I’ve been cleaning out a bunch of stuff I’ve had stored away in boxes
for years. It’s always a bittersweet thing. I try hard not to
reminisce, but you know something as innocuous as an old receipt, or a
concert program can drag you back in time and have you living past lives
all over again.

I found this amazing little dinosaur book from my
childhood. It has the most distinctive illustrations that are probably
too terrifying for the age range it was marketed for.  The dinosaurs are
all have the color and texture of raw meat, and the rendering is
beautifully done in crosshatched colored pencil.

This image stuck
with me as a child. I like to imagine the original art was a lot more
gory, and after several rounds of cat and mouse with the publisher the
artist shrugged, muttered “fine”, and drew in two little scrapes to make
them happy.

I was just goaded into standing on stage with a borrowed, slightly out of tune baritone guitar to do my best White Christmas in full-on Bing Crosby mode and it wasn’t captured on any recording device. 

You folks don’t know what you’re missing.

Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.

Margaret Atwood
(via whutsherbutt)