of the country, or the rest of the world, but here in the L.A. area that is a steal.  It's amazing.  I only know one person who has a better deal.  Maybe two.

There is one unit in my building that is vacant.  It is nearly identical to my apartment.  They are asking $1250/mo. on a one year lease.  I've always been on a month to month agreement, not a lease.  $1250 is $535 over what I pay, which is how I come to the $17.50 a day.  535 divided by 30.5 (the approximate average number of days in a month...365/12) is approximately 17.50.

So, although I'm waiting and waiting and waiting for the boom to be lowered, the shoe to drop, the sentence to be pronounced, I'm still paying $715/mo. and "saving" $17.50/day.

This is limbo I can live with.  This limbo rocks.

Currently watching : Double Indemnity [Barbara Stanwyck & Fred Macmurray]

9:14 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

They’re out there

Most if not all of the readers of my blogs (there are some, right?) probably know me personally.  In which case they already know I'm a professional actor.  If you didn't already know, now you do.  I started acting nearly 30 years ago.  I'm not famous.  I probably didn't need to tell you that.

Recently, I received an e-mail from a fellow with the wonderful first name of Dax, who wrote to me from his home in England, asking if I would autograph a photo of myself, taken from an episode of The X-Files that I did in 2000;

an episode with the internationally famous magician, and historian of magic, Ricky Jay. 

I don't really understand why people collect autographs, except for those who do it for money.  I understand wanting more money.    I do however, have some understanding of the impulse to collect.  I have around 20 little toy cars, like Hot Wheels. 

I'm certain most of you wouldn't really understand why I want those.  Anyway, my autograph is worth very little.  In fact, earlier this year, I got a Google alert which led me to Ebay where I discovered that a photo of me, which I autographed in 1989 and sent to a fan of General Hospital, on which I appeared in 15 episodes as Serge, a Greek brain washer masquerading as an ice cream vendor, was offered for sale for 39 cents.  Which I found hilarious.

A couple of weeks later, my agent, Craig Wyckoff, called to let me know that a letter had arrived for me.  I drove over to get it.  As I walked into Craig's office, I pointed out to him that a huge billboard for the new X-Files movie was visible from his office window, which I found a pleasant coincidence, since I was there to pick up a photo of myself doing an episode of X-F.  Craig gave me the envelope, I opened it, and there was a card, like a baseball card, or a card from a board game, of me in my extensive makeup for the role I played

(myspace is giving me problems with the text here)

...the role I played on

S t a r T r e k:Enterprise in 2003.

I figured I had somehow misunderstood.

 My first reaction was that this card must have been part of something that had been sold, in which case why hadn't I been paid for the use of my image?  Then I noticed that the return address was from Massachusetts.  What an amazing coincidence.  This request for an autograph had nothing to do with the other request for an autograph, yet both had occurred within a 2 week period of each other, years after I'd done either show.

I contacted the Massachusetts guy, Greg, and found out that the Enterprise card with my image was homemade, but similar to ones (none of which had included me) that had been used for a now defunct web based game.  Greg offered to send me one of his homemade cards for me to keep.  As for me, I autographed the card and mailed it back.

A week later, the package from Dax arrived, and I autographed 2 photos and an X-Files trading card (that didn't have a picture of me on it) for Dax, and mailed it back to him.  I e-mailed Dax to let him know I had sent the photos back to him, and let him know about the curious coincidence, which then got even more curious.  As it turns out, Dax in England knows Greg in Massachusetts, but neither had known the other was also writing to me for an autograph.

How X-Files is that?  Cue spooky music.

Currently watching : Crash (Widescreen Edition) Release date: 2005-09-06

3:41 PM - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

This day, 1969

Today should be a national, if not international, holiday.  It is the anniversary of Neil Armstrong setting foot on our moon, in 1969.  The "giant leap for mankind."  Not that we've done all that much with it, but some, some.

It'd be great if we would stop destroying this planet we live on.  Even if we had an escape plan, which we don't, it's still be great.  Al Gore's recent green challenge is visionary.  Not that anyone believes we're going to completely alter our energy sources in ten years - it's still a terrific benchmark.

However, I don't think we even need to consider energy matters, global warming, biodiversity or cute polar bear cubs for the exploration of space to be near the top of desirable human endeavors.  What's out there?  How can we possibly not want to know?  How can we possibly not put effort and treasure into finding out?  It's the equivalent of deciding never to leave the house.  The earth, our earth, our home, this blue green miniscule globe spinning around our sun, here in the Milky Way is so small, so very very small within the vastness of the universe.  There are kids in L.A. who have never seen the ocean.  Isn't that sad?  We've been to the moon.  We've sent unpeopled explorers to Mars.  We've done drive-bys of Saturn.  More.  Farther.  More.

