41 (mostly) weekly posts


8 badgers

~450 total shares.

The Year in Review:

2014.11.23: The Knowledge, London’s Legendary Taxi-Driver Test, Puts Up a Fight in the Age of GPS (rp galen op)

2014.12.21: My Vassar College Faculty ID Makes Everything OK - Gawker

2014.12.28: When the Sky Explained Everything - Nautilus

2015.01.11: The Wreck of the Kulluk - The New York Times / Deca

2015.01.18: Our Hottest Year, Our Cold Indifference - The New Yorker

2015.01.25: The Library of Babel - J. Borges


A Letter in October

Ted Kooser

  Dawn comes later and later now,   

and I, who only a month ago

could sit with coffee every morning

watching the light walk down the hill

to the edge of the pond and place

a doe there, shyly drinking,

  then see the light step out upon   

the water, sowing reflections

to either side—a garden

of trees that grew as if by magic—

now see no more than my face,

mirrored by darkness, pale and odd,

  startled by time. While I slept,   

night in its thick winter jacket

bridled the doe with a twist

of wet leaves and led her away,

then brought its black horse with harness

that creaked like a cricket, and turned

  the water garden under. I woke,   

and at the waiting window found

the curtains open to my open face;

beyond me, darkness. And I,

who only wished to keep looking out,

must now keep looking in.

2015.05.17: The Data That Threatened to Break Physics - Nautilus

2015.05.31: Wave Goodbye: Following John Muir's footsteps through California's high country - Postcard, Harper's Magazine

2015.06.07: To Save California, Read Dune - Nautilus

2015.09.06: The Most Northern Place - the story of Thule, Greenland {hubski discussion}

2015.09.27: The Arc of the Sun: Chasing history in the great South African Pigeon Race - Atavist

2015.10.04: The plot against student newspapers - The Atlantic

2015.10.18: A Brief History of the End of the Comments - WIRED{hubski link insomniasexx}


    The Mockingbird

by Mary Oliver

    All summer

the mockingbird

in his pearl-gray coat

and his white-windowed sings


from the hedge to the top of the pine

and begins to sing, but it’s neither

lilting nor lovely,

    for he is the thief of other sound–

whistles and truck brakes and dry hinges

plus all the songs

of other birds in his neighborhood;

    mimicking and elaborating,

he sings with humbor and bravado,

so I have to wait a long time

for the softer voice of his own life

    to come through.  He begins

by giving up all his usual flutter

and settling down on the pine’s forelock

then looking around

    as though to make sure he’s alone;

then he slaps each wing against his breast,

where his heart is,

and copying nothing, begins

    easing into it

as though it was not half so easy

as rollicking,

as though his subject now

    was his true self,

which of course was as dark and secret

as anyone else’s,

and it was too hard–

    perhaps you understand–

to speak or to sing it

to anything or anyone

but the sky.

Here’s to another year! Thanks for stopping by.


Thanks for putting this together every week, it is an awesome way to find things that I've missed.

posted by demure: 1171 days ago