Today I feel::Rushed

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2003-07-10 @ 9:15 a.m.
Going to the movies and Hymn to the Night

Last night Dale and I took Stephanie with us to see Terminator 3, while he didn't think it was as good as number 2, and maybe it wasn't, Stephanie and both enjoyed it quite a bit. It was nice to see Arnie in action again. Well...and naked. The story hung together pretty well and the action scenes were great. I did hear Stephanie mutter "propane" whenever a big explosion went off but she had a good time with it. She's been pretty down lately with all her friends gone. She even had me cut about 5 inches off her hair. She's getting used to the shorter length before she gets it all whacked off. I really wish she would keep it long. But thats just my preference. She's tired of it and the short length will make getting ready for school faster. Really short!! I have hair past my butt. But then my mother always wanted it short. Funny how that works out. LOL

(Sorry for the gaps in the diary again. If anyone is looking. I was sick again from too much work.)

Last night after the show the sky was so clear you could get lost in it. There isn't much in the way of ground light to get in the way. So when the stars are out you can almost touch them. Diamonds in the sky. It's warm enough for camping, maybe this weekend, then I can lay in the open, in my lovers arms and gaze up at the stars. (and get rained on by mornig. Ha!!)

Here is a quote from Novalis' "Hymns to the Night" first published in 1800:


Aside I turn to the holy, unspeakable, mysterious Night. Afar lies the

world -- sunk in a deep grave -- waste and lonely is its place. In the

chords of the bosom blows a deep sadness. I am ready to sink away in

drops of dew, and mingle with the ashes. -- The distances of memory, the

wishes of youth, the dreams of childhood, the brief joys and vain hopes

of a whole long life, arise in gray garments, like an evening vapor

after the sunset. In other regions the light has pitched its joyous

tents. What if it should never return to its children, who wait for it

with the faith of innocence?

What springs up all at once so sweetly boding in my heart, and stills

the soft air of sadness? Dost thou also take a pleasure in us, dark

Night? What holdest thou under thy mantle, that with hidden power

affects my soul? Precious balm drips from thy hand out of its bundle of

poppies. Thou upliftest the heavy-laden wings of the soul. Darkly and

inexpressibly are we moved -- joy-startled, I see a grave face that,

tender and worshipful, inclines toward me, and, amid manifold entangled

locks, reveals the youthful loveliness of the Mother.


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