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Joint Press Conference by Secretary Hagel and Minister Le Drian in the Pentagon Briefing Room
Presenters: Secretary of Defense Chuck Hagel and French Minister of Defense Jean-Yves Le Drian
January 24, 2014
SECRETARY OF DEFENSE CHUCK HAGEL: Good afternoon. I appreciate the opportunity to once again welcome French Minister of Defense Jean-Yves Le Drian. Jean-Yves is a friend, and I always very much enjoy his company and the conversations and discussions that we have about our important relationship and the big issues that face both of us and face the world.
We just finished a very positive and productive meeting, where we discussed several issues, and we reinforced the deep and enduring security relationship between France and the United States.
France is America's oldest ally. And our defense partnership continues to be one of great importance. It's important both in Europe and around the world. In recent years, French and U.S. troops has served side-by-side around the globe, from Africa to Afghanistan.
One area of focus today was our continuing cooperation and support of our international efforts in Africa, including significant French contributions in Mali and the Central African Republic. I commended Minister Le Drian for France's leadership and taking decisive action in Mali, as well as other locations, to displace extremists that were gaining a foothold there. The United States has provided support to operations in Mali since early 2013, including continued airlift, refueling for French aircraft, and intelligence cooperation.
I also commended France's leadership in helping the African Union's international support mission to provide humanitarian assistance in the Central African Republic. The United States has been and remains committed to supporting efforts to protect civilians, prevent further atrocities, and provide humanitarian assistance in the Central African Republic.
A little more than six weeks ago, in coordination with France, U.S. aircraft began helicoptering transport to get some 850 peacekeeping troops from Burundi to the Central African Republic and to help quell the violence in that area. Last week, we extended the support to peacekeepers from Rwanda.
Today, the minister and I discussed ways we can continue working together in Africa and other locations to address shared interests and challenges going forward, including its support of crisis response and counterterrorism efforts.
The United States and our European allies have taken the threat of violent extremism very seriously since 9/11. And we are working together to find new ways to combat this threat in Europe, the Middle East, and Africa. We also discussed a number of other critical issues, including objectives for the NATO summit in September, how to better facilitate cadet exchanges between our service academies, and our efforts to cooperate more closely in areas like space flight safety and operations.
Today I can announce that, earlier this week, U.S. Strategic Command and the French Ministry of Defense signed a space situational awareness agreement. This will enhance information-sharing between our two countries in this critical domain. This is an important step that we've taken with some of our closest allies, and now with France. And it will help bring the U.S.-French alliance further together into the 21st century.
Now I will ask the minister for his comments. And we'll be very happy to take questions.
Thank you. Minister?
DEFENSE MINISTER JEAN-YVES LE DRIAN (through translator): Thank you, Chuck. Ladies and gentlemen this is our second meeting here at the Pentagon. It is always a great pleasure for me to meet Chuck Hagel. Between us, it is now like a friendship and we are very happy to meet with each other.
My business here also has to do with the preparation of the upcoming visit -- state visit done by President Hollande in a few days. This visit, this meeting takes place at a point where we can say that we are in a situation, the Franco-American defense cooperation that has never been as important, as deep both in the strategic sector and in the intelligence sector.
The main reason is that we share the same analysis of the threats, the same analysis of proliferation risks, the same analysis regarding terrorism, and the same determination to fight against extremists and violent groups which put in question our security, the security of France, European security, but also threaten American security.
In our talks, we emphasized the questions linked to Africa. I thank Chuck Hagel for the important support -- the indispensable support that the United States gave both for France, but also gave to the U.N. missions, the African missions during these operations both in Mali, where they gave us airlift support, refueling support, and intelligence support, and in the Central African Republic, where it -- especially with transportation and airlift, in order to mobilize the African forces. And Chuck Hagel had mentioned this important support through the transportation of a certain number of African troops on the theater.
We both agreed that we needed to pursue cooperation in our dialogue on Africa, which is both a question of development, but also a question of security, both at the same time, and that security in Africa also means security in Europe and also security on the international theater, especially in the Saharan-Sahelian zone, where there are dangerous threats, and we both agreed to create a high-level group with a representative of each of us with a team in order to discuss permanently our analysis and, if the case may be, common initiatives in Africa.
