Francesca Forrest's Blog, page 179

Aung San Suu Kyi taking young people's questions

Amnesty International had an event yesterday for high school and college-aged (or thereabouts) people, where they could ask Aung San Suu Kyi questions. The whole thing was live streamed.

screenshot



Some extraneous things about the event distracted me:

It didn't start on time. That's not a big deal I guess--presidential speeches don't always start on time either. Or even usually?
Of two microphones, one each for two event introducers, one didn't work. This was so like what happens in events organi...

snail and butterfly

This morning, skateboarding, I saw spiral shell, a snail shell, and I saw it still had a snail in it, making his way across Winsor dam, waving his tentacles, taking in the sights. I picked him up and set him down further along in the direction he was going, over by the very edge of the dam, away from the danger of marauding skateboard wheels.

Made me wonder: is there an equivalent to this for people? Being picked up and set down elsewhere, no harm done, but surroundings much changed?

(Actually...

Congratulations to sartorias and rachelmanija

Their book Stranger, the catalyst for the Yes Gay YA campaign, will be published by Viking, with the redoubtable sdn as an editor. This is a huge triumph, and rachelmanija writes more here.

I've beta-read this book; it's excellent. The healing angel has also read it; he loved it. I look forward to its being a smashing success.

Maybe with a movie :D

Outside the psychic's

The other day, when I was driving home along a long, somewhat dreary highway that has half-failed malls and Ocean State Job Lot and car dealerships and things along it, I happened to be stopped in sight of a psychic's establishment, and there, sitting outside, waiting her turn, was an androgynous, lean woman, sitting with her shoulders hunched, in an olive-drab t-shirt, and with a half-anxious, half-fed-up expression on her face. She had a baby on her lap that looked like a doll, in layers an...

in flows elsewhere

The other world flows into this one at certain times, filling up hollows and low places, catching on high ones.

At this moment, through this portal, you can find it:



And here...



...Here, the solar paramecia are swimming in the streams of light:

let me show you some things

Here is white snakeroot, a beautiful but poisonous plant that looks quite similar to boneset, a beneficial plant.



As for this... is it a path? Or a streambed?



Both! It is a path that water follows after a rain. A temporary streambed. A bed for temporary streams. But the streams don't sleep in it, they rush along it.

We had a picnic today: we ate underneath an apple tree. ... Actually, apple picking was going on, so people kept on walking by us. I guess it was a strange place, in the end, to pic...

The mantle of my privilege

I want to share people’s stories, because by the transitive property of story, we all grow and deepen. I’ve never subsisted on a bowl of rice a day and picked wild herbs to try to cure my firstborn’s measles while under the watchful eye of the Khmer Rouge, but my neighbor has, and she told me about it, and I’m wiser. I tell you about it, and you’re wiser. Transitive property of story.

Recently, I’ve started reaching out to people---just tentatively, just a little---to hear their stories. But...

A Mighty Girl

Kate Beaton called attention to this cool website,
A Mighty Girl ,
which is a clearinghouse of books and movies featuring "smart, confident, and courageous girls."

Specifically, she linked to the page on the top picks of graphic novels featuring mighty girls . I was a bit surprised that Bayou wasn't in there (maybe they'll add it), but there's certainly a large and interesting selection as it is--more than 80 titles. Neat!

the journey to buy morning milk

We needed milk, so I walked out to buy some. The road began in mist:



The marsh has become a tapestry of autumn flowers: Japanese knotweed, goldenrod, asters. . .



I decided not to buy the milk at the supermarket but to go on to the convenience store, and that, Mr. Frost, made all the difference in terms of things seen and heard. As I paused on the verge of that decision, someone, an older man, judging by his voice, passed behind me, talking on his cell phone:

Yeah, I hear you. Where are you, Ver...

The calcified birds of Turahalli Forest

deponti was in Turahalli Forest, near Bangalore, recently, and she took this photo:



As you undoubtedly know, the birds of ancient days had wingspans the size of hillsides. When struck by lightning as they flew, they calcified, and in some places their magnificent wings remain, as stone outcroppings in the landscape. Turahalli Forest is famous for this well-preserved wing.

Isn't that right, deponti ?