"There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are about to die after leaning your chair back a little too far," and other thoughts from a chaotic mind.
Every now and again I feel a need to step away from things and just breathe.
I’m not sure where this feeling comes from, but it seems to just insert itself in such a way that all I can seem to do is pull back from everything. It pushes me to recoil into myself. It makes me seek refuge within the confines of silence. It forces a distancing, especially of technology which is far too invasive as it is, and inspires a desire for simplicity in its truest and most unpolluted form: a quiet observance of nature.
It’s not many workers who can say they destroyed an entire warehouse full of alcohol in just a few seconds.
Yet that is just what this poor forklift driver in Russia did in a video that emerged on the internet on Friday.
The video, which appears to be taken from a CCTV camera in the roof of the warehouse, shows the forklift driver backing up just a little bit too quickly.
He strikes a stack of boxes containing bottle of cognac and vodka – and the impact, to the horror of those standing by, brings the entire contents of the warehouse crashing down in a freak domino effect.
Workmen are pictured frantically clambering over the rubble to reach the two forklift drivers who appear to have been buried under the thousands of bottles.
Fortunately no one was seriously injured, with one driver suffering a wound to his foot, and the other apparently escaping unscathed.
Five million roubles (£105 000) worth of alcohol was destroyed in the accident, according to the Russian website that posted the video, scandalim.ru.
It is not clear if the driver had been sampling some of the stored wares when the incident occurred.
The video from the warehouse, which was not named, was posted on Friday. – Daily Mail
“When anybody preaches disunity, tries to pit one of us against the other through class warfare, race hatred or religious intolerance, you know that person seeks to rob us of our freedom and destroy our very lives.”
Anytime a people give up their civil liberties for a small measure of security, they gain neither liberty nor security.
There are few things in life that can boost a person’s spirit better than a new haircut. You see, I’ve actually spent the last couple of years trying to grow it out, but it’s been getting to be more of a hassle and so finally, one day last week I said to myself, “why am I doing this again?” And that was it.
Three nights and 7″ of hair piled up on the floor later, I’m free. Nothing much else has changed, but I certainly feel better.
Pumpkin, oh pumpkin, ’tis your season of death.
How I weep for you during this yearly massacre. The stabbing of the knives, the innards ripped asunder…how horrifying to sit in the field and watch the approaching hay wagon loaded with “customers” looking to cut you from the field and fill your insides with a burning fire for their own sick amusement.
Oh that the torture would end for you and your kind. Oh that man would understand the depth of despair for a pumpkin when they carve a smile in your anguished face.
He whispers in the dead dark of night, “Honey…listen…”
I turn my ear towards the window that has been left open just a crack so I can feel the cool breeze through the night, and I hear in the far distance a low rumbling echoing down the valley.
A few moments later I look over at him and see, as lightening flashes through the window, a smile at the corners of his mouth – he is five again and giddy with the excitement of the coming storm.
I smile too and we both wait for the next thundering boom.
Have you ever walked past an art shop only to look up and see a piece of art that is so striking it stops you cold in your tracks?
It’s happened to me twice. Once with Ansel Adam’s “Mt. McKinley and Wonder Lake” (currently hanging over my fireplace) and once with a blown up photo taken from the deck of a sailboat riding on stormy seas (likewise, hanging in my bathroom).
I’m not sure what it is about them, but I never get tired of seeing them. They show such conflict and yet hold the promise peace somehow.
For as long as I can remember, puddles have been a source of naughty delight. As any child, I too was told “stay OUT of the PUDDLES!!” Of course, this made me want to do only one thing…jump straight in creating the biggest, drenching-est, most splashy-est splash I possibly could. What I didn’t want to do though, was to actually get muddy myself…well, not beyond my ankles anyway. Talk about a serious conflict of interests!
Two inner desires competing for dominance; to splash big but stay clean in the process. Such is my turmoil.
When all else fails, go get a hair cut.