There have been amazing advances.  Thank you thank you thank you to every single person who had anything to do with the Hubble telescope.  Thank you to every astronaut, with any of whom I would trade places in a heartbeat.  Thanks be for the exploration that has been accomplished, and is being accomplished at this very moment, and this one and this one.

More.  I want more.  More space exploration, with and without persons aboard.  More giant leaps for mankind (or person-kind...heroic space lingo seems a bit retro).

In 1969, a human being, for the first time, set foot on the moon.  What an amazing accomplishment.  Today should be a holiday.  Not Neil Armstrong day, hero that he is, but perhaps Moon Day, or Luna Day, Space Day or Great Leap Day.

What's out there?  Surely we want to know.  How could we not?

Currently watching : The Big Trail (Widescreen Two-Disc Special Edition) Release date: 2008-05-13

9:20 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

When we are old and gray

I was at a social/business gathering yesterday, an open house for the business of a friend, and during a conversation, I made a reference to a well known line from the film The Treasure of The Sierra Madre ("I don't have to show you any stinkin' badges.").  One of the people I was talking to, a guy around my own age, made a comment that one of the other people in the conversation wouldn't understand the reference because he is too young.  This struck me as odd, since the film was released in 1948, before any of the people in this conversation had been born.  Even me!  When I was an undergraduate, and during my twenties, Bogart's movies were big in the revival houses and lots of people saw them who hadn't seen them, and hadn't been alive to see them, during their initial releases.  And it could have been this that the fellow meant when he suggested the younger man, in his twenties, wouldn't get the film reference.  Yet there is something absurd in this suggestion. 

Some years ago I studied acting with Cameron Thor.  I was, most of the time, the oldest person in class.  Older than Cameron as well.  And Cameron from time to time would make some reference to my age, or simply ask me - again ! - how old I was.  The remarks were without malice, were, in fact, usually intended to tease me.  However, one time, Cam made reference to some old film, made years and years before I had been born, and asked me about it - as though only someone of my age might have seen a film made that long ago.  As though I had been around to see it when it was first shown! 

Films hang around.  You can see pretty much any film, made pretty much any year, now, next week, next year.  Cam might have been refering to the supposedly shallow education the more youthful members of his class had had, I'm not sure.  Or it may have been complimentary, conveying his confidence that I had a thorough cinematic education.

However, the conversation yesterday amused me, in part because one of the relatively joyful aspects of aging is getting to revel in old fogiedom, something I am definitely guilty of.

Currently reading : Breakfast of Champions By Kurt Vonnegut Release date: 1999-05-11

11:54 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Quantum musings

Read a review today of a book called The Black Hole War.  The book is by Leonard Susskind.  The reviewer is Jesse Cohen, and I read it in the Los Angeles Times Book Review.  The subtitle is: My Battle With Stephen Hawking to Make the World Safe for Quantum Mechanics.

I guess I'm a geek wannabe.  Not too long ago I got a copy of Physics for Dummies from my local library.  No lie, that's the title.  Unfortunately, it was too difficult for me.  Or it may have just used too many terms I'm not familiar with, and with my lousy memory, I lost track of the words after I'd read what they meant, so I had trouble following what was written.  Or, back to one, maybe it was just too difficult for me.  Which is too bad, because I find myself attracted to the sciences now, unlike when I was a youth, and really wasn't interested.  In fact, I got the first of the two failing grades I ever got for freshman biology in high school - although that was mostly because I didn't turn in two of the major assignments: a leaf collection and a weed collection.  I didn't fail because I'd slugged the guy sitting next to me.  I know this because the teacher didn't see it, and Dennis, the guy sitting next to me, didn't report me.  In fact, we were friends, although I can't recall if we were friends at the time.

 He had one of those single hole punches that look vaguely like a pair of pliers, and, being bored, I suppose, he picked up the paperback book I was reading (Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein) and punched a hole in the cover.  So I punched him.  Or pounded his head on the desk top.  I don't remember which, but it was one of those.  I wasn't a violent kid, but I had a lot of anger held, for the most part, in check.

