Fabulous eccentric presentation of George Melies 1910 'Journey to the Moon" film, with live quirky music and laid back narration.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Pretzel Logic
In an effort to wean myself off 'dry-roast peanut' as my evening snack of choice I purchased a bag of snack-size Pretzels in "delicious" sea-salt.
I would summarize the experience as rather like eating desiccated salty string.
FAIL
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Billy Collins - My favourite Poet
Shoveling Snow With Buddha by Billy Collins
In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok
you would never see him doing such a thing,
tossing the dry snow over a mountain
of his bare, round shoulder,
his hair tied in a knot,
a model of concentration.
Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
for what he does, or does not do.
Even the season is wrong for him.
In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
Is this not implied by his serene expression,
that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?
But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.
This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.
He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.
All morning long we work side by side,
me with my commentary
and he inside his generous pocket of silence,
until the hour is nearly noon
and the snow is piled high all around us;
then, I hear him speak.
After this, he asks,
can we go inside and play cards?
Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
while you shuffle the deck.
and our boots stand dripping by the door.
Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
and leaning for a moment on his shovel
before he drives the thin blade again
deep into the glittering white snow.
My apologies to Billy and/or his publisher for any copyright infringement.; I only want to share Billy's work with people who might not have found his poems before
you would never see him doing such a thing,
tossing the dry snow over a mountain
of his bare, round shoulder,
his hair tied in a knot,
a model of concentration.
Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
for what he does, or does not do.
Even the season is wrong for him.
In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
Is this not implied by his serene expression,
that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?
But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.
This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.
He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.
All morning long we work side by side,
me with my commentary
and he inside his generous pocket of silence,
until the hour is nearly noon
and the snow is piled high all around us;
then, I hear him speak.
After this, he asks,
can we go inside and play cards?
Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
while you shuffle the deck.
and our boots stand dripping by the door.
Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
and leaning for a moment on his shovel
before he drives the thin blade again
deep into the glittering white snow.
My apologies to Billy and/or his publisher for any copyright infringement.; I only want to share Billy's work with people who might not have found his poems before
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Green Energy for Cornwall Business
I been recently working on this film for South West Business tv and in the course of making it visited a fantastic business in Cornwall. Tredethic Farm Cottages in Cornwall have been working hard to develop their use of 'Renewables' or 'Green energy' for many years and their story is an inspiration.
For an SME in the southwest to get to a position of nearly being 100% energy self-sufficient is just amazing. Take a look at the sw business tv site and see the business and hear owner Tim Reed talking about how he has made this happen. (click the link below)
Link to swbusinesstv.com
For an SME in the southwest to get to a position of nearly being 100% energy self-sufficient is just amazing. Take a look at the sw business tv site and see the business and hear owner Tim Reed talking about how he has made this happen. (click the link below)
Link to swbusinesstv.com
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