On Sunsets

I'm away right now. Not doing normal things, like working and writing and e-mailing and whatnot. Really, I shouldn't even be blogging. But I had a thought yesterday, and writing it down will help me remember it better. So I'm going to do it here where I can share it with you.

Watching sunsets is important.

For me, anyway.

I used to do it a lot. Like, whenever I could. And I've had a lot of great ideas while doing it. Somehow over the past few years, I've been doing less and less of it. Yesterday was the first time in recent memory that I sat down and watched a sunset. I had nothing else to do during that time. No one to talk to. No task that needed to be completed. It was just me and the world, reenacting a human ritual I suspect is an ancient as anything that could even remotely be called humanity.

And I felt more at peace and connected with the world than I have in some time.

So, sunsets. Stop and enjoy them. Even SANDMAN's Lucifer got something out of it. You will too.

For the Locker: Dr. Seuss

After a morning news-a-thon filled mostly with reading retrospectives about Maurice Sendak, I came across this post from an amazing site called Letters of Note that may become part of my daily reading. I am amazed at how very modern 1957 Seuss sounds in his advice and how very pertinent it still seems.

I have often thought that if I find success as an author, I shall get a P.O. box and put its address somewhere online or in my author bios and that I shall endeavor to respond to every handwritten letter that comes to me.

Maybe that's naive and romantic, but I still think it's an ideal worth striving towards.

Hopefully Letters of Note won't mind me reposting their images. Their website is silent on the issue.

For the Locker: Neil Gaiman on Art

Not much more to say than that, really, other than that this speech is inspiring and interesting, and that the shots of the students remind me that I only graduated from college three years ago. I remember sitting in the audience, sleepless, terrified, and vaguely disappointed, vividly and viscerally. I do not remember a word of any of the speeches given.

Since then, somehow, I have done many enjoyable things. And I have a career that exists at least partly in the arts.

Sometimes I forget what an accomplishment that is.

Something beautiful for Thursday: The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore

It is cold and cloudy and dreary outside, and I have discovered today a beautiful thing that ought to be shared as much as possible. It is a short film called "The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore," and I would be hard-pressed to find a better example of a simple and beautiful idea flawlessly executed.

The video, it seems, cannot be embedded, so I shall link you instead to the article on which I found it.

Happy Thursday!