Pete Seeger

Not naming names, just saying good night Irene. Pete, you are now in a heaven. This heaven is  your heaven. There is not much one can say but hum some of his beloved songs. 

Lacking human proportions

Out there, those floating  in the sky do not have a horizon. Nor do those digging in the depth of the Earth.

Our song...

Well sung. Well sang....so post it on Facebook

We’re living on a million tiny stages. Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook, YouTube. Dinner plates are showcases for our food, beds become venues for our slumber, selfies are curtain calls for our faces. We put our activities on display, our feelings, our families, our skies. We’re not quite sure if there is a point in doing anything anymore if it can’t be documented, if no one is there to observe it. We long for favorites and likes and reposts, compulsively monitor these new forms of applause. The marquees of our lives say, special guest: ME! We play an encore, and then another. The quotidian one-man show never quite ends.