I would add that during our talks I had the opportunity to explain to Chuck Hagel the new military positioning of French forces in Africa, which we're going to set up in order to better identify and better target terrorist threats in this huge area, which goes from Mauritania to the Horn of Africa.
And also together, we mentioned the future of the NATO summit and also the conclusion of the European Council (inaudible) topics that we will discuss, because we're going to meet again in February for the meeting of NATO ministers.
Thank you.
SEC. HAGEL: Minister Le Drian, thank you.
REAR ADM. JOHN KIRBY: Folks, we have time for just two questions (OFF-MIC)
Q: Mr. Secretary, you had a chance to meet with Secretary James about some of the -- the problems within the Air Force's nuclear personnel. I'm wondering if you can tell us a little bit about what thoughts she's come away with from her visits to some of the bases and what she has shared of you. And can you say -- it sounds as though this problem may be more widespread than maybe was initially thought. Is it -- I mean, what have you come to learn about that?
SEC. HAGEL: Thank you. I spoke with Secretary James last week before she left on her trip to the three ICBM locations. I spoke with her again yesterday for about an hour as she completed those inspections. And she was at Barksdale and had just met with Admiral Haney, who you all know is our commanding general for our strategic forces and who was here to meet with me last. He flew in from STRATCOM and then went back.
We spent that hour talking about some of her observations, what she thinks we need to do, some general thoughts about those recommendations that will be made in a meeting that I'll be having soon here at the Pentagon, which I announced yesterday, and the announcement of two different efforts going forward. One is to bring all of our strategic commanders, all those responsible for leadership in our nuclear deterrent, both Air Force and Navy, as well as an outside group that will be shaped and framed and specifically be given some objectives as to come back to me and the chairman with recommendations on how we can better deal with these challenges that we're now seeing as a result of what's happened here the last three weeks, especially.
As to her thoughts on this, I think she framed it up this way. There's no one issue here. And I believe that's true. This is cultural. As I said when I was at F.E. Warren Air Force Base in Wyoming, over the years, I do think we have taken some focus off of the responsibilities of these very dedicated, very bright, young officers, in the sense that their mission's important, their responsibility's important, but when you look at this country over the last 13 years has been committed to two large, long land wars.
And I think there has been a sense that -- of just well, we just take for granted that the nuclear component of our -- of our national strategic base line, and that is the nuclear deterrent. And I have said, and I believe this the case, and I asked specifically Secretary James' question, do you think that the safety, security, and effectiveness of our nuclear component or weapons are in jeopardy? She said no.
I asked Admiral Haney the same question. I asked the chief of staff of the Air Force the same question. I've asked commanders the same question. But that doesn't dismiss the -- the issues that we have in front of us.
I think also there's a testing issue here, too, that she mentioned. We -- we have a pretty significant and tight and unforgiving test curriculum and regimen that I'm not sure doesn't need to be explored and examined in some detail. Obviously, our standards can never be compromised. As I've said, and I think anyone who has any responsibility for our nuclear component, feels strongly about this, as do all these young people who we entrust with great responsibility. There cannot be any errors in this.
This is a -- a business of -- of error-free management. And when you connect that with the -- the high standard expectation at every test you take, if you don't make a 100 percent on every test, then you're eventually in a position where you probably minimize your chance for advancement.
Now, again, that's not just the only piece, but that's another piece. We're going to take a look and how we train and continue to train and test all these young people who have -- who have this great responsibility.
Standards must not be eroded. Of course not. But is there a better way to do this? Can we -- can we be more attuned to their interests? I asked the question, and I asked her the question, and she mentioned the same thing in some of her thoughts.
When you -- when you put these people in these locations, where there is -- where there's almost a certain amount of isolation, I think that's a dynamic of -- of an environment that you have to factor in, too. Do they get bored? Are we doing enough? There's another part of this, and that's incentivizing these young men and women. Is there enough incentive?
So we'll get into all of these things in great detail when -- when we have our first meeting, and we'll be coming through with a number of recommendations that will come from Secretary James' trip. General Welsh, as you know, was out there, as well. Admiral Haney has been very connected into this. All our commanders have. So we'll obviously be briefing the press on where we are on this. But I think at this point, that's about as far as I want to go in -- in responding to the question.
