Upper Half of Beacon Street

In a way of being completely timless, somethings are also undeniably timely. So it was today with a walk through the freezing weather. I won’t deny that I liked it, though it’s not so easy to make clear my own mental picture. I had the unique opportunity to experience not one, but three different winter days in the Northeast: the bitterly cold type, the sunny, laugh with your eyes and walk with the baby kind of day, and finally the fluffy snowflake experience. I woke up to snow today, and it was fluffy.

Snow has an odd insulating effect, whereas the more snow you get, the nicer the onset of the day is. I was able to carry on about most of my day outdoors as I would, riding the T, grabbing some food, school-window shopping (as it were). It was refreshingly chilly but well in my range of tolerance. In short, a nice winters day full of snow.

Now I had seen snow before, but other than this time, it had always been of that disgusting brownish, sleet condition. The leftovers of snow plowing and salt are not as romantic as some movies like to play them out to be. I dealt with that though, because that’s the way it is. That’s the way it is, and will be until something beautiful falls out of the sky. And it did.

Walking down Beacon Street today made everything– being sick, losing things, spelling losing wrong, the brown snow –worthwhile. It wasn’t a Christmas scene, no, but it was elegant. More often than not, it was if the trees all around me had grown a new set of leaves in white. Houses around me went from states of disrepair to snow-covered safe-havens. Trash was covered and foot prints erases. Shops were perfect, hot food what I needed and everything became well-worth the wait, effort, and in the case of my frozen feet, pain.

If I’m alone too long, I think about things that I shouldn’t. I’m one of those kinds of people that when prompted with a problem, keep going at it forever until solved. There are other kinds to that can ignore a problem once they realize that pursuit is fruitless. I dig in my heart until it hurts, literally. Today, driving through the snow (I’m not much for actually walking in it) was worth it. I needed to know that that was still possible.

Sonate of the Good Man

“Poets are engeniers of the soul.” Stalin

I’m having a tought time imagining someone who truly understands music, I mean really understands some of this music as a bad person. I know they’re everywhere around us, tyrants, thiefs, –presidents, but I also hear and read of their passion for music, and further, art. How can someone who appreciates art, to really know and feel it, be a bad person?

I picked this all up from a new film, Das Leben der Anderen. If you get the chance, I suggest you see it. I’m all for socialism, but this made me rethink a few things. I’m an open forum now, talk to me. I’m not really sure who or what good and bad men really are.

Das Leben der Anderen

“Der Dichter ist der Ingenieur der Seele” – Stalin

Was bedeautet das Leben. Warum sind wir heir? Wenn es gibt kein Freiden auf der Welt, würde das Leben genug fur die Seele sein? Ich wünsche mir, dass ich bald alles vergessen kann, weil mein Herz mir weh tut, wenn ich über diese Dingen denke. Ich weiß es nicht, ob ich ein guter Mensch bin. Bin ich, was meinst du?

Weiter, was meint Stalin?

mt2d2 Deutsch

I thought I could use a bit more practice, so I decided to setup a blog so that I can practice writing a bit more in German. I haven’t written much yet (and I’m pretty sure most of it is wrong) but I hope it helps me and perhaps others understand a bit better. I think I’ll start by translating some of the older articles, perhaps my favorite ones first. I’ll post my favorite updates when I get around to them. Until then, enjoy spiffiness for and perhaps comment in the same language. Who knows, this could be the start of one of many!