It’s a good thing that multiple rikishi can receive the same prize during a single basho. I know you feel the same way.
There are different kinds of tired and myriad ways to describe all of those kinds of tired. Whole body shaking, exhausted to the point of dropping, bone weary, flat out, done in, worn out, fatigued.
We live in a time when it’s utterly unremarkable, coolly commonplace, to scroll past headlines like “How Hatred Came To Dominate American Politics” and “A Caterpillar With Vomit-Inducing Poison Fur Is Taking Over Virginia.” I think we’d best get cookin’.
Actor and singing powerhouse Billy Porter has a name that puts me in mind of entertainment legends Billie Holiday and Cole Porter. I wonder whether this was intentional or a happy accident. Without knowing one way or the other, Schrodinger would accept my stipulation that both are simultaneously true.
It’s not the third British invasion. Kind of a shame, too, because the music scene can always use a refresh, but Lewis Capaldi, Ed Sheeran, and Rag’n’Bone Man don’t make for much of a wave. There is, however, a second wave of tiny Terran aliens crashing around the world.
For certain members of our community, now is the time of year when clean slates are sought and when forgiveness is begged, received, and given. It’s a time for one big, fat “mea culpa” and a giant “hey, no probs” in return. There are songs sung about being unworthy (a word that ALWAYS makes me […]
I hope today gives you what you want. But I trust today will give you what you need.
There’s something about September that makes us wistful. By “us,” naturally, I mean exclusively humans. Cats are mercifully devoid of all the wist that twists us in nostalgic knots.