In your interior castle

You, seven, seven mansions.

Gladly Surrender Yourself to Clotho

Days:

Swift and subtle

The flying shuttle

Crosses the web

And fills the loom,

Leaving for range

Of choice or change

No room, no room.

Janet Loxley Lewis.

Do you know me, my lord?

Excellent well. You are a fishmonger:

Pike Place Market is a public market in Seattle, Washington, United States. It opened on August 17, 1907, and is one of the older continuously operated public farmers' markets in the United States. Overlooking the Elliott Bay waterfront on Puget Sound, it serves as a place of business for many small farmers, craftspeople and merchants. It is named for its central street, Pike Place, which runs northwest from Pike Street to Virginia Street on the western edge of Downtown Seattle. Pike Place Market is Seattle's most popular tourist destination, with more than 20 million annual visitors.

The Market is built on the edge of a steep hill and consists of several lower levels located below the main level. Each features a variety of unique shops such as antique dealers, comic book and collectible shops, small family-owned restaurants, and one of the oldest head shops in Seattle. The upper street level contains fishmongers, fresh produce stands and craft stalls operating in the covered arcades.

I generally will eschew the C Line and walk down to the waterfront from the office, often meandering through the crowds of tourists around the market.  The kids and I hung out down there for Thanksgiving last year, too.  It's a neat place, and now that they've closed things off to cars, reminds me of Church Street in Burlington another lifetime ago.

Anyway, happy birthday, Pike Place.

I want to be the one who always gives you shelter

Finds a way to keep you warm.

Love of Our Own Abjection

The Other Place:

The leaves had fallen in that sullen place,

but none around him knew just where they were.

The sky revealed no sun. A ragged blur

remained where each man's face had been a face.

Two angels soon crept forth with trays of bread,

circling among the lost like prison guards.

Love is not love, unless its will affords

forgiveness for the words that are not said.

Still he could not believe that this was Hell,

that others sent before him did not know;

yet, once his name and memory grew faint,

it was no worse, perhaps, than a cheap motel.

It is the love of failure makes a saint.

He stood up then, but did not try to go.

William Logan.

Narcissist-in-Chief

🤦‍♂️

It’s a fucking aircraft carrier, it’s not supposed to be pretty. I don’t understand why the Navy would even entertain this nonsense.

He wants the tower/command center to be closer to the front of the ship. It would cost billions and result in years of delays. https://t.co/x1RQqqZ7vk

— Angry Staffer (@Angry_Staffer) August 15, 2026

Ericka used to do the same sort of shit all the time, albeit on a slightly smaller scale.  It's all part of being a narcissist, exercising control and whatnot to fill the void, etc.

Can't tell you how much time I spent following her directions¹, moving shit around the yard or the living room or whatever (when I was supposed to be working, even).  All just to change something that needed no changing, often making it worse.

And my god, she slathered fucking chalk paint on everything.  For example, Sam's dresser (which was mine before his, and my mother's before mine), lovely antique with a rich finish that showed off the gorgeous wood grain...covered in taupe-ish (I think?) chalk paint with some geometrical designs in muted colors.  Otherwise, generally leaning into lots of grey, lots of black.  Reminds me of Trump's obsession with gold paint.

Anyway, of course none of what our pathological president demands makes sense to us who don't suffer from the same compulsions.  Prolly a good reason not to put a person like that in charge.

Selah.

1 - Always fraught with danger because not only was her emotional regulation eroding, so were her language faculties.  "Put that in the center."  [Puts it in the center]  "You never fucking listen to me, put it in the center!"  [She meant the corner]  3 days later...  "Put that in the center."  [Confirms 'corner' vs 'center', puts it in the corner]  "You never fucking listen to me, put it in the center!"  Rinse, repeat.

Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky

Kid does nice arrangements.

When the Hurly-Burly’s Done

Set for Macbeth:

Mist on the cliff:
These two alone,
Stone, and the mist
Destroying the stone.

Ageless, forgotten
For time to come;
Primal water
And shapes therefrom.

Shadows lurching
Into the mist,
Merging in dream
And the sea's list;

And the low surge,
Muffled and lonely—
These and the cliff:
Mist only. 

Frances Jennings.

Few Men Have Virtue to Withstand the Highest Bidder

While gas prices soar Americans lose health care and trapped sailors eat rotten meat pic.twitter.com/2PynI9cJXz

— The Tennessee Holler (@TheTNHoller) August 15, 2026

The Father of our Country would hate Trump and what he's doing to the People's House:

Washington had already sourced and arranged an architect to begin work on a presidential house through Pierre Charles L’Enfant, a site was chosen, and initial foundations already laid. His plans were ostentatious, comprising of a structure nearly four times the size of the house eventually built. Washington and the government in general were seeking a much more conservative approach, to serve as a break away from the regal and excessive tastes of the old-world regimes. 

Get the Versailles out of here.

Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?

Imagine everybody in the Mirthmobile banging heads to this banger.

As a Long-Time Guardians Fan, I Know This Pain

Casey at the Bat:

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;

He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;

He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;

But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.”

“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;

But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.

They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,

And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clinched in hate;

He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.

And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,

And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,

And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;

But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.

Ernest Lawrence Thayer.

You Got It Down When You Appear to Be in Pain

I had piano sheet music of Yes songs, and played Mood for a Day for recital one year.

Hokku

I:

Bits of song—what else?
I, a rider of the stream,
Lone between the clouds. 

Yone Noguchi.

#throwbackthursday

That time Mex made friends with some strange dogs. (2020)