clothed from head to foot in song.

The Truly Great

I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still untouched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit, clothed from the head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.

What is precious, is never to forget
The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth.
Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light
Nor its grave evening demand for love.
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog, the flowering of the Spirit.

Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields,
See how these names are fĂȘted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life,
Who wore at their hearts the fire's centre.
Born of the sun, they travelled a short while toward the sun
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.

--- Stephen Spender


we listened to it twice, 'cause the dj was alseep.

No, this is how it works:
you peer inside yourself,
you take the things you like
& try to love the things you took.

And then you take that love you made
& stick it into some- someone else's heart,
pumping someone else's blood.

And walking arm in arm,
you hope it don't get harmed.
But even if it does
you'll just do it all again.


ciao, bella. salute, mon cher.

Let's all dress like Europeans tomorrow. Tousle your hair, iron your clothes, wear sunglasses no matter the weather and shoes that make strangers stare.

[More at Sartorialist, whose book you should already have on pre-order.]


happy birthday to a country once called a "magnificent spectacle of human happiness."

There is no better place in the world than Washington, D.C. on the 4th of July. Crowds push toward the metro stations, families pour into parks armed with lawn chairs and waterbottles, yuppies head to their office buildings to see the view from the rooftop, and when dusk begins to fall, the air is think with anticipation and humidity.

And then pop BOOM fizzle! Fireworks shoot up, spread their lightening arms out wide, and dive back down to rain over the monuments. This year I watched the display from the Iwo Jima Memorial in Rosslyn, and even though the fireworks always feels too short, it was beautiful while it lasted.

"The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward for evermore."

--- John Adams to Abigail Adams, July 3, 1776.

[He was off on the date, but right where it counted.]

Hope your holiday was wonderful.