But, again, I would leave you with this. We're not going to erode any standards in -- in our ability to manage our nuclear stockpile, nor can we. And our nuclear stockpile is safe, secure and effective today.
Q: And on the (OFF-MIC) question, though, you can't say whether or not they've found this (OFF-MIC)
SEC. HAGEL: Well, we're looking at this, Lita. We're looking at this carefully. We have to, because we have two different episodes of two different dimensions of behavior. And so we are -- we are going to go wide and deep in exploring every facet of our training, of how we manage, of our standards, everything. We obviously have to address some of these things, and we know that something is wrong. So we'll fix them.
REAR ADM. KIRBY: Next question? Patrick?
Q: Mathieu Rabechault from Agence France-Presse. This is a question for both of you gentlemen. Mr. Minister, this morning, you mentioned the risk of chaos in Libya. France, the U.S., and other NATO countries plan to train forces there, but given the dire situation in Libya, are France and the U.S. prepared to do more to help the Libyan government secure -- to (inaudible) security there?
And another question for you, Mr. Secretary, concerting Sochi. In case of an attack, are you discussing with the Russians a possibility to let you in, either to evacuate U.S. citizens or to help them face the situation?
SEC. HAGEL: Minister?
MIN. LE DRIAN (through translator): I'm going to answer about Libya. What we notice is that they are concentrations of terrorist groups in the south of Libya. And this has been accelerated through the French intervention in Mali. And there is a kind of trafficking freeway from Guinea-Bissau all the way to the Horn of Africa with drug trafficking, weapons trafficking, human trafficking, and which go in part through south Libya.
And we keep on supporting the transition authorities. And the coming weeks will be crucial for the stability of this country. And it seems to me that it is essential to bring about the constitutional system. We need to have political conditions in order to achieve anything. And we all agree on that.
This being said, the Libyan state is very fragile. And in Libya, there are many militias that are very often as well-equipped as the army or the police. And so there's a question of security, which is a problem, and the population is exasperated. And there could be an explosion of violence, and the situation doesn't allow to fight against the terrorist groups the way we should do.
I mean, initiatives were taken, both by the United States in order to do some training of Libyan forces in order to face the security emergency that was an initiative taken by the European Union, in order to ensure border security, but we are faced with a situation that is extremely fragile.
And I think it is important for the international community to be aware of the risks, and the solution goes through a political stabilization, but also through support to secure the borders, which are very porous, and also we need to support the regular Libyan army. It is going to be a long-term task. And this should mobilize a common vigilance to avoid going back through a new cycle of terrorism in an area which is already extremely fragile.
As to Sochi, I think the question for -- was for the secretary.
SEC. HAGEL: Minister, thank you.
On your question regarding Sochi, you all know that General Dempsey was in Brussels this week and had a very in-depth conversation with his Russian counterpart. I have spoken recently, as I do often, with my counterpart in Russia, the defense minister, Shoygu. We've discussed American assistance in any way we can help the Russians.
At -- as of right now, the Russians have not requested any specific assistance or technology. We want them to know that, if they need our help, we want to help. I think as you -- most of you know, we'll have two ships in the Black Sea during that time. So whatever we can do, we want to do to help. But right now, there has been no request from the Russian government for any particular assistance.
Q: But can you just clarify, would the Russians let the U.S. in? Do you have any understanding with them? Would Russia let the United States in? Would they let France in to rescue its citizens, if it came down to that?
SEC. HAGEL: Well, we have had conversations with the Russian government on the protection of our citizens, of course. And I'll let the minister speak.
Q: Would they let them in?
SEC. HAGEL: If we need to extract our -- our citizens, we will have appropriate arrangements with the Russians to do that.
SEC. HAGEL: You may ask the minister anything you'd like, Barbara.
Q: I'm sorry. I don't speak, French, sir. My apologies.
MIN. LE DRIAN (through translator): If the question is to know whether we've had any requests from the Russian authorities for security, if France receives any request for support, the answer is no. If the question is, do you have the intention to ensure the protection of your citizens that might have problems in Sochi? The answer is yes.
REAR ADM. KIRBY: Thank you very much, everybody. Thank you.
SEC. HAGEL: Thank you.
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Source: The Van's Restaurant
The Van's Restaurant on the hill is an iconic Belmont venue that boasts "breathtaking views that stretch from San Francisco to San Jose" (Gayot).
