Loss
Friday, June 15th, 2012Once in a while we put a lot of effort into not making anything. It’s an exercise in loss.
Once in a while we put a lot of effort into not making anything. It’s an exercise in loss.
When I tell you how to get food ready for eating, I won’t use just a cold mathematical formula to help you put it on your table. I’ll be telling you how to prepare it like a man who’s talking to you right over your kitchen stove.
When I went to high school I had a teacher, in the arts, who was head of the department of Central High, William Grey, and he gave a course in Architecture, the only course in any high school I am sure, in Greek, Roman, Renaissance, Egyptian, and Gothic Architecture, and at that point two of my colleagues and myself realized that only Architecture was to be my life. How accidental our existences are, really, and how full of influence by circumstance.
He called her later that day, catching her just before she went to bed. “Good night my love,” he said. “I look forward to sleeping next to you again.” She would use the exact same words at his funeral, 11 days later.
I admire machinery as much as any man, and am as thankful to it as any man can be for what it does for us. But, it will never be a substitute for the face of a man, with his soul in it, encouraging another man to be brave and true.
Charles Dickens
[…] until the wise among men have again become happy in their folly and the poor happy in their wealth.
At 2.22pm, he texted 999 notifying the emergency services of his location and his intention to commit suicide. He received an automated response, which read: “You texted 999. No emergency service has been alerted. You must be registered to use this service.”
Scorpio: “By the way, Homer. Which is your least favourite country? Italy or France”?
Homer: “…France”
Scorpio: “Nobody ever says Italy…”
When I recorded a voicemail greeting for my phone I made several attempts – in the end I settled for a message that consisted of 12 words and eight “biscuits”.