For years I've wondered what the heck these electronic numbers meant, so, before this year disappears, I finally did some research and found that another blogger had the answer. Eugene Salomon, whose very entertaining blog "Cabs are for kissing" is full of astute observations, intelligent opinions, wonderful stories, and useful advice, had also been curious, and he solved the mystery in 2009! "It's an ascending and descending, 24-hour (military style) clock. From
the left it starts with the hour, then
minutes, seconds, tenths of a second, and hundredths of a second.
Starting from the right, you have to look at it two digits at a time and
it's the reverse, a countdown to midnight. The best way to see it is to
focus in on the seconds and watch it change to the next minute, either
forward or backward."
I've become a fan and a follower since reading several posts. Here is a link to Eugene's post, and an introduction to one delightful man!
Figured out how to download from the camera! But it doesn't always work. In fact, after a day of successful downloads, it fails, and I had to force quit to continue. This new rig is also indicating I need a blue tooth device in order to have sound. If it isn't one thing, it's another. Ch-ch-ch-changes in the virtual world can be daunting.
~*~ Wednesday the 4th Hunter College Assembly Hall 69th and Park Avenue Krishna Das chanting for 'Dada J. P. Vaswani'
living master ninety five years old
~*~ Friday the 6th Dearest of my dear friends N. A.
On her way from one State to another, she arrived for breakfast on twenty first Street at seven. Then we walked to Union Square where an obliging film student snapped us in the Gandhi Garden saying our goodbyes.
+
Amy Ernst treated to an early supper at 'Friend of A Farmer' on Irving Place after we met in the afternoon to pick up the new computer she had 'Tekserve' wipe clean to transfer my data from the old rig. It's run by the son of a farmer, and is pricey , but mighty tasty.
Then to my place to set up
An hour and a half of testing and trying, and we were both exhausted.
~*~
Saturday the 7th
Cathedral of St. John the Divine
112th Street on Amsterdam Avenue
"Interfaith Kirtan for World Peace"
honoring the hundredth birth anniversary of
H.H. Swami Satchidananda
Three and a half hours of chanters and musicians from many faith traditions including Krishna Das, C.C. White,
Kirtan Rabbi Andrew Hahn, and Guru Ganesha Singh.
Charming child
Ecstatic dancer
Barefoot poet
Singing Along Two minutes and not great video, just to remember the feeling
Outside
on a break to catch the sunset
See the young white peacock?
There are also two elderly regular peacocks on the property. They each have their own 'houses', are fed twice daily, wander freely, and are never confined. It's an amazing place, with many gardens and I'll return to photograph another day.
~*~
Sunday the 8th
Dharma Mittra Yoga Center
61 West 23 Street
"Living and Dreaming Lucidly"
Tibetan Buddhist Practices with Michael Katz, and Chanting with Krishna Das
A benefit for Chogyal Namkhai Norbu
~*~
Tuesday the 10th
State University of New York
College of Optometry Eye Center
44 West 42nd Street
Last check up for the right eye lens replacement was several hours with lots or wait time to stare, temporarily semi-blinded, at "Arthur"
All is well
New close up glasses prescription won't be fulfilled until the left eye lens is replaced, which is dependent on raising another $500 up front co-pay funds. Hoping to manage that before Summer turns to Fall.
I enjoyed the flowers in planters across 42nd Street as I wended my way back home to nap till the dilation effect wore off.
~*~
"There is a magnet in your heart that will attract true friends. That magnet is unselfishness, thinking of others first; when you learn to live for others, they will live for you."
The snow has stopped. I'm not yet ready to suit up and go out there. Though the sun shines brightly, the wind is gusty, and it's bitterly cold. I might be back later.
A film term describing using nights instead of days to shoot film It's often done in big cities where traffic would prohibit shooting in the daytime. I mention this because I've slipped in to that mode and it's a lot likesliding on molasses, or sliding into oblivion, open palmed, lifeline on the line.
Here's How
One night, I don't sleep
through the night as hoped. Once up, I stay up till past dawn,
stagger awhile then set the alarm for a few hours forward, get up again, stagger more, unable to manage consciousness, return to bed, eventually missing the whole day. even sundown. That night becomes a pattern set to repeat.
I
fill the hours with reading books, emails, blogs and face book, with writing stories, poems and letters, with research, dyeing fabric, artwork, or sewing
projects. I wear earphones to listen to
music or watch video, and am generally quite quiet. My young neighbors have no idea about
the active life of the old woman going on so close to them. A Failed Dye Project
plain white cotton strip pre-soaked in soy milk
spent Iris laid out upon it
folded over with more spent
flowers in between each layer
till it is a small package
pounded with a stone,
laid into a heated solution of vinegar and water
weighted with a stone, put aside for a week,
then dried out, and flowers removed
Results, pale tan with a few marks, no color or flower impressions. I don't have India's book, so, really I was just goofing off, but Deanna soon set me straight, so when more garden flowers pop out, I'll try again, and this time I won't leave the flowers in it, or soak it. I'll do it right like flower pounding ought be done!
Saturday Already (click on the arrow in the white sound bar below)
Rain is due to clear by afternoon, I plan to plant three geraniums rescued from the local Gristede's market before the storm. I have an urgent need of red in the garden
I Must Confide
I've been very upset, and somewhat inspired by the news out of Turkey, where a
friend and neighbor happens to be with his art students. He sent this
lovely video
The sexy part of sex was never a word,
nor organ, named or blamed, but a bird,
worth more in the hand than tangled
between every suggestively angled
rose bush, with formidable thorns,
velvety petals, and scent that warms.
Flesh, our mortal prison, and the form
upon which many pleasures may be worn,
wears out as well. Once full revealed,
the apple, down to its hardcore peeled,
is seeds that seek more fertile ground that they might grow another round.
Each go-round carries time away
teaching flesh there's limits to its day,
wherein every bond but love is broken.
'La petite mort' then, is 'meme', a token, the 'practice' by which we come to know
'La grande finale' of our show.
Consider Love
Last lines, to be sung with harmonies as chorus:
Best then, use time that lingers here before us enjoying the lessons, feasting while still able--
A magnificent curriculum's laid upon the table.
