Glass-and-Sand

Futile musings of an old ghost

Tag: bloganuary

  • Awesome North Mojave 14

    Awesome North Mojave 14

    Mojave Through the Mojave desert we drove North, feeling the first hints of a change in climate and vegetation, after Flagstaff, leaving the sacred San Francisco snow-capped mountain in the East. The air was much colder than near Tucson, even high up, with a sharp bite, the light more intense. The road engaged near a…

  • Urban Frolic Exiled to the Cloud

    Urban Frolic Exiled to the Cloud

    Urban frolic is now a thing of the past. For years I used to do shift work, and as I worked in the city, this gave me many opportunities for meetings in pubs with colleagues and friends. Those were keys to my social life. Later I extended this to keep in touch, with the same…

  • Scary 29

    Scary 29

    Nowadays I only have a slim chance to sleep through the night without waking up once. Usually, this small, scary, gap, in obscurity, unless the moon is high and not surrounded by obese clouds, is propitious to thinking about writing. In my most sober moments of reflection, what scares me most is the prospect of…

  • Scary

    Scary

    Nowadays I only have a slim chance to sleep through the night without waking up once. Usually, this small gap, in obscurity, unless the moon is high and not surrounded by obese clouds, is propitious to thinking about writing. In my most sober moments of reflection, what scares me most is the prospect of starting…

  • My fascinating girl’s eyes 27

    My fascinating girl’s eyes 27

    Eyes Looking at her green eyes, observing me, with what I take to be amusement, I am thinking: “It’s straightforward, what do you love most, the lock, the key, or the chain? Or, maybe, what do you think is the most touching? The lock because it’s never used, the key because I hold it, or…

  • My girl

    My girl

    Looking at her green eyes, observing me, with what I took to be amusement, I was thinking: “It’s straightforward, what do you love most, the lock, the key, or the chain? Or, maybe, what do you think is the most touching? The lock because it’s never used, the key because I hold it, or the…

  • Sport & Frugal Longevity 26

    Sport & Frugal Longevity 26

    Sport “I do not watch much sport”, she said, “but, as you know, I practise, or have practised, several, and some I follow. For example Judo, though much has changed since I took my first lessons in the old dojo. I paid a visit to the Kodokan once, some twenty years ago, memorable. Serious Alpinism,…

  • Longevity

    Longevity

    “I do not watch much sport”, she said, “but, as you know, I practise, or have practised, several, and some I follow. For example Judo, though much has changed since I took my first lessons in the old dojo. I paid a visit to the Kodokan once, some twenty years ago, memorable. Serious Alpinism, I…

  • Chance: An odd question 24

    Chance: An odd question 24

    “You don’t leave things to chance”, she said, “besides, you don’t, we don’t, need more than we have already.” “It’s worse than that,” he replied sternly, “this is a disaster I would not want us to suffer. What happens next is well known: harassment from all sides, unhealthy attention, blackmail, breakup of families, parasites onslaught,…

  • An odd question

    An odd question

    “You don’t leave things to chance”, she said, “besides, you don’t, we don’t, need more than we have already.” “It’s worse than that,” he replied sternly, “this is a disaster I would not want us to suffer. What happens next is well known: harassment from all sides, unhealthy attention, blackmail, breakup of families, parasites onslaught,…

  • The marksman

    The marksman

    When I walked in her winter garden, the moon was slowly disappearing behind the tall trees, and she was sitting, reading, a light steam flowing eerily from the samovar. I kissed her hand, and her forehead. I knew she woke early, prepared tea, and read. The house was surrounded by silence. “Have you made up…

  • The bright Moon and The hidden Marksman 22

    The bright Moon and The hidden Marksman 22

    Winter garden When I walked in her winter garden, the moon was slowly disappearing behind the tall trees, and she was sitting, reading, a light steam flowing eerily from the samovar. I kissed her hand, and her forehead. I knew she woke early, prepared tea, and read. The house was surrounded by silence. “Have you…