Showing posts with label just one sentence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just one sentence. Show all posts

September 7, 2015

Views from the bridge.


Over this three-day Labor Day weekend, I walked each morning to the Kensington Parkway bridge over Rock Creek, with a telephoto zoom lens on a full-frame digital SLR.


Saturday morning:
























Sunday morning:



















Monday morning: 


















































(click any image for full-screen)

August 24, 2015

Not once but twice last week...


Not once but twice last week, in the early evening, I suddenly saw a beaver swimming towards me; by the time I could retrieve my camera, all I could capture was the back of the beaver's head, moving away...



December 6, 2014

"... the essence of the thing ..."


"To become some other thing, you have to not be that thing in the first place, and, if you are that thing, then it is hard for you to really believe that anyone else can become it, since the essence of the thing is having been it all along."

-from The View from a Bridge by Adam Gopnik in this week's issue of the New Yorker.

August 7, 2014

"... you often saw them lying open on the sofa…"


"Their house had real hardcover books in it, and you often saw them lying open on the sofa, the words still warm from being read."

-from "Loggerheads" by David Sedaris, from his 2013 collection "Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls: Essays, Etc."

March 25, 2014

"As far as I could tell, I didn't mind…"


"As far as I could tell, I didn't mind the way the date turned out, though I started crying the next day in my car on the way to the drive-in bank."

- from "The Professor" by Lydia Davis.

March 23, 2014

"…the pictures come to you one by one and you look at them, some of them last longer than others…"


"I'm beginning to lose it, you're afraid of how weak you are, that you can't get her all back into you again and now the whole thing is going out of your body and it's more in your mind than your body, the pictures come to you one by one and you look at them, some of them last longer than others, you were together in a very white clean place, a coffee house, having breakfast together, and the place is so white that against it you can see her clearly, her blue eyes, her smile the colors of her clothes, even the print of the newspaper she's reading when she's not looking up at you, the light brown and red and gold of her hair when she's got her had down reading, the brown coffee, the brown rolls, all against that white table and those white plates and silver urns and silver knives and spoons, and against that quiet of the sleepy people in that room sitting alone at their tables with just come chinking and clattering off spoons and cups in saucers and some hushed voices her voice now and then rising and falling."

-from "Break It Down" by Lydia Davis.

March 22, 2014

"…her eyes seemed to her to be wide open behind the closed lids…"


"She thought about the opening and closing of her eyes: that the lids lifted to reveal a scene in all its depth and light and dark that had been there all along unseen by her, nothing to her since she did not see it, and then dropped again and made all that scene unseen again, and could anytime lift and show it and anytime close and hide it, though often, lying sleepless, her eye shut, she was so alert, so racing ahead with what she was thinking, that her eyes seemed to her to be wide open behind the closed lids, bugged, glassy, staring, though staring out only into the dark back of the closed lids."

-from "Liminal: The Little Man" by Lydia Davis.


December 22, 2013

"The matter of the dog."


In the novel Watt, by Samuel Beckett, Mr. Watt works in the home of Mr. Knott. Mr. Knott is served lunch and dinner daily, and whatever is left over from those meals is eaten every night by a dog. Mr. Watt considers, at length, how such an arrangement might have been arrived at, reviewing and rejecting various possibilities. He then presents his understanding of the current arrangement, in a single sentence (found on pages 78 through 80 of the Grove Press edition):

