By Ernest Hemingway
A porcupine skin,
Stiff with bad tanning,
It must have ended somewhere.
Stuffed horned owl
Pompous
Yellow eyed;
Chuck-wills-widow on a biassed twig
Sooted with dust.
Piles of old magazines,
Drawers of boy’s letters
And the line of love
They must have ended somewhere.
Yesterday's Tribune is gone
Along with youth
And the canoe that went to pieces on the beach
The year of the big storm
When the hotel burned down
At Seney, Michigan.
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I have spent the evening at Winston Churchill High School for Blast 23, the annual musical revue, whose theme this year was "Believe" which means that the songs included everything from "You Can Do Magic" and "Teach Your Children" to "Born This Way" and the post-Glee inevitable "Don't Stop Believin'." It was enormous fun, had excellent singing and terrific lighting, and Adam (who was on the tech crew along with several of his friends, some of whom were also in the show) had a great time. He's the one doing "Steve Holt" arms in the photo below:
Otherwise all that is worth reporting from my day is that it was a gorgeous afternoon for a walk in the woods and I even saw a chipmunk, though I thought they were hibernating -- the one that was on our deck all summer hasn't put in an appearance in a couple of weeks -- and I posted a review of Deep Space Nine's "The Passenger", which is pretty forgettable unless you're dying to see Julie Caitlin Brown whom I've liked in everything I've seen her in. Have a great weekend!
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