Through Oct. 21, 2015; Sunday-Thursday
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Enjoy a lively brunch at Trace at W San Francisco, named one of Gayot's 2015 Best SF Brunch Restaurants and rated 4 stars on OpenTable.
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USA Today praises Café Figaro in downtown Burlingame as "a cozy restaurant, serving home-cooked Italian meals."
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1515 Restaurant & Lounge on Main Street in downtown Walnut Creek "serves straightforward, feel-good food" says Diablo Magazine.
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Savor "excellent, high-end Californian cuisine" (Fodor's) with lunch at Park Grill in the AAA 4-Diamond Le Méridien hotel.
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"Learn what Italian pizza is all about" (Zagat) at Farina Pizza -- where "the toppings are beautiful, simple and restrained," says SF mag -- in the Mission.
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Garibaldis is a "neighborhood institution [that] serves a broad seasonal menu of creative Cal-Med creations," says Zagat, noting its "understated elegance."
June 1, 2015 - Aug. 30, 2015; dinner any day, lunch Monday-Friday
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June 1, 2015 - Sept. 15, 2015; Monday-Saturday
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subset: commoncrawl


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Video:Quick Tip:How to Mince Garlicwith Stephanie Gallagher
Want to learn the proper technique for mincing garlic? Here, see step-by-step instructions for how to mince garlic correctly.See Transcript
Transcript:Quick Tip:How to Mince Garlic
Hi, I'm Stephanie Gallagher for About.com, and today, I'll show you how to mince garlic.
Instructions for How to Mince Garlic
First take the garlic bulb and press down on it with both hands to loosen the cloves, like this. Peel away some of the outer papery layer, and peel off a clove. Cut off the root end of the clove. Then, using the flat side of your knife, smash the clove with one hard thump. This lets you easily peel off the papery skin.
More Instructions for Mincing Garlic
Now slice the garlic.Okay, place your fingers on the edge of the knife and hold the handle gently in the other hand and rock the knife back and forth over the garlic slices to mince it. You want to hold the handle of the knife rather loosely. Just keep going over the garlic like this, until it is minced the way you want. A light touch is best. And here is your minced garlic.
Thanks for watching. For more great tips just like this one, join us on the web at Food.About.com.


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Omaha, NE Deli
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MODESTO, CA - Two individuals crashed into a jewelry store and robbed the place Thursday night.
Modesto police responded to Rogers Jewelers in north Modesto around 11:20 p.m., Lt. Jeremy Young said.
The pair used a stolen car to ram into the business, took thousands of dollars worth of jewelry and then fled the area on foot.
Friday, police released store surveillance camera photos of the crime.
Read or Share this story: http://on.news10.net/1f1p0i0


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So hey, that's 200 comics.
Thanks for reading.
So hey, that's 200 comics.
Thanks for reading.
Little bit of a delay getting this one up. Lost track of time coloring panel two and had to pause it till I got home from work.
I wanted an excuse to draw this duo again. Given their origin from a highly customizable game, I felt APB would be a pretty good vr to drop them in.
I'd have to say, that of my MMO gal avatars I've played over the years, Risu's probably my favorite. Felt the most possession of her design after all. That was of course given due to City of X's, for the time, extensive editing. Though I find it funny. She'd also probably the only one of my avatars that doesn't have gray-to-white hair.
I watched two episodes of Sherlock, the new BBC series that puts Holmes and Watson in the modern day and emphasizes Sherlock's twitchy sociopathic nature. The first one was pretty good! The second one was… well, the first one was pretty good!
However, it nags at me that even though Holmes is constantly dicking around with smartphones, either texting or looking up regional weather patterns to match the mud on someone boots or whatever, when he does his trick of figuring out everything about someone based on their scars, mannerisms and dress habits, nobody thinks "Oh, he probably googled me just now."
On the other hand, Sherlock's enemies seem to keep tabs on him through his website, so there's a nod to our compulsively public lives.


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Soaps Boards :: General Hospital Forum :: Future Super-Couple Spencer Cassadine & Josslyn Ja
Please register and login to be able to post in this message board.
