By Greg Delanty
I’m back again scrutinizing the Milky Way
of your ultrasound, scanning the dark
matter, the nothingness, that now the heads say
is chockablock with quarks & squarks,
gravitons & gravitini, photons & photinos. Our sprout,
who art there inside the spacecraft
of your Ma, the time capsule of this printout,
hurling & whirling towards us, it’s all daft
on this earth. Our alien who art in the heavens,
our Martian, our little green man, we’re anxious
to make contact, to ask divers questions
about the heavendom you hail from, to discuss
the whole shebang of the beginning&end,
the pre-big bang untime before you forget the why
and lie of thy first place. And, our friend,
to say Welcome, that we mean no harm, we’d die
for you even, that we pray you’re not here
to subdue us, that we’d put away
our ray guns, missiles, attitude and share
our world with you, little big head, if only you stay.
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The air was actually breathable on Wednesday! And now it's pouring, which will hopefully keep things cooler for Thursday, and apparently we may spend Father's Day having the remnants of Tropical Storm Bill pouring on us some more. I went out driving with Daniel, ending up at the mall, where we got gas and Father's Day cards, plus had lunch (he had a sandwich, I had samosa chaat). It took us more than half an hour to drive home because there was a big car accident at the only major intersection on the way.
Adam is recovered from the flu and brought his girlfriend home to study math for a while before dinner. After we ate, those of us without calculus homework (plus Cheryl long distance) watched Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It's definitely as silly as Temple of Doom, but Cate and Karen make it a lot more fun to watch, and I even like Shia LaBeouf in this movie. Here are some of the props and costumes from National Geographic's Indiana Jones exhibit:
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