"Passing on then to the solution that seemed to have prevailed, Watt found it to be roughly this, that a suitable local dogowner, that is to say a needy man with a famished dog, should be sought out, and on him settled a handsome annuity of fifty pounds payable monthly, in consideration of his calling at Mr. Knott's house every evening between eight and ten, accompanied by his dog in a famished condition, and on those days on which there was food for his dog of his standing over his dog, with a stick, before witnesses, until the dog had eaten all the food until not an atom remained, and of his then taking himself and his dog off the premises without delay; and that a younger famished dog should by this man at Mr. Knott's expense be acquired and held in reserve, against the day when the first famished dog should die, and that then again another famished dog should in the same way be procured and held in readiness, against the inevitable hour when the second famished dog should pay nature's debt, and so on indefinitely, there being thus two famished dogs always available, the one to eat the food left over by Mr. Knott in the manner described until it died, and the other then for as long as it lived to do the same, and so on indefinitely; and further that a similar young local but dogless man should be sought out, against the day when the first local man should die, to take over and exploit, in the same way and on the same terms, the two surviving famished dogs thus left without a master, and without a home; and that then again another young local dogless man should in the same way be secured, against the dread hour of the second local man's dissolution, and so on indefinitely, there being thus two famished dogs and two needy local men for ever available, the first needy local man to own and exploit the two famished dogs in the manner described as long as he lived, and the other then, as long as he drew breath, to do the same, and so on indefinitely; and that lest, as might very well happen, one of the two famished dogs, or both the famished dogs, should fail to survive their master, and follow him at once to the grave, a third, a fourth, a fifth and even a sixth famished dog should be acquired and suitably maintained at Mr. Knott's expense in some convenient place in a famished condition, or that better still there should be at Mr. Knott's expense on some favorable site established a kennel or colony of famished dogs from which at any time a well-bred well-trained famished dog could be withdrawn and set to work, in the manner described; and that on the off chance of the second poor young local man's passing over, into the beyond, at the same time as the first poor local man, or even before, and stranger things are of hourly occurrence, a third, a fourth, a fifth and even a sixth poor young local dogless man or even woman should be sought out and by fair words and occasional gifts of money and old clothes as far as possible be secured to Mr. Knott's service eventually in the manner described, or better still that a suitable large needy local family of say the two parents and from ten to fifteen children and grandchildren passionately attached to their birth-place should be sought out, and by a handsome small initial lump sum to be paid down and by a liberal annual pension of fifty pounds to be paid monthly and by occasional seasonable gifts of loose change and tight clothes and by untiring well-timed affectionate words of advice and encouragement and consolation, attached firmly tor good and all in block, their children and their children's children, to Mr. Knott's service, in all matters touching this matter of the dog required to eat the food that Mr. Knott left, and exclusively in these, and that to their care the kennel or colony of famished dogs set up by Mr. Knott in order that there should never be wanting a famished dog to eat his food on those days that he did not eat it himself should be once and for all handed over, for the matter of the kennel was one that touched the matter of the dog."

December 21, 2013

(It's no wonder that camera sales are falling.)


On a recent visit to south Florida, I took some iPhone snapshots of waterbirds (and their reflections):

White Ibis.

Limpkin.

Tricolored Heron.

(Click any image for full-screen.)

December 20, 2013

Perhaps something.


"To be together again, after so long, who love the sunny wind, the windy sun, in the sun, in the wind, that is perhaps something, perhaps something."

-From Watt by Samuel Beckett (p. 133 of the Grove Press edition).

November 9, 2013

"C480782"


I shared on Facebook photographs of Weston model 301 milliammeter number 480782, made in Newark, NJ; acquired by the MIT Department of Electrical Engineering; surplussed by the MIT Department of Physics. Check it out.


October 26, 2013

"He's silent, wherever he is." [On metaphorical terrain.]


"By now one more American sheep the shepherds have temporarily lost track of, somewhere in the high country above this ruinous hour, cragfast* in the storm."

-From page 402 of "Bleeding Edge" by Thomas Pynchon.

______
*From the Oxford English Dictionary:




October 22, 2013

"She finds herself gazing out the window." [Towards the Deseret, a (fictional) apartment house.]


"She squints past roofline contours, vents, skylights, water tanks and cornices under this pre-storm lighting, shining as if already wet against the darkening sky, down the street to where the cursed Deseret rears above Broadway, one or two storm-nervous lights already on, its stonework at this distance seeming too uncleansable, its shadows too many, ever to breach."

-Just one sentence (the prior one provides this post's title) from page 199 of "Bleeding Edge" by Thomas Pynchon.

September 16, 2013

"How impressive you find modern pop Bumpology depends in part on whether you believe that there are a lot of people who still think like that."


"In the same way, even the neuro-skeptics seem to agree that modern Bumpology remains an important corrective to radical anti-Bumpology: to the kind of thinking that insists that brains don’t count at all and cultures construct everything; that, given the right circumstances, there could be a human group with six or seven distinct genders, each with its own sexuality; that there is a possible human society in which very old people would be regarded as attractive and nubile eighteen-year-olds not; and still another where adolescent children would be noted for their rigorous desire to finish recently commenced tasks."

-from "Mindless: The New Neuro-Skeptics" by Adam Gopnik in the September 9th issue of the New Yorker.

August 27, 2013

So that's how they do it!


"The building almost seemed to glow from somewhere deep within its base, as if lit by a big pile of burning money."

-from the article "Idealized or Caricature, Architectural Renderings Are Weapons in Real Estate" by Elizabeth A. Harris in today's New York Times.

August 4, 2013

Free-Boaters!


When I saw Wilco open for Bob Dylan at Duluth's Bayfront Park last month, these folks heard the concert without having to buy a ticket:

(click image for full-screen)

August 2, 2013

Pretty much the last thing I expected to hear about a Wagner opera at Bayreuth.


"... for no clear reasons, singers smear one another with crude oil."

- from "At Bayreuth, Boos and Dropped Jaws" by Anthony Tommasini in today's New York Times.

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