Wet Spider Web By Spillway — Image by kenne
“I’d come to realize that all our troubles spring from our failure to use plain, clear-cut language.”
―
Archive for the ‘Exisitentialism’ Category
Wet Spider Web Leave a comment
A Cartoon or An Illustration 1 comment
The New Yorker Cover Story (October 31, 2022) by Sergio García Sánchez
First, let me say I love the work of Sergio García Sánchez. I find it very creative, using clean lines and a lot of symbolism. In the October 31, 2022, issue of The New Yorker, Sánchez uses the backdrop of the Grand Central Terminal for Halloween creators passing through the now busy terminal compared to during the pandemic.
On May 5, 2020, I did a Cartoon du jour posting of the Sánchez cover of Walt Whitman on The New York Times Book Review cover. I first so it as a cartoon, or was it? Was it an illustration? To answer the question, I turned to David Blumenstein, who wrote a posting on Medium, Illustrations vs. Cartoons vs. Comics. What’s the difference, and when do I use each one?
Generally speaking:
Illustrations can tell you what is happening.
Cartoons can tell you how people are feeling.
That works for me, so the October 31 cover is an illustration. Thank you, David.
— kenne
Share this:
Never Believe Your Own Lies 4 comments
Cactus Blossom: Kind of Holiness or Wonderfulness in Nature (April 10, 2022) — Image by kenne
“Above all, don’t lie to yourself.
The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie
comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him,
or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others.
And having no respect he ceases to love.”
— Fyodor Mikhailevich Dostoevsky
Share this:
Barn Owl Up Close 2 comments
Barn Owl Up Close — Image by kenne
Nature is not to be
put in order,
nature is order.
We must put
ourselves
in accord
with this order.
Share this:
Kenne Squared Leave a comment
Kenne Squared — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“All that is transitory is but a metaphor.”
―
Share this:
To Walk The Line . . . 3 comments
Fenceline — To walk the line is to understand both sides of the fence. — kenne
“The most thought-provoking thing in our thought-provoking time
is that we are still not thinking.”
— Martin Heidegger
Share this:
Mountain Wildflowers Leave a comment
Wildflowers on Mt. Lemmon, Santa Catalina Mountains — Images by kenne
What is the late November doing
With the disturbance of the spring
And creatures of the summer heat,
And snowdrops writhing under feet
And hollyhocks that aim too high
Red into grey and tumble down
Late roses filled with early snow?
Thunder rolled by the rolling stars
Simulates triumphal cars
Deployed in constellated wars
Scorpion fights against the sun
Until the Sun and Moon go down
Comets weep and Leonids fly
Hunt the heavens and the plains
Whirled in a vortex that shall bring
The world to that destructive fire
Which burns before the ice-cap reigns
— from Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot
Share this:
“Global Warming” Leave a comment
“Global Warming” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“Maybe it’s not about a happy ending.
Maybe it’s about the story.”
— Albert Camus
Share this:
Sunrise On Wildhorse Trail 1 comment
Sunrise On Wildhorse Trail (Saguaro National Park – East) — Image by kenne
“Knowledge of that which concerns us infinitely
is possible only in an attitude of infinite concern.”
― Paul Tillich
Share this:
Cartoon Du Jour — If You Are Not, Then You Are Dead 2 comments
nearlywildcamping.org
If you are not, then you are dead!
— kenne
Share this:
24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home #6 3 comments
Thomas R. Turner (May 23, 1942–November 13, 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
This posting is the sixth, and last, I will be sharing from a long poem written by Tom
sometime around 1980 after his wife left him. Today is the fifth anniversary of his death.
24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home
(Taken from a Brooklyn Bus Route and the Title of a Blues Album.)
The nuances between us were scattered with the
January snows of Peter's arrival.
Ambiguities, second starts and brokendreams were too
Tangled up in Blue to
Cut to the exact place on the page where our rhythm had
Broken.
I'm not that young any more.
"Get off your stagnant ass and do something."
The scenario years later would speak.
The Pacific Northwest and a three quarter profile statement
Echoing out Denny's window
Why I never got a job during all those summers.
Only the facts she put to me.
I couldn't keep in step with the definitions you
Dreamed.
We speculated endlessly in different directions
Whether our togethrness might might imaginable be framed
From inside so that the usual connection between lover
And lover and loved and loved would be interchangeable but
Paradoxically unchanging.
(For my benefit, I suppose)
Was the fiction of my eroticism so damn necessary?
Somewhere I glimpsed you
Coming at me; balancing cryptic hats . . .
Laughing comic confusion.
Now I never see you anymore.
The summers are much colder tha used to be
In that other time, when you and I were young.
I miss the human truth of your smile;
The half-hearted gaze of your voice and all the things
That you'll always be to me.
Only thee is no comic relief
Just a
Curious translation of cracked nostalgia.
But lets
Skip the arguments.
I already know how the story ends:
A-not-so-crytic-message:
Don't be naive
You could only gaze into the distance at my life.
Share this:
24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home #4 Leave a comment
Thomas R. Turner (May 23, 1942–November 13, 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
This posting is the fourth of several I will be sharing from a long poem written by Tom
sometime around 1980 after his wife left him. Today is the fifth anniversary of his death.
24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home
(Taken from a Brooklyn Bus Route and the Title of a Blues Album.)
Closely watched trains came and went without me without us
I somehow missed you
Eyes have a way.
After love with my caliban sweat and noises
A vacant resentment would knife
From glares askance
First seen in the pain of Vanessa-labor.
And this is what happens when you love someone?
Progeny and sunburn haired sensualness
Prefaced Rare-Earth and a student nurse.
The ideology of lesbos intimacy had
Clandestinely raised its latent head.
But it doesn't matter anymore.
(You were the poet in my heart)
91st street was the end
Wasn't it?
Curious how our windows are always steamed-up
On Autumnal days.
(Was ANYTHING central?)
The "is-this-all-there-is" syndrome sums up the
Period: Existentialist discontent
With a walk-up duplex decor.
A matter-of-fact sexuality
Presaged a psychic-incarnation I couldn't see.
Lisa brought home a metamorphosis I didn't
Realize.
They cut your "tubes" after she came and that was that.
Funny how I thought even then that is was
All a matter of hormonal imbalance. Shit!
And what about you?
Paradoxes betray the limits of logic
Not of the reality we shared.
Your "passion" was stillborn though so damn necessary.
A dissolution of absence into substance sucked
Screaming through a Rimbaud-Day-On-Fire.
I could't laugh enough for the
Frivolity she needed but detested.
Share this:
Sunset January 22, 2019 Leave a comment
Sunset January 22, 2019 — Image by kenne
We can speak without voice to the trees and
the clouds and the waves of the sea.
Without words, they respond through the rustling of leaves and
the moving of clouds and the murmuring of the sea.
— Paul Tillich
Share this:
Cactus Wren — Photo-Artistry 4 comments
Cactus Wren — Photo-Artistry by kenne
People demand freedom of speech
as a compensation
for the freedom of thought
which they seldom use.
— Soren Kierkegaard
Share this:
Follow The Narrow Trail Leave a comment
Follow the Narrow Trail (The Tucson Mountains) — Image by kenne
No Name Trails
My trails don’t always have a name.
They are the ones on which I roam
Gathering new views to capture
Sharing with others who read books
And write poems on the earth and sky.
— kenne
Becoming is Superior to Being 