My lunch break is not long enough.
I’m going to rant later about some past events, so you’ve been warned. I feel like if I can actually fight it out with myself, something will get fixed. I just need to let my thoughts marinate for another hour or so.
Morning Fluff: When a group of Chinese cyclists came across a stray dog sleeping in the middle of the road, they gave her a drumstick, then pushed on with their 1,000-mile ride to Tibet. But to their surprise, the homeless mutt spent the next 24 days accompanying them on their trek.
Xiao Sa, or “Little Sa,” as the cyclists named her, climbed 10 mountains over 13,000 feet high, and she ran on uphill sections where many bikers prefer to take the bus.
The journey now completed, Zhang He, the cyclist who fed her the drumstick, says she is “a buddy and a friend.” He said he “would like to take the dog home and take care of her. She has been a stray on the road for a long time. She needs a home.”
God, I love animals.
The Loch Ness Monster’s Song by Edwin Morgan.
You can hear Edwin Morgan read the poem himself here.
A note from the Museum of Hoaxes:
According to a Rice University webpage, in 1991 the poem was reprinted in 100 Poems on the Underground, and had this explanation appended to it:
“The author explained in conversation that the lonely monster rises from the loch and looks round for the companions of his youth — prehistoric reptiles — and, finding nobody he knows, he descends again to the depths after a brief swearing session. This was confirmed by a nine-year-old boy in a workshop, who said the monster was ‘looking for a diplodocus’. When asked how he knew that, he said, ‘It says so.’ It does.”
Sure enough, if you read the poem closely, you can tell that the monster is looking for a diplodocus, and does then start swearing.
Whoa. It’s uncanny.
(Source: tomywonder, via longlivethequeen)
“I don’t suppose I really know you very well - but I know you smell like the delicious damp grass that grows near old walls and that your hands are beautiful opening out of your sleeves and that the back of your head is a mossy sheltered cave when there is trouble in the wind and that my cheek just fits the depression in your shoulder.”
—Zelda Fitzgerald, in a letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald
(via longlivethequeen)
“Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should take off our clothes and paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and shows of flags and well-oiled guns.” #&8212; Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle
My feelings exactly.
(via loveyourchaos)
