The past is not dead. In fact, it's not even past.
William Faulkner
Wednesday, 30 April 2008
Sunday, 27 April 2008
This and That
The clear Ferragamo sunglasses work equally well on a formally and casually dressed fellow.
Saturday, 26 April 2008
The Best Of
Renaissance Man is featured in the Toronto Life Magazine Best 600 stores of Toronto!
The little write-up says some lovely things about the shop and it makes me proud.
I hope it brings good luck and prosperity.
To read it go here:
http://www.torontolife.com/guide/fashion/for-men-work/renaissance-man/
The little write-up says some lovely things about the shop and it makes me proud.
I hope it brings good luck and prosperity.
To read it go here:
http://www.torontolife.com/guide/fashion/for-men-work/renaissance-man/
Sunday, 20 April 2008
Buy it here!
This fabulous pleather jacket must be just the thing for someone special. Get it here, at Renaissance Man.
Saturday
It's passover, and I hosted 17 people for dinner so I had to close today and do things around the house. and these are the wonderful friends and family who came to be with us. Great company, excellent food, and one very sick cat (not in the picture).
Saturday, 5 April 2008
Two poems
I've discovered this blog of weekly poems today (as per my reading
drought), and here are 2 that I like. Check the site list below if you
want to visit there yourself.
Valentine for Ernest Mann by Naomi Shihab Nye
You can't order a poem like you order a taco.
Walk up to the counter, say, "I'll take two"
and expect it to be handed back to you
on a shiny plate.
Still, I like your spirit.
Anyone who says, "Here's my address,
write me a poem," deserves something in reply.
So I'll tell you a secret instead:
poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes,
they are sleeping. They are the shadows
drifting across our ceilings the moment
before we wake up. What we have to do
is live in a way that lets us find them.
Once I knew a man who gave his wife
two skunks for a valentine.
He couldn't understand why she was crying.
"I thought they had such beautiful eyes."
And he was serious. He was a serious man
who lived in a serious way. Nothing was ugly
just because the world said so. He really
liked those skunks. So, he re-invented them
as valentines and they became beautiful.
At least, to him. And the poems that had been hiding
in the eyes of skunks for centuries
crawled out and curled up at his feet.
Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us
we find poems. Check your garage, the odd sock
in your drawer, the person you almost like, but not quite.
And let me know.
**********
A Drinking Song by William Butler Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
drought), and here are 2 that I like. Check the site list below if you
want to visit there yourself.
Valentine for Ernest Mann by Naomi Shihab Nye
You can't order a poem like you order a taco.
Walk up to the counter, say, "I'll take two"
and expect it to be handed back to you
on a shiny plate.
Still, I like your spirit.
Anyone who says, "Here's my address,
write me a poem," deserves something in reply.
So I'll tell you a secret instead:
poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes,
they are sleeping. They are the shadows
drifting across our ceilings the moment
before we wake up. What we have to do
is live in a way that lets us find them.
Once I knew a man who gave his wife
two skunks for a valentine.
He couldn't understand why she was crying.
"I thought they had such beautiful eyes."
And he was serious. He was a serious man
who lived in a serious way. Nothing was ugly
just because the world said so. He really
liked those skunks. So, he re-invented them
as valentines and they became beautiful.
At least, to him. And the poems that had been hiding
in the eyes of skunks for centuries
crawled out and curled up at his feet.
Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us
we find poems. Check your garage, the odd sock
in your drawer, the person you almost like, but not quite.
And let me know.
**********
A Drinking Song by William Butler Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
Friday, 4 April 2008
Reading corner
I'm experiencing a dry reading season this week. My book pile has been
reduced to old things I've tried before and rejected, and guess what -
I still reject them. One I tried this week, an anthology of British
short stories (I don't like short stories, they tend to be bleak) was
so depressing, it made me not want to go to England ever again and meet the miserable people that occupied those pages.
So I'm pacing the floor (very small space), restless, book less,
and that is not a good state of mind to be in. All kinds of thoughts
bubble up undisturbed. Thankfully, my regular visitors come to talk and
shop a little and distract me from myself.
If you have a great book to recommend, please send a comment. I'm desperate for good, kind, interesting, transporting words.
reduced to old things I've tried before and rejected, and guess what -
I still reject them. One I tried this week, an anthology of British
short stories (I don't like short stories, they tend to be bleak) was
so depressing, it made me not want to go to England ever again and meet the miserable people that occupied those pages.
So I'm pacing the floor (very small space), restless, book less,
and that is not a good state of mind to be in. All kinds of thoughts
bubble up undisturbed. Thankfully, my regular visitors come to talk and
shop a little and distract me from myself.
If you have a great book to recommend, please send a comment. I'm desperate for good, kind, interesting, transporting words.
Thursday, 3 April 2008
Spring, sweet spring
The size of the snow mountain that occupied the
front of my window had shrunk considerably. Today there is only a dirty
little puddle of ice to remind us that we still have some time before
we can shed more layers.
What my man is wearing over his left shoulder that's hard to see in the picture is a grey, full length Hugo Boss light wool trench coat.
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