The poppy is an uncomplicated creature. It has one color. It is not parasitic or solitary. It grows simply, and in groups, like schoolchildren.
But its symbolism is rich, with a magnitude that has spanned many countries, and many centuries. For such a little flower it carries meanings that are vast and weary; that are eternal and quiet in the earth.
In Greece and Rome the poppy meant sleep and death - worlds beneath the cold eyelid. Opium was extruded from its seeds and sleepy breaths colored ancient dens and palaces. Poppies decorated the tombstones of their dead, welcoming the lengthy sleep. In Persian literature, the poppy is called the eternal flower - for emotions unrelenting and without end; for loyalty without limit.
The poppy fields in The Wizard of Oz were billowing and fearsome, promising an everlasting sleep. In Egypt opium was daubed on the neck and wrists like a hypnotic perfume.
It wasn't until 1915 that the significance of the little red flower passed into Europe as well, when the ground was already red. Towards the end of the year a poem was published - a trifle sentimental, a little maudlin, as most affairs of the heart are - and its beginning is familiar:
"In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row...
The fragrant drops of blood growing amongst the white purity must have been a shocking sight to the soldier; in a poem it might be less awful but no less meaningful. The poppy had become a part of their spoiled landscape.
"That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below
1915 was a terrible year. Gallipoli - Ypres - Nueve Chapelle - Loos - The Battles of the Isonzo...the poppies must have shuddered in the stinging breeze.
"We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields
When the war was over, and the hardness and the bitternress had set in, the poppy had adopted another symbol - the four blasted years that had called the Edwardians in from their play, that had rubbed the gilt off the lily. Its brave, bloody image was burnt on the dying soldier's eyes.
On Veteran's Dan/Remembrance Day the popppy is worn, sewn into wreaths, displayed in houses (Aubrey does this): it is still held high.
"Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields"
I was walking home - desperately - from work one day, shuddering with my disinterest, when I looked up and saw a simple composition floating in the impatient sky. All of the elements were ruled by astronomy, so as each second passed, they were shifted by a celestial sleight-of-hand.
I saw a crescent moon, hanging in the sky like a slice from a ghostly fruit. A rag of cloud, the color of sweetness - apricots, irises - was pulled across the pale lunar fraction. The sky was a gentle product of the negotiation between daylight and sunset: a lavender agreement.
The sky assembles visions like this every evening. It is common drink. But I would dare anyone to take a sip from this vignette ordinaire and not return home happy and reeling.
"And behold, and lo," it was said. And thence came a creature empowered with seven horns, seven eyes and seven Spirits.
And there were seven seals.
The first seal...
was Conquest:
Boyfriend had an excellent day of surfing at Asilomar Beach. I couldn't tell: there were dozens of black wet-suited figures in the water. But all I could tell was that it was early, I was hungry and I wanted to go to the Monterey Aquarium.
The second seal...
was War:
I chased Boyfriend down on the bumper car rides at the boardwalk in Santa Cruz. Always hug the curb, friends, and then attack from the inside.
The third seal...
was Famine:
I was so hungry on Saturday. Fortunately there is a place on the Santa Cruz wharf that serves a dish that is built thusly: a slice of sourdough bread is covered with a mix of crabmeat, shrimp and mushrooms in a cream sauce and then topped with Monterey jack cheese.
The fourth seal...
was Death:
Something, that is, that I wished on Boyfriend and something I believe I narrowly escaped after he insisted I ride the Hurricane rollercoaster on the boardwalk. And yes, the website is correct: I did not notice the beautiful ocean views.
The fifth seal...
was a Vision of Martyrs:
On Halloween, Boyfriend and I saw the original 'Night of the Living Dead' on TV. I'm not sure - is the story here a little martyr-like? This was my first zombie film, so there were many things that confused me.
The sixth seal...
was Earthquake:
There was a 3.7 magnitude earthquake on the Sunday that we left for home. The earthquake was in Central California. We were in Central California. I don't think I need to explain further.
The seventh seal was the Trumpets of Angels and the end of the world:
On Sunday we went to the Monarch Butterfly Habitat. The butterflies fluttered like gilded angels. The migrations forced upon them are tremendous, and many do not survive.
Boyfriend and I have made this trip every year that we've been together: a considerable time. We stay in Pacific Grove, visit Monterey, spend the day in Santa Cruz.
We haven't encountered anything yet to make us change our plans.
Go forth and fill your libraries with media.
Seriously, thanks to everyone for being so amazing and patient. You are the reason I love Vox.
I was just told that the Amazon Conduit will be fixed by tomorrow. I will post here as soon as I get word that it's back up and running.
