My favourite site of the day is: FUCK YEAH NEIL PATRICK HARRIS.
Kevin Kelly's "Amish Hackers" is an enlightening piece about the lives of the Amish: "...on my several visits with them, I have found them to be ingenious hackers and tinkers, the ultimate makers and do-it-yourselfers and surprisingly pro technology."
I searched Harper's Index using the term "love", and these are the statistics that came out.
Alexa Martin Pruit reminds us to encourage our writers. They/we need it.
The juxtaposition of old and new Japanese building facades is interesting.
Steven Levy discusses the burden of Twitter.
Valerie Maltoni wrote a good piece about what to expect out of and how to handle Twitter.
Read about the touching reunion of a 40-year-old woman and the fireman who saved her life when she was an infant.
If you want to test out fonts without screwing around with your website template, "Font Tester "...is a free online font comparison tool... that allows you to easily preview and compare different fonts side by side with various CSS font styles applied to them."
This is strange, and I can't vouch for the truth behind it, but Till-Death-Do-Us-Part.com purports to "...help you find a singing partner for your swan song" if you are terminally ill.
I forgot about and then just rediscovered the amazing online music station Woxy.com.
The Encircled Grove
I never understand anything
until I have written about it
And written here is the ceremony of the land
itself, without commentary, other than what it,
this grove, places before the senses. In the deep cool
of glades, clumps of twisted salt cedar, snake
barked cottonwoods with trunks twice as thick
as a man, broad leaves pushing at the sunlight
that only glimmers down to the moist earth
with its beetles and ferns.
The grove is circular out of ancient incantation,
some enchantment older than Comanche spoke here,
formed this protected world and helf it against
wind or geology. The high plain stops at the edge
of its greenness, swirls around it, continues
as far as the eye travels the spreading land
and domed blue hold it in their rushing powers.
Sky Father. Earth Mother. Here is the point
equidistant, focused, the navel that magic flows
As I passed through
shaped, protected, set free by the Pecos River
and the wind from the quarrels of family, whispers
that held our old house fast. Grandmother's ghost
could never walk in the Bosque where silence became
a moistness, held your breath like another pair
of murmuring lips.
Wild foxes apparently love trampolines. Here's one example of their springy, foxy fun: