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Ah, remember when....?

So a week or two ago I was reading about Boeing's plans to get in on the commercial space tourism racket. You see, I'm one of those dorks who prays to the gods of the internets & cosmos & such that something like hyperspace/ftl travel could be possible within my own lifetime. Yeah, little known secret...and such a bloody long shot, by far, that I'll ever get to see another solar system in this lifetime....but.......

This isn't such a bad compromise, I guess. Even some space travel is better than none. Even just the possibility. It's almost like science fiction beginning to come to life before my eyes. Fantasies fulfilled, even.

It all gets me really really excited, and always has. Like, does anyone else remember the X Prize from a few years back? (Or who won it? or how lulzy it was that the $10mil prize didn't even cover the $25mil that went into developing the winning project? lulz indeed.) That whole thing had me totally jazzed for a while--and reading this article (the interesting bits at the beginning more than the technical shit at the end...) brought back those memories and feelings.

That incurable hopefulness.

All that business about moonbases or travel to Mars and what have you. Even as just a distant glimmer, it warms my heart some. It might actually happen. For all my cynicism and sarcasm, I can still get lit up by "mights" and "could bes" now and then.

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This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.  (Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide.)

The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous flowers herse…

Losing Doolittle.

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Anthony and I both got the week before NYC Pride off this year, so I contrived to get us a little time there. The cousins who own Greenshore gave Anthony and me permission to relax there for several days rather than just the 1 or 2 I had expected. Good god, I'm grateful for that.

I missed this place. Standing on the balcony, the porch, or the dock and looking out over the lake, I was reminded of the beauty and tranquility this lake represents for me. The meaning and memories, too.

This was always a place of solace and stability for me. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but we always came back to this place. It had been in our family for generations before I was even born—if we'd been able to keep it, it would have been a solid 4 generations including mine. This was where I figured out I w…

Gardenzia carnivorus.

I recently got back into horticulture after a bad moment of burnout, and wouldn't ya know it, I'm back at it with carnivorous plants! Despite tweeting about it endlessly, I haven't actually explained how or why this started.

Back in middle school, I helped my science teacher set up a carnivorous plant display. Nothing elaborate, mind you; a terrarium with a bunch of sphagnum moss and some pitcher plants, a sundew or two, maybe a Venus flytrap? Didn't leave much of an impression, except maybe that they died and that sucked. shrug.
A couple years later, I was in a bog near my grandmother's lake house, when things changed forever. I was in the back end of the canoe, and as my dad pulled the front end out of the water, I glanced to my right and spied, on a stump with some moss, sundews (Drosera rotundifolia, to be precise).
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