I know this has been frustrating and I am sorry there wasn't more I could do to make it less so. I really appreciate your patience though.
Cheers,
Those poor schmucks in the video above decided to disguise themselves during their break-in by scribbling over their features with a black marker. Shockingly, It didn’t work.
But dammit! This would have worked in a comic book! Hell, all you need a domino mask or a pair of glasses to fool your most intimate friends and family. Clark Kent worked around photographers and even as an anchor man for a while and no one spotted that he was also Superman who was constantly in the news!
Hell, you don’t even need glasses! Take a peek at the disguises of the original Flash and Doll Man! The Flash’s disguise was a dopey metal hat that might keep the CIA from beaming their mind controlling messages into brain (Stop denying CIA! We all know that the Culinary Institute of America is really a front for our alien overlords!), but it would hardly fool people into thinking you weren’t who you are.
Doll Man’s disguise was short shorts! Granted, Doll Man’s legs might have been distracting and he was small, but I’ve been able to recognize dolls based on famous people I barely know, so I’m pretty sure I’d recognize my friend if he was doll-sized.
Of course, the worst is the original Black Condor who had nothing to disguise his identity except that his bare chest might have drawn the eye away from his face. Additionally, when the Black Condor, Richard Grey, Jr., was unable to save Senator Thomas Wright, Richard just took over his identity and no one noticed. That’s right! Not only didn’t people notice that a U.S. Senator was replaced by some guy raised by condors, they didn’t notice that it was the same guy who was flying around the Capital Building even though he did nothing to conceal his identity except take his clothes off. One of the people who didn’t notice was Senator Thomas Wright’s fiancée, Wendy, who Richard also appropriated with the Senator Thomas Wright identity. I will remind you that the Black Condor was the hero of his comic and not repugnant identity thief and rapist.
So be proud scribble faced crooks! Sure, you were caught in part because you had no way to remove the indelible ink from you faces before you were confronted, but you stand in long and illustrious line of American heroes with terrible, terrible disguises! Things may look bad for you know, but remember, no one will recognize you as those dimwitted burglars when you get out of jail, clean faced, years from today!
But just to be on the safe side, I'd invest in a pair of glasses.
Ant-Man, the Wasp, Swarm, The Queen Bee, all of them control insects. And guys like The Bug-Eyed Bandit used mechanical insects in their nefarious comic book adventures. Now, the US Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), has been working with University of California, Berkeley to create remotely controlled cyborg insects!
Electrodes were implanted into the pupal stage of a beetle. That beetle grows to a winged adult, and scientists could fly it around a room, controlling its direction with a lab top!
DARPA hopes to create a Nano Air Vehicle (NAV) using this technology that could carry ... who knows what? Tiny spying microphones! Electromagnetic field generators to scramble computers! Poison darts! It’s the Defense Department! Read the story here!
A couple of years ago, in late October, I wrote a post about the many incarnations I assumed for Halloween. I have photos as proof of the kangaroo, the gladiator, the geisha and gypsy that went from house to house on October 31, many years ago.
One year, I wore a pair of scarlet japanese pajamas. It was 1958, and I was almost one and half years old. I believe I looked three. In this particular photo, I am attacking a bowl of candy with great single-mindedness and with both hands. My cheeks could be envied by either a Gerber's baby or a squirrel, but either way I am obviously fattening myself for the upcoming winter months. Here, it looks like my little rayon/taffeta top is a little tight around the middle.
But such afflicted inches go unpunished when one is young. Mother fed me prodigiously.
Now, in recent years, Mother has been in the habit of giving me things she comes across...old photos, scraps of interesting fabric I might be able to use - with sequins, metal threads, rosettes, many and sundries - catalogues, comics she'd like to share with me, comics she'd like me to explain to her.
But the other day, I received something else. A pair of tiny frogged pajamas, embroidered and apricot colored. The passage of fifty years had degraded my Halloween suit from crimson to pastel.
But not a single hand embroidered thrread was ripped - not a flower in that wearable garden had been uprooted. But my pajamas had been folded many times over the decades, so a puzzle of creases covered them: tiny fields puckered over a rayon landscape.
I couldn't believe my good luck - that my mother had seen fit to return such a dear memory to me. I'm sure I didn't wear my pretty pajamas many times after that faded Halloween, but still they have an air of weariness, of a tiny perfection, that assures me that for those few times they were worn very well, indeed.
This guy may be the best person you will ever see.
Bad news. As many of you have probably noticed, the Amazon Conduit was not fixed in the last week's release. Unfortunately, there was an undetected bug that is preventing the conduit from working.
We are working on this bug fix and hope to have the Conduit back up and running this week.
I will keep you posted.
Thank you for being so patient.
