Friday, January 13, 2017

Poem for Friday and Funeral Flowers

Faith Poem
By Walt Whitman

I need no assurances—I am a man who is
    pre-occupied of his own soul;
I do not doubt that whatever I know at a given
    time, there waits for me more which I do not
I do not doubt that from under the feet, and beside
    the hands and face I am cognizant of, are
    now looking faces I am not cognizant of —
    calm and actual faces;
I do not doubt but the majesty and beauty of the
    world is latent in any iota of the world;
I do not doubt there are realizations I have
    no idea of, waiting for me through time
    and through the universes—also upon this
I do not doubt I am limitless, and that the uni-
    verses are limitless—in vain I try to think
    how limitless;
I do not doubt that the orbs, and the systems of
    orbs, play their swift sports through the air


2017 is apparently going to be a year of small compensations for huge upheavals, much like 2016. Today it was a morning email telling me that this week's Voyager retro review would be my last, due to major changes at TrekToday. I've written reviews for TrekToday since cut its staffers lose more than 15 years ago, so a significant portion of my life. This isn't a big deal compared to Paul's job being sent to India next month, but it's yet another shitty thing in months of pure crap.

Otherwise, my day was pretty good; I had lunch at Tara Thai with Karen and Angela while Maddy did some shopping, and by the time we got home, my new laptop had arrived, so I spent the rest of the afternoon configuring it (Photoshop on, bloatware off, and guess what, the version of Microsoft Word that came with Works 2002 can be made to work with Windows 10 as long as you have a valid user key). In the evening we watched some ninth season Bones. Chrysanthemums from Brookside in the fall:

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