Let the Stable Still Astonish - Leslie Leyland Fields
Let the stable still astonish:
Straw – dirt floor, dull eyes,
Dusty flanks of donkeys, oxen;
Crumbling, crooked walls;
No bed to carry that pain,
And then, the child,
Rag-wrapped, laid to cry
In a trough.
Who would have chosen this?
Who would have said: “Yes,
Let the God of all the heavens and earth
Be born here, in this place?
Who but the same God
Who stands in the darker, fouler rooms
Of our hearts
And says, “Yes,
Let the God of Heaven and Earth
Be born here –
In this place.
As I sit here at SFO watching my departure time tick past two hours, I am struck at the the truthiness of the following excerpts from the issue of EW that I’m reading:
…here were the children, who I once believed to be the future, spending all their time figuring out how to make the background of their MySpace page as ugly as possble! So I got a MySpace page. But I had no idea what I was suposed to do with it, and soon abandoned MySpace for Facebook, where at least I can play Scrabble with my friends.
You know who plays Scrabble? Old People.
—–
So, like-what’s the emoticon for “just shoot me now, because next thing you know I’ll be agreeing with Andy Rooney and eating dinner at 4.30pm?” I’d like to post it as my Facebook status as soon as possible. For reasons I don’t understand, this is how we live now.
God, I’m old.
true friendship is receiving text messages like this one:
I just pooped 4x after dinner! Wth
I found this while reading a commentary on The Golden Compass and it’s source material:
Nevertheless, I decided to give His Dark Materials a go a couple of months ago because of all the chin music. It is typical to give Pullman high marks for some of his more inventive gimmicks, like the daemons. Frankly, they wore thin by the second book. Just more talking animals. The author’s inversion of, and therefore dependence on, C.S. Lewis is as subtle as a colonoscopy, but he also owes a debt to Madeleine L’Engle, it seems to me. And then there are all those witches, the single most boring group of preternatural creatures ever concocted. In the second book, they just go on and on until you realize why the Puritans finally burned them at the stake–it was the only way to make them stop talking.
I saw this warning message today when I logged into our timekeeping application:
Please use the “Log Out” link in the upper right-hand corner of your screen to exit Unanet. Simply closing your browser may hinder performance of the application.
Maybe it’s time to find a new job…
