Echoes in a Hollow Space

Random quote of the day:

“We are not trapped or locked up in these bones. No, no. We are free to change. And love changes us. And if we can love one another, we can break open the sky.”

―Walter Mosley, Blue Light



Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Key and Peele, Celine Dion, or Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Random quote of the day:

“Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still. Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life so. Aim above morality. Be not simply good—be good for something.”

—Henry David Thoreau, letter to Harrison Blake, March 27, 1848

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

Some months back, I was ranting about a development going up in the last remaining wetlands along this part of the Southern California coast.  A few months later, I had to retract retract my rant because I'd discovered my basic premise was, well, in a word, wrong. Ahem. 

Anyway, I was oh-so-innocently scanning Yahoo! news [broken link] the other day when I came across an article about the very development project I'd been ranting and retracting about.  It seems that during their excavation for the project, they've uncovered an...Indian burial ground.

My golly, that's almost proverbial.  What's really bad is that they've put these bones in a shed until they decide what to do with them.  Even if I had been interested in buying one of these gracious living joints at Playa Vista (even if I could afford one), this would probably queer the deal for me.  I do not need any disturbed spirits taking out their anger on me.  It's like Mark Twain said, "I do not believe in ghosts, but I am afraid of them."

Except on alternating Mondays and Sat-Sun matinees, I think I kind of do believe in ghosts.  Sometimes.  But maybe not.  But that's a whole other journal entry.  In fact, one of my first.

p.s.  On a writing note:  I know I owe a ton of crits, and I feel really guilty about that, but between crashing to get my rewrite done by the end of September (when I expect a serious disruption of my writing schedule) and being busy at work, I don't seem to have much left over except for the occasional irrelevant journal entry.  I keep setting deadlines for myself that I fail to meet and it’s really torquing my mind into uncomfortable positions—but there isn’t much I can do about that now.  I’m feeling rather forsworn, to use an old-fashioned term.  Sorry.  I'm downloading everything posted  and hope to get to everything eventually either online of through email.  But I am not setting any more deadlines for the time being.