Saturday, May 12, 2007

Live deeply
life is too short
take off your shoes

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

I'm learning scheme, and I came upon this wonderful chunk of code:

(define is-even?
(lambda (n)
(if (= n 0) #t
(is-odd? (- n 1)))))

(define is-odd?
(lambda (n)
(if (= n 0) #f
(is-even? (- n 1)))))

Thursday, April 12, 2007

A language that doesn’t affect the way you think about programming is not worth knowing.
– Alan Perlis

Wednesday, April 11, 2007



I was always one for being alone,
Seeking in my own way, eternal purpose;
At the edge of the field waiting for the pure moment;
Standing, silent, on sandy beaches or walking along green embankments;
Knowing the sinuousness of small waters:
As a chip or shell, floating lazily with a slow current...
-Theodore Roethke

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

The Shapes of Leaves
by Arthur Sze

Ginkgo, cottonwood, pin oak, sweet gum, tulip tree:

our emotions resemble leaves and alive

to their shapes we are nourished.



Have you felt the expanse and contours of grief

along the edges of a big Norway maple?

Have you winced at the orange flare



searing the curves of a curling dogwood?

I have seen from the air logged islands,

each with a network of branching gravel roads,



and felt a moment of pure anger, aspen gold.

I have seen sandhill cranes moving in an open field,

a single white whooping crane in the flock.



And I have traveled along the contours

of leaves that have no name. Here

where the air is wet and the light is cool,



I feel what others are thinking and do not speak,

I know pleasure in the veins of a sugar maple,

I am living at the edge of a new leaf.

Monday, April 02, 2007

teach me, stream,
to polish haiku,
before spring
sends them down the
mountain giggling


robert d. wilson

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

so you want to be a writer?
by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you

in spite of everything,

don't do it.

unless it comes unasked out of your

heart and your mind and your mouth

and your gut,

don't do it.

if you have to sit for hours

staring at your computer screen

or hunched over your

typewriter

searching for words,

don't do it.

if you're doing it for money or

fame,

don't do it.

if you're doing it because you want

women in your bed,

don't do it.

if you have to sit there and

rewrite it again and again,

don't do it.

if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,

don't do it.

if you're trying to write like somebody

else,

forget about it.





if you have to wait for it to roar out of

you,

then wait patiently.

if it never does roar out of you,

do something else.



if you first have to read it to your wife

or your girlfriend or your boyfriend

or your parents or to anybody at all,

you're not ready.



don't be like so many writers,

don't be like so many thousands of

people who call themselves writers,

don't be dull and boring and

pretentious, don't be consumed with self-

love.

the libraries of the world have

yawned themselves to

sleep

over your kind.

don't add to that.

don't do it.

unless it comes out of

your soul like a rocket,

unless being still would

drive you to madness or

suicide or murder,

don't do it.

unless the sun inside you is

burning your gut,

don't do it.



when it is truly time,

and if you have been chosen,

it will do it by

itself and it will keep on doing it

until you die or it dies in you.



there is no other way.



and there never was.