got its own parody episode of the 90s postmodern horror genre in 1998. Oh this also happened to be the first episode of the show I ever watched in elementary school. [JC: Whereas I was in my late teens at this point, and had probably quit watching BMW by the ...
The shrill cicadas, people of the pine, Making their summer lives one ceaseless song, Were the sole echoes, save my steed's and mine, And vesper bell's that rose the boughs along; The spectre huntsman of Onesti's line, His hell-dogs, and their chase, and the fair throng Whi...
I emphasized only the danger of their Siren song, which I represented as a distraction from true philosophy. But Bruce Gottfried has a better story, in his article 'Pan, the Cicadas, and Plato's Use of Myth in the Phaedrus '. The cicadas' example of divine inspiration is positive. Its ...
I have my own commemoration, first enacted when there were still some veterans of the Great War living. Every year on the morning of November 11, I read poetry from the Great War or accounts from the soldiers. I listen to a playlist ranging from Arthur Fields singing “Over There” to t...
The Weird Al song "Bob" was exclusively constructed of these. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/palindrome (this link has popups, but it also has the correct definition). Pi makes the world go round. scherbchen well that can´t be good Joined Aug 1, 2006 Messages 3,530 Feb 20...
On many summer afternoons, away from freeway traffic and sirens, you can hear cicadas droning or cottonwood leaves rattling in a slow breeze sounding like bacon frying on a Sunday morning and the neighbor’s lawn sprinkler spitting darts of water phtt..phtt..phtt. Children playing outside ...
A murky haze settled into the hollow as cicadas thrummed from their perches among the layered canopy. Sunlight dappled the moist, fern-covered ground; I stepped carefully, eyeing my prize: a cluster of chanterelles peeking through the dense leaf litter. ...
Don’tironyour ideas so flat that they sound like cicadas humming somewhere in Kansas! Damn! I don’t even know if they’ve got cicadas in Kansas–but you get my point, right? Go forTA-DAinstead ofHMMMMM–more people will listen, and that’s half the battle!
Is it the heat in August, or the midday cicadas—grinding, grinding, grinding—that reminds me of the time of year? The horizon, corn pollen and gravel dust, is smudged. This is the first August I can ever remember going outside after lunch to find it refreshing instead of repressing....
In the silence birdsong is a cacophony – the flap of the crow’s wing audible for the first time away from man’s noises, engines and anger. As night fell on the day we arrived I heard mewling kittens cry a notch louder than the cicadas singing the last of their summer song in the...