can you imagine a time when the truth ran free?

"What though the radiance that was once so bright, be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind."

--William Wordsworth

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I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone;
[...]For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known,-- cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honor'd of them all

--Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson

One of my luggage is somewhere lost in JFK, probably being very lonely on an empty carousel that will keep spinning for the rest of the day. I was also yelled at by a very nice cab driver, who called me a few choice words before leaving me with a lungful of exhaust. And there is my lovely landlord, an elderly lady who hit me with an umbrella before realizing I was actually a resident in her building. There's four inches of dust on everything in my apartment, I'm afraid my co-worker's son has killed my fish, and I don't quite remember why I only have one sock on.

It's nice to be welcomed back to this city. Los Angeles certainly doesn't hold a candle to it.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

--Do not stand at my grave and weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye.

Work has been busy, like always, but with one of the other technicians on maternity leave, I'm usually the one left to pick up her graveyard shift. It is not all the different from working during the day, I suppose, but it is quieter. And the moon did shine nicely the other night.

I'm really not sure what else to write here. Waiting on DNA results can drive a person to write in internet journals, I guess.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

--The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.

One of my favorite poems.