Once again, I can't help but to comment on what a beautiful day it is. The worst part about living in Florida is that we don't really have seasons here. Deciduous trees aren't a-plenty, and the ones there are don't change much during the year. New England can't help but notice when Fall arrives; for us, we aren't even aware it happened until someone tells us it did, usually sometime in january.
BUT,,,
We have a lot of days like this. Full on specular sunlight, green grass everywhere, and being a block from the St Johns River, this view is pretty rad. We also get rain while the sun is shining. The only place I've ever been and seen that happen. Not little showers, but straight up RAIN...Big, solid, cold rain in full sunlight. I like that. But we don't get seasons. Not clearly defined ones at least.
I was in South Korea when spring hit in 1995; it was the most amazing change of seasons I'd ever seen. The place went from the barren brown and grey soul-sucking scenery of a Korean Winter to a lush green landscape over a single weekend. If it weren't for the landmarks, I would have sworn it was a different place, entirely.
I just sent a postcard to a girl I know in Turkey and am happy about that. (she got the State Dept gig I applied for) I don't know why but I like the idea of mail, of letters...correspondence in general. Packages and words that come from somewhere else and arrive there where you are. Someone writes a letter and hands it to someone who passes it along to someone else, who does the same, and again and again, until finally it arrives where it was intended. I like endeavors carried out through mail... correspondence chess is interesting to me. these games that take a year to play sometimes... a group of strangers from Uzbekistan sending a postcard to London with a symbol of a Knight and the square "d4"... the end result of these guys going over countless variations and determining what they collectively think is the best move for their plan weighed against the potential plans of their opponents. And then waiting for the response. The tension of waiting. All the while, all these cards just keep getting passed along, hand to hand, person to person, bag to bag, truck to truck, place to place. Mixed in with all the shit and soul-less advertisements, the bills and muck that dominates it these days. I just dig me the hell outta the potential of mail.
who is the last *Person* you sent something to?
BUT,,,
We have a lot of days like this. Full on specular sunlight, green grass everywhere, and being a block from the St Johns River, this view is pretty rad. We also get rain while the sun is shining. The only place I've ever been and seen that happen. Not little showers, but straight up RAIN...Big, solid, cold rain in full sunlight. I like that. But we don't get seasons. Not clearly defined ones at least.
I was in South Korea when spring hit in 1995; it was the most amazing change of seasons I'd ever seen. The place went from the barren brown and grey soul-sucking scenery of a Korean Winter to a lush green landscape over a single weekend. If it weren't for the landmarks, I would have sworn it was a different place, entirely.
I just sent a postcard to a girl I know in Turkey and am happy about that. (she got the State Dept gig I applied for) I don't know why but I like the idea of mail, of letters...correspondence in general. Packages and words that come from somewhere else and arrive there where you are. Someone writes a letter and hands it to someone who passes it along to someone else, who does the same, and again and again, until finally it arrives where it was intended. I like endeavors carried out through mail... correspondence chess is interesting to me. these games that take a year to play sometimes... a group of strangers from Uzbekistan sending a postcard to London with a symbol of a Knight and the square "d4"... the end result of these guys going over countless variations and determining what they collectively think is the best move for their plan weighed against the potential plans of their opponents. And then waiting for the response. The tension of waiting. All the while, all these cards just keep getting passed along, hand to hand, person to person, bag to bag, truck to truck, place to place. Mixed in with all the shit and soul-less advertisements, the bills and muck that dominates it these days. I just dig me the hell outta the potential of mail.
who is the last *Person* you sent something to?