My best friend and I have a thing for the High Line. Ever since the completion of the second part we have been speculating on how long it will take for the third part to be completed. Now there is a date for when it will open to the public. If your bet was September 21st, then you have won. Hooray! I cannotwait to see it. No, I will not be rushing to 30th St. and 10th Ave. on that day. It is a Sunday and I do not like how the MTA treats me on Sundays. Anyway, Monday seems like a smarter day to visit if you are like me and will probably be visiting by your lonely self. Not complaining. Also It is smarter because they are hosting eventsthe entire week to mark the completion of the project. Have a blast! Jane
By day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair:
But all night as the moon so changeth she;
Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy
And subtle serpents gliding in her hair.
By day she wooes me to the outer air,
Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety:
But through the night, a beast she grins at me,
A very monster void of love and prayer.
By day she stands a lie: by night she stands
In all the naked horror of the truth
With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands.
Is this a friend indeed; that I should sell
My soul to her, give her my life and youth,
Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?
Christina Rossetti’s "The World" is one of extremes. A heaven seeming hell occurring within spheres of light and darkness. Read one way, “The World” holds light as liar and night as truthful. Often, light is used as medium of truth and darkness that of falsehood and although the poem seems to be doing the opposite, when a…
I am—yet what I am none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes—
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;
Even the dearest that I loved the best
Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below—above the vaulted sky.
This poem of John Clare's is quite exquisite. It is and it is not and it says just so and explains just so. As is often the case, the complication and resolution of the poem reside in its title, which is the same …
Let's do music today. First things first, Pharrell Williams is hot. Now that that is over with, onward to less important things; a review of his new music, "Freedom." I cannot get enough of it...at least for now. "Happy" introduced me to Williams. Prior to that song I cannot recall knowing of him. The dude is smart. I thought "Happy," might have been a coincidence but now I know it is not. He knows his audience and serves them well by delivering melodic chants of the things we all desire and strive for. Who does not want to be happy or free? See, dude is cool and that is why his new song is on reeeeepeat!
The lyrics are beautifully spiked with poetry. I have copied the whole thing for you below. As mentioned above, the song has been on repeat and as I was being swayed by the wonderful beats and chants of "Freedom,"––head nodding and bobbing; hands shooting into the air; feet tapping tapping tapping away––I could not help but wonder what fr…