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 Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
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I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
| Opening random files in Google Docs can be interesting. One can view the version history and see how the writing changes and evolves. Then, I often edit and rewrite after I copy the item into my WDC book so that the original Docs version is different from the posted one. For instance, this poem started out being about our human sensibilities and how it was decided that lobster should no longer be on display in supermarkets in order to spare their feelings before we kill them, but the social/political angle was not the real story. The real story is the lobster's viewpoint: Indignity Mighty lobster waves ‘the crusher’ his fearsome, serrated claw antennae twitching, mouth seeking as he crawls over the confused masses. Only the tape and the glass prevent him from grasping the tongues of young children stuck out at him in disrespect. I do think that it was the lobster-eating public that felt more guilt at watching their dinner being penned up in a tank than they did at boiling it alive that caused supermarkets to put the live lobster where they can't be seen. But this has robbed a whole generation of children of this up-close encounter with what my grandson calls "sea creatures". Humans are always doing things that they claim are good and charitable but in fact, only make them feel less guilty. I don't like being stared at, it's true. It's a very uncomfortable experience. But I would prefer it to being boiled alive. |
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