Spencer Cassadine andJosslyn Jacks are so cute and I would love to see them be sorasd and paired with each other in the future. I can see Spencer being more like his father and Josslyn having spunk and sex appeal like her mother. Talk about a true power couple. The son of Prince Nikolas Cassadine and Courtney Matthews Corinthos and the daughter of business magnets Jasper Jacks and Caroline Spencer Durant Corinthos-Jacks. And also both Spencer and Josslyn's mothers were the best of friends. So Cameron Spencer and Emma Drake can hook up with each other, but I want Spencer with Josslyn.
Please register and login to be able to post in this message board.


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Virtualization market to consolidate in coming years, experts believe
As more organizations deploy virtualized environments in 2012, IT professionals believe that uniform hypervisor support and management will become necessary in order for businesses to utilize the technology. Additionally, more companies will utilize several hypervisor environments, resulting in the need for multi-hypervisor management tools, according to a TechTarget report.
As these demands become more prevalent in the business world, experts believe the market will begin to consolidate as some of the larger organizations consume smaller competitors. This will become truer as multi-hypervisor management products become more finely tuned and can be integrated well with others, TechTarget noted.
"I believe next year will be the year of accelerated consolidations and buyouts," said Edward Haletky, the chief executive officer and analyst for the Virtualization Practice, according to the news source. "We are seeing them now, but I think the big boys are going to start to seriously play in the virtualization and cloud markets."
One of the more popular versions of this industry will be desktop virtualization, which, according to ABI Research, will generate close to $5 billion in revenue by 2016. As the market expands, there will likely be some consolidation.
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Engagements: 10.15.07
The Rev. and Mrs. Eugene Winkler of Westlake, La., announce the engagement of their daughter, Lindy Winkler of Corpus Christi, to Colt Melrose of Crown Point, Ind., son of Evelyn Myers of Hobert, Okla., and the late Bruce Myers and Mr. and Mrs. Stan Melrose of Enid, Okla.
A Jan. 19 wedding is planned at St. Luke's United Methodist Church.
Announcement has been made of the engagement of Helen Joyce Gill of Corpus Christi, daughter of the late Arthur Bailey and Estella Johnson, to Steve Ray Carr, also of Corpus Christi, son of the late Darwin M. and Lois B. Carr.
A Nov. 17 wedding is planned at Harbor View Chapel.
Announcement has been made of the engagement of Danielle Pepper of Odessa, daughter of Steve and Dorothy Pepper, also of Odessa, to Roy A. Coronado, son of Rogelio and Margaret Coronado of Corpus Christi.
A Nov. 3 wedding is planned in Odessa with Monsignor Larry White and Father Mark Woodruff officiating.
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Arena announces winter concert with Shinedown, Three Days Grace
HUNTINGTON — Fresh off of a double-shot of rock this week from Daughtry and 3 Doors Down, the Big Sandy Superstore Arena is announcing another visit by multi-platinum-selling rockers.
Tickets will go on sale at 10 a.m. Friday, Dec. 7 for a Saturday, Feb. 9 concert featuring rockers Three Days Grace and Shinedown, which just announced they will be embarking on a co-headlining arena tour, kicking off on Feb. 1 at the iWireless Center in Moline, Ill.
P.O.D. will be special guest on all dates.
Tickets are $40.50 GA Floor / $40.50 & $25 reserved (plus applicable fees) and will be on sale at The Big Sandy Superstore Arena Box Office & All Ticketmaster Locations, ticketmaster.com or by phone at 800-745-5000.
Armed with their latest hit, "Chalk Outline," Three Days Grace just wrapped up over a dozen sold out, intimate venue shows in celebration of their just released, Top 5 chart debuting album , "Transit of Venus," which debuted at #1 on the Hard Rock Music Chart and #4 on the Digital Albums Chart.
Shinedown is indisputably one of the most successful rock bands of the past 10 years, enjoying an unparalleled streak of hits. The band's current album "Amaryllis," entered the Billboard 200 at #4 upon its release (#1 on the Rock Album chart), and has already spawned back-to-back #1 singles with "Bully" and "Unity."
Their current single "Enemies" is top 10 and climbing; the song's provocative companion music video can be viewed at http://youtu.be/OoHGZFyMCHU.
Over the course of their illustrious career, SHINEDOWN has scored s16 No. 1 singles (including their current streak of eight consecutive #1 rock radio hits).