Anyway, in The Black Hole War, Susskind writes about his holographic principle, "which states that our universe is a three-dimensional projection of information stored in two dimensions at the boundary of space...."  How can you not love stuff like that?  Especially when it neatly fits in with my own theory, based on nothing other than my imagination, that life on earth is either an archive or an experiment or a computer program running through a series of calculations, which may be the experiment.  That something or someone or someones left the information here, or started the experiment or program running, and left, with the intention to return at a later time.  Whether or not that time is yet to come, or that that which started the ball rolling, is, in fact, not returning, I don't know.  The archive idea was where I started.  The experiment, or running program was a next step from that.

I really don't think it makes any difference, at least to my life, whether we're an archive, an experiment, a computer program, or part of a three-dimensional projection of information, since I don't think I'll live long enough to see any tangible evidence - at least that I'm capable of comprehending - one way or the other.  But it's such a blast to consider.  The stuff I've read about quantum mechanics is fascinating.  It blasts our common sense notions of time and place and reality all to hell and back.

When I was a young man, I couldn't understand how explorers, and scientists could go places where they would live in primitive conditions for long periods of time, presumably without access to essential things such as sex.  Well, I was a young man, and sex was a huge motivator for me.  I did some pretty darned foolish, and certainly immature things as a result of hormone toxicity.  I'm fortunate there were, to the best of my knowledge, no serious results or repercussions. 

Now, no longer a young man, if I were given the opportunity to go into space - particularly if it were to go deep into space, not just orbit the earth (although I would dearly love to do that) - I would jump at it, even if it were a one-way trip.  To see the planets of our solar system.  To see other galaxies, to see nebulas, oh the very idea fills me with glee.

And yet, I've made very little effort to see the various sights of this planet I'm on.  Which - this lack of travelling - is something I've never been able to make sense of.  I've been to England and Scotland and The Netherlands and Italy and Mexico and New Zealand and Canada.  I've been to D.C. and Austin and San Antonio and El Paso and parts of Michigan and Wisconsin and The Grand Canyon, and Albuquerque and Santa Fe and Las Vegas.  I've driven and hitchhiked across the U.S. and across Canada, and lived in Chicago and Seattle and Portland Oregon and San Francisco and on California's central coast and Los Angeles.  But that's a drop in the bucket.  I've never been anywhere in Asia, and never further south than Guadalajara Mexico, unless Christchurch New Zealand is further south.  It puzzles me, since seeing this world seems to me to make more sense than possibly any other pursuit.  It's harsh that we don't get to visit the moon, or Mars or other galaxies.  So why, with the world available, have I seen so little of it? 

 I do not know.  I do not.  Every trip I've taken seems to have been worthwhile.  Yet I don't go.  Then again, perhaps my imagination is as real as all these places I dream of going to.  Perhaps it's all a three dimensional projection of information stored in two dimensions at the boundary of space.

10:53 PM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

Your message here
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping

Well it certainly was my intention to blog more regularly than I have.  And it is my intention to blog more regularly in the future.  Let's see how I do.

A couple of weeks ago I was in a Starbux in my area, and a young girl, maybe 16 or 17, came in wearing a pair of very short shorts.  There was large printing across the butt.  Perhaps, like me, you've gotten used to seeing the word "Pink" written across the butt of women's clothing.  I assume that it's a brand name, and a marketing ploy as well.  I don't know if anyone remembers Hustler magazine, or if it is still in print, but, as I recall, when they first came out, their brand of nude photos were gynecological in nature, and they expressed that pink was a man's favorite color, it being the color of the skin on the inside of a woman's vagina.  Raunchy.  Objectionable to some, declasse' to most.  And, decades later, after much effort and advancement on the part of the women's movement, we have "Pink" written across the butt of women's clothing.  Not sure what that means, but as I wrote above, I've gotten used to seeing that.

What was new to my experience with the shorts this young girl was wearing, was that it didn't say "Pink", it said "I'd hit that."  Which I believe is a slang term meaning I'd have sex with this person; my rephrasing about as stodgy as one can imagine.  I suppose this young girl could be interested in having sex with lots and lots of guys, but I suspect not.  I think she thinks she's being hip, cool, edgy, rather than debasing herself in public. 

