Without Lifting A Finger

Let’s put it this way. A man meets an alien. How does each figure out that the other is intelligent?” “No idea,” Valentine said merrily. “All I’ve read on the subject reduces to a vicious circle. If they are capable of contact, then they are intelligent. And conversely, if they are intelligent, then they are capable of contact. And in general: if an alien creature has the honor of being psychologically human, then it’s intelligent. That’s how it is, Richard. Read Vonnegut?”

One shot (two versions): early morning: Eurasian Blue Tit. On the outskirts of Kazimierz Dolny, Poland. #rlswihart13 #kazimierzdolny #poland #titsofeurope #titsofinstagram #bluetit #nature #poetry #beauty #readmorepoetry2022 #ukraine 🇺🇦

After he said good-bye to the Madam and shook Benny’s hand, Noonan drove straight to the Borscht. The problem is we don’t notice the years pass, he thought. Screw the years—we don’t notice things change. We know that things change, we’ve been told since childhood that things change, we’ve witnessed things change ourselves many a time, and yet we’re still utterly incapable of noticing the moment that change comes—or we search for change in all the wrong places.

Little Blue Heron (Lifer) @ Bolsa Chica. Saw it on ebird and I had to try. Saw at least three reddish egrets (similar but bigger with a redder "mane"), including an immature (hardly any mane). Had to post (in case you want to give it a go), but I'm back from Poland now so I'll be flip-flopping a bit: Poland/SCal. Go Blue & TGIF!!!🌞 #rlswihart13 #southerncalifornia #bolsachica #bolsa #heronsofinstagram #littleblueheron #nature #poetry #beauty #tgif #goblue #readmorepoetry2022

Rewatched Tarkovsky's Stalker first (found it free on Hulu or somewhere), so I could feel the difference: both great. Excerpt from the book: I come over to them with my glass. Gutalin grabs me by the coat, sits me down at their table, and says, “Sit down, Red! Sit down, servant of Satan! I love you. Let us weep over the sins of humanity—weep in despair!” “Let us weep,” I say. “Swallow the tears of sin.” “Because the day is nigh,” proclaims Gutalin. “Because the pale horse has been saddled, and the rider has put a foot in the stirrup. And futile are the prayers of the worshippers of Satan. And only those who renounce him shall be saved. Thou, of human flesh, whom Satan has seduced, who play with his toys and covet his treasures—I tell thee, thou art blind! Awake, fools, before it’s too late! Stamp on the devil’s baubles!” Here he comes to an abrupt halt, as if forgetting what’s next. “Can I get a drink in this place?” he asks in a different voice. “Where am I? You know, Red, I got f