A cold has settled into these early mornings -- more October than August. It feels odd to have Autumn begin painting the world while Summer still breathes. I am sure hot days will return, if only for small stretches, but these past few mornings have again reminded us of how crisp the air can be, how clear. In a place where all four seasons are so distinct, like chapters in the year we read, we can forget them as they are until they return, sometimes gently tapping at the door. #smallstories
For friends among the hashtags I regularly use -- #smallstories#smallpoems#smallquotes etc -- I am going to pull back in most digital spaces for the month of July (as I do every year). I may still jump in now and then, but nothing with any regularity. I hope you all keep writing.
Things I noticed on a Front Yard #Feldgang: * the tiniest of flowers in driveway cracks. There's no way I would have paid attention to them otherwise * a lone dandelion, with seeds ready to spread. This one is an outlier of the season * the dead branches of the pine tree, framed underneath, with sky as backdrop, gives a new perspective * a tree trunk as map, framed close, with crags and valleys * a chewed leaf, bugs' dinner left uneaten #smallstories More about project: https://clmooc.com/clmooc-explores-the-world-the-feldgang-variations/
“Through their entanglements with algorithms, global music metadata arrangements, and automatized web-scrapers, streamed music files get wrapped up in the whirlpools of data traffic that surround digital streams.”
-- from Spotify Teardown (Inside the Black Box of Streaming Music) by Maria Erikson, et al, page 78
#smallquotes #AmReading this book by researchers about the inner workings of Spotify and it may be of interest to #MusicCollab friends, too
the wind strums its strings as shadows link arms, moving in and out of each other's proximity, motion to the rhythm of morning's early light
We ourselves wander among the performers of this quiet dance hall -- the corners where sun catches angles -- eyes open to the possibilities of something always in motion
“Words, stories, books allowed me to have not so much a quiet eye -- never, perhaps, my forte when I was young -- but a widened gaze at worlds I could never have imagined from my very small vantage point over Walnut Street, where I met Emily Dickinson, Charlotte Bronte and Margaret Mitchell for the first time.”
-- from Reader, Come Home (The Reading Brain in a Digital World) by Maryanne Wolf, page 88
Its eyeballs tracked my movement as it slid out of the way to avoid me. Stop&Shop has started to use a 'bot called Marty to patrol the floor, and Marty freaked me out. It looks like an abandoned Cylon, if someone had super-glued massive googly eyes on it. Marty's blue neon lights blinked as I walked past. I gave it another look, wondering whose job it will take over and what data it is collecting. Yet another AI intrusion in the world, cloaked in cute. This is how it begins ... #smallstories
I'm looking out the window as I write. An overwhelming green of the world is contrasted with sunlight filtering through our yard. Everything is framed by the window itself, a narrowing field of vision. I move my head to change the view. Our fence seems to shift, but it is mere illusion. Then there is a squirrel, balanced and calm, sitting on a post of the fence and centered into what I am seeing -- this grey creature on our grey fence surrounded by tree green and sun gold. #smallstories
Who is it who leaves this debris here, in this space in the kitchen that always needs to be cleared by day; and then, by morning -- or night, when, just as we feared, with sleep clinging to us, so desperate and dear -- from where does the detritus of children suddenly re-appear?
“Myths do not happen all at once. They do not spring forth whole into the world. They form slowly, rolled between the hands of time until their edges smooth, until the saying of the story gives enough weight to the words -- to the memories -- to keep them rolling on their own.”
-- from A Conjuring of Light by V.E. Schwab, page 469
Run your fingers along the stem of the branch, touch the nub of bark and imperfect design, notice where each leaf becomes a seam of green, something new once grew here
“… mathematicians employ strategies familiar to most readers. They form mental images. They paraphrase in their head. They skim past distracting technicalities. They draw connections … (t)hey engage their emotions, finding pleasure, humor and squeamish discomfort in their reading material.”
— from Math with Bad Drawings (Illuminating the Ideas That Shape Our Reality), by Ben Orlin, page 22