I was walking Happy through the park the other day, when I remembered that I’d sent a photo to Flickr the night before, and because of site maintenance I wasn’t able to check it. You know, make sure it was uploaded and organized properly. Turns out it did not post to Flickr, but here it is.

And it occurred to me it’s pretty stupid to be walking through the park on a beautiful day, thinking about something like this. After all, the Internet isn’t even a real place.

What a thought. The Internet, not a real place. And the next thought was, I shouldn’t tell the people on the internet. They’ll be offended.

Wow. The mind does strange things when we wander too far from the two dimensional non reality of the computer. You’re not offended, are you, my little Max Headrooms? No, I’m sure you’re not. And you won’t be hurt if I tell you I’ve been too long at the zoo. So having bounced into this phenomenological pothole, I’m shutting down, and off to read a (real) book and get some sleep. Maybe a banana. See you tomorrow, if I can find my way back down the rabbit hole.

Oh, and here’s a poem.


The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.