P.O.D. (Payable on Death), which has sold more than 10 million albums since it formed in 1992, joins the tour in support of their summer release, "Murdered Love" (Razor & Tie).
The album sees the band reunited with long-time producer Howard Benson who also produced the band's massive Satellite album alongside hit albums for Kelly Clarkson, Theory Of A Deadman, Daughtry, and My Chemical Romance.
P.O.D. 's first single off the album, "Lost In Forever" hit #1 at Active Rock Radio (#1 on BDS) and is their first-ever number one single at the Active Rock format. The band's second single, "Higher," impacted radio two weeks ago and is already charting at Active Rock.
Go online at www.bigsandyarena.com for more info.


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Truman's Beer
When I first moved to London I was very conscious of the fact that many of the pubs I frequented had a dusty old sign above the door or a peeling sticker in the window advertising Truman's beer. I would occasionally hear old men talking affectionately of their ales and would see a closed down pub or two bearing the Truman's Eagle. I started to add things up when I came across the sprawling refurbished hipster metropolis of the Old Truman's Brewery. Once the heart of Europe's biggest brewery. I felt done over. Would I ever taste this elusive brew that at one time seemed to be East London's lifeblood?
Years have past since then. New and old London breweries have emerged and fallen. Much has been drunk and I had largely forgotten of the quest to taste Truman's. Then a couple of weeks ago a friend e-mailed me the website for the new Truman's brand. It appeared that my historical thirst was about to be quenched. Within a couple of days the internet seepage had begun and friends were independently e-mailing the website around too. Funny how that happens these days isn't it? Anyway. The bottom line is that the guys who have dragged the Truman's brand from it's less than graceful demise have promised to furnish the brand with the principles it started it on – Keeping it simple and keeping it local. Sounds good to me.
Their first beer is called Truman's Runner and it's a nice session ale. A real 'folksbeer'. The experienced and polite brewers at Nethergate have made themselves the surrogate home for Truman's until they can find a London premises, but I'm told the recipe is original. It's available in selected pubs on tap in London and will no doubt pick up momentum fast.
Grab a pint and check out their website for an interesting peek at their history.


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As Gov. (Martin) O'Malley prepares to embark on a run for president in 2016, I urge our legislators to be very cautious of spending legislation just to shore up his liberal resume.
We do not need a special $100,000 study on hydraulic fracturing to produce natural gas, as there is over 60 years worth of actual data available. Former Gov. (Ed) Rendell of Pennsylvania has been quoted on the environmentally safe process in that state, which has resulted in over $1.2 billion earned by landowners in the past few years.
Wind farms off the coast of Ocean City are an environmental nightmare and a direct cost added to every electric bill. It harms wildlife, it will be a hazard to mariners, and no study has been done as it pertains to the marine life in that area.
Lawmakers are considering a bill to triple the number of signatures required before a referendum can be placed on the ballot to let the electorate decide, as three of their bills last year were challenged at the voting booth. One party lock on all branches of government is never healthy.
Robert West, Bowie


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Wednesday, October 31, 2012
There is an old axiom that God gave us things to use and people to enjoy. Many people do things the opposite way. They enjoy things and use people.
This is one of the chief reasons why some people are unable to cultivate deep long term relationships. They want to enjoy certain things and in order to do that they use people to get those things.
Make no mistake, no man is an island. No matter who we are we need people. The person who says he doesnt need anyone but God is lying to himself.
We need people at some level in some way. The clothes we wear, the food we eat, the house we live in with its various amenities
and conveniences says we are dependent on others. There is a certain interdependency that is necessary in a civilized society.
The fact that we need people, should by itself tell us the value of people. But we continue to use each other as disposable commodity.
Sometimes we do that because we are afraid of getting close. A person might have become close to one or more persons and got hurt and so they protect themselves by not allowing themselves to get close to others again.
Developing real loving relationships is always worth it. Many of the hurts people feel in relationships is not the product of real love but superficial relationships in which people are more interested in things than in people. The great poet Alfred H. Tennyson declared, Its better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Deep friendships require cultivation. There might be an instant attraction, connection where the like ability factor kicks in immediately, but it takes time to convert that into a real friendship.
Do you have at