It made me sad.  Personally, I don't care one way or the other if she's having sex, having sex with one person, two, three, four, melodically or harmonically.  If she is having sex, I hope she's being safe, by which I mean using a condom, and not putting herself in unsafe situations - such as wearing those shorts at a party fueled by alcohol.  Anyway, I don't care if she's having sex, or not having sex.  But, somehow, I do care that she plants a message across her posterior that somehow objectifies herself.  That, as I see it, identifies herself not as a person, but as an object with which someone might have sex.  Why do I find this more objectionable than the short skirts and low cut blouses and shirts that I see women wear in on the streets and certainly at the gym I go to?  I don't know.  Maybe it's just another step out into a narrow narrow band of human experience, at the expense, perhaps, or the rest of the panorama that makes up our lives.  Or maybe it's because of her age.  That I don't believe she realizes the statement she's making.  That she no more understands what she's expressing than the much younger girls wearing their sexualized clothing that is, from what I hear, pretty much the only clothing the stores sell for the "tween" set.  They want to be pretty.  Instead they become gruesome parodies of streetwalkers and call girls.

Is it any wonder that there are cultures all around the world who think our culture is rotten?  Our freedoms have become confused with license.  The sexual revolution, which was, overall, I believe, a very good thing, has become mercantilized, and is just one more powerful tool used to sell us things referred to as "goods", but most of which might more accurately be called "bads."

Who produces and markets those shorts referred to above?  What kind of people are they?  Do they even understand the implied meaning of the words?  Do they know teenage girls are wearing them?  Did that girl's parents know?  And if they did, how did they sign off on it?

Maybe I'm making a tempest in a teapot.  All I know for certain is that the experience saddened me.  Maybe I've gotten old.

12:29 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Not so funny e-mails
Category: News and Politics

I have two friends that sometimes e-mail me things they think are funny.  Occasionally these e-mails are socio-political in nature, and these are always things I vehemently disagree with.  Recently one of these friends sent me a cutesy thing with cartoon drawings about how Aunt So&So had put up a bird feeder and put out bird seed and how that had led to too many birds and too much bird poop and being attacked by birds, and then made a comparison between this and immigrants who are in the U.S. illegally.  Here, highlighted in yellow, is an excerpt from that portion of the original e-mail:

4:09 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Six hundred dollars, free!
Current mood: curmudgeonly
Category: curmudgeonly News and Politics

It's mid April now, and soon the federal government will be sending me $600 of my own money back, in the hope that I will spend it and put the economy back on its feet.  I wonder if the wealthy who have benefitted enormously from the President's tax cuts over the past nearly 8 years will also get $600 each.  If they do, will they spend it on French perfume and German cars, which may not do that much to help our economy.  Unlike me, and others in my tax bracket, who, if we spend it on consumer goods at all - rather than gas and food - will patriotically purchase electronics made in China.

Will any of that help our economy?  Maybe they should give this money in some new currency - call it "American dollars", only good for the purchase of things actually produced in the USA.  That might take some diligent searching.  Beer from microbreweries might do the trick, although their hops and barley may or may not come from American agriculture.  And speaking of tricks, perhaps spending that money on local, homegrown hookers would aid the economy more than a DVD player made in China.  Assuming you deal with an American hooker, and not one of these eastern European or southeast Asian hookers.  Sex with a foreign hooker just isn't patriotic.  So, guys, if you are going to wave your (very) red, white and blue (that's appropriate), be sure to plant your flag only in American soil (so to speak).  While you're at it, be sure to use a condom made in the good old USA.  Maybe we could mount (again, so to speak) a campaign: USe A condom.  Get it?  Get it?

Furthermore, I am confused.  It seems to me that I was told, not that long ago, that Americans weren't saving enough money.  Now it seems we're being told to spend more.  Putting that money into the economy is what will get the economic motor running smooth, like a gas guzzling SUV.

Another thing that confuses me - hey, am I beginning to sound like Andy Rooney?  Maybe I can take over his job when he retires.  He's like 108 years old now, isn't he?  I could be the new American Curmudgeon.  I have the chops.  Really.

Anyway, another thing that confuses me is the consumer aspect of the green movement.  Save the environment.  That's a good thing.  Bring reuseable bags when you go grocery shopping.  That makes sense.  But doesn't that hurt the economy?  What will happen to the businesses that make and market plastic and paper bags if everyone starts bringing their cloth bags back and forth to the grocery?  What will happen if this extends beyond bags?  Suppose we hold onto our cars a year or three longer.  Suppose we wear our clothes until they're wearing out (and then maybe mend them.  Horrors!) rather than replacing them when they go out of style - which happens about the time we reach our cars with our new clothing purchases.  Suppose we loan each other our DVDs and CDs, rather than everyone having their own copy of Gigli or Glitter.  Actually, we may be loaning each other our CDs already, in a process called peer to peer, and the music business claims it's going out of business because of it.

Save or spend.  Conserve or consume.  Darn it, it seems to be just like everything else, except possibly smoking cigarettes.  There isn't any clear answer.  One day you're told eating or drinking or taking such and such is bad for you, the next day you're told it is good for you.  The global economy.  Buy locally.  Yesterday I passed a National Guard facility.  A full color banner hung, twisted, dirty and a bit tattered between two trees.  It advised passersby "You can have it all."  Sounds like sound economic, but poor health related advice for a customer at an all you can eat buffet.

We're still one of the wealthiest nations on earth.  At least we live like we are.  Could it be that we, like the next generation of a family that has amassed wealth, take our wealth for granted, and learn, not to make money, but to spend it.  How long can we keep this up?  Will it result in a renewal of energy, new ideas, entrepreneurial spirit, growth?  Or will we start living at a reduced economic level, closer to that of just about everyone else on earth.  Oh, wait, we've already started doing that. 

Darn it, why can't we get someone into the White House that knows how to make our country safer, gas cheaper, medicine free, lower taxes, balance the economy and all 300 million of us happy and sexually satisfied, while wearing a flag pin on his or her lapel and getting the rest of the world to love and respect us?  Is that too much to ask?

10:26 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

sights and sounds
Current mood: thoughtful

When I was a kid, the house I lived in, in Chicago, was about a mile or so from a railroad crossing, and late at night I would hear the train whistle.  It's a sound I've always liked, and I know I'm not alone in that.  There's something so mournful, yet romantic about the sound.  At the same point in my life, my father had a second floor office, and outside the window ran the tracks of the elevated train, which in Chicago is called the El.  The edge of the structure that held the tracks was no more than ten feet from the window, and when the train went by all life went away except for this noise, this enormous, paralyzing noise.  I don't recall the El having a whistle.  Maybe it did.  I rode those trains every Saturday for years, going downtown for art lessons and piano lessons, and I don't remember a whistle.  No romance there.  The only thing mournful about riding the El was passing by the backyards of slum apartment buildings.  Yards of dirt with broken things in them.   Two story brick buildings with wooden staircases on the outside, the bricks layered in the dirt of decades, and the staircases grey at best, any paint they'd ever had long worn off, the dirt of years exacerbated, perhaps, by the El going by going by going by, over and over, every day.  Or maybe the El was electric and didn't pollute.  I don't know.

I can hear car traffic, faintly, from my bedroom window now.  It's not terribly far away, but it's seldom loud enough to be annoying, but it certainly isn't romantic.  Not even mournful.  Sometimes there are police or traffic helicopters in the air nearby or not too far.  They're just barely infrequent enough to be faintly interesting, but again, no romance, no mournfulness. 

My mother, who was born in 1912 in Russia, and who came to the U.S. as a very small child, told me once she remembered that everyone would run out of their houses and into the street and look up into the sky when they heard an airplane, because airplanes were rare and very exotic.

About twenty five years ago I visited Scotland and got as far north as the Orkney Islands, off the northern coast.  There I visited the Ring of Brodgar, a Stonehenge-like ring of enormous standing stones, thought to have been erected 2000, or perhaps 2500 years before the birth of Christ.  I had hiked there, from whichever bed and breakfast I'd stayed in the night before, and just as I arrived, two tour buses left, leaving me the place to myself.  The ground inside the ring was either dug away, or beaten down, but one stepped down perhaps two feet as one passed the stones.  And I sat down with my back against the berm.  It was dead quiet.  The buses were gone, there were no other people there.  No telephone poles, no wiring, no houses within sight.  In the distance was another ring, with less stones still standing.  No airplanes overhead.  No tv, radio, cars, people.  No billboards, snackshops, souvenir stands, parking lots.  I realized that what I was seeing, what I could see in any direction, was, perhaps, no different that if it had been one hundred, two hundred, or twentyfive hundred years earlier.  I'd no wish to have lived then, necessarily, but I hungrily ate up the experience.

We don't get much chance, especially we city dwellers, to experience virtually anything other than the to and fro of contemporary industrial life.  There are wires and machines and buildings and fences and cars and trucks and motorcycles and planes overhead, and people people people everywhere.  How many of us even lift our heads and look at the sky?

The sky is filled with stars.  During the day of course, there are seldom any that can be seen.  And at night, if, like me, you live in a city, there are few.  It is easy to forget that the sky has millions of stars.  That this ethereal beauty has been all but wiped out of our lives by our industrial and technological progress.  I suppose even an ant thinks it is a large thing when there is nothing larger in view.

8:52 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment