Sunday, December 29, 2013

Travel is a. . .

There's an image circulating on the Facebook lately:

Why should this rub me the wrong way? Huh. Is it schmaltzy? Oh, yes, drippingly. But I would very much prefer that "TRAVEL" were scribbled out and replaced with "TOURISM," which is most likely what these palefaces in paradise are actually doing. Let's be honest with ourselves, hm?

Anyway, I've just synthesized an antidote by mixing Ralph Waldo Emerson with Petey from Cul de Sac.

(Says the American writing from Poland. Eeyup.)


  1. Emerson had the amazing ability to make every single line he ever wrote be worthy of sticking on a magnet or the epigraph of a book. I could read his stuff and be amazed for hours at a time. Hope you're enjoying Poland.

    1. Indeed! I'm going to be moving in a couple of weeks; when I set up at my new destination, I intend to have my copy of Essays sitting beside my computer at my desk. There is no reason I shouldn't be flipping through it more often.

  2. Hey! Happy poetry month!

    "A Song About Myself"
    John Keats


    There was a naughty Boy,
    And a naughty Boy was he,
    He ran away to Scotland
    The people for to see--
    Then he found
    That the ground
    Was as hard,
    That a yard
    Was as long,
    That a song
    Was as merry,
    That a cherry
    Was as red--
    That lead
    Was as weighty
    That fourscore
    Was as eighty,
    That a door
    Was as wooden
    As in England--

    So he stood in his shoes
    And he wonder'd,
    He wonder'd,
    He stood in his
    Shoes and he wonder'd.