The dearest freshness deep down things
Apr. 6th, 2006 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pjthompsonQuote of the day:
"Our dreams make us large."
—Jack Kirby, illustrator and superhero creator extraordinaire
Interesting sight(s) of the day(s): As I drove through the Marina this morning, up ahead I saw one of those flatbed trucks with the plywood sides. It was filled with multi-colored fiberglass canoes—blue, yellow, orange—jutting above the plywood, their lines flowing back in sinuous arcs, a little train of blue tarp trailing behind. Up near the cab, the black fiberglass paddles were stacked standing up, the paddle part topmost, with a little bit of early morning sun filtering through to make a graylight nimbus where the poles attached. It made them look like dark feathers, and it made the whole cargo look like an enormous Indian headdress.
I thought of the Crazy Horse monument they're carving in South Dakota.
Further on, hunting through a grassy margin lining Washington Boulevard, I saw a wild duck. It was a couple of blocks away from the usual Venice Canal hangout of such critters, but enthusiastic about whatever tasty bits lay in that grass.
Not my first duck of the season. Earlier in the week I saw one crossing Pacific headed towards the beach—though who knows why. To get to the other side, I suppose. The person ahead of me apparently didn't see the duck with that enormous SUV jammed up his/her ass because it barreled right on towards it without any braking whatsoever. I'm sure the driver noticed when the terrified bird flapped right across the windshield and hove off into the air—safe, no thanks to the SUV perp.
"Our dreams make us large."
—Jack Kirby, illustrator and superhero creator extraordinaire
Interesting sight(s) of the day(s): As I drove through the Marina this morning, up ahead I saw one of those flatbed trucks with the plywood sides. It was filled with multi-colored fiberglass canoes—blue, yellow, orange—jutting above the plywood, their lines flowing back in sinuous arcs, a little train of blue tarp trailing behind. Up near the cab, the black fiberglass paddles were stacked standing up, the paddle part topmost, with a little bit of early morning sun filtering through to make a graylight nimbus where the poles attached. It made them look like dark feathers, and it made the whole cargo look like an enormous Indian headdress.
I thought of the Crazy Horse monument they're carving in South Dakota.
Further on, hunting through a grassy margin lining Washington Boulevard, I saw a wild duck. It was a couple of blocks away from the usual Venice Canal hangout of such critters, but enthusiastic about whatever tasty bits lay in that grass.
Not my first duck of the season. Earlier in the week I saw one crossing Pacific headed towards the beach—though who knows why. To get to the other side, I suppose. The person ahead of me apparently didn't see the duck with that enormous SUV jammed up his/her ass because it barreled right on towards it without any braking whatsoever. I'm sure the driver noticed when the terrified bird flapped right across the windshield and hove off into the air—safe, no thanks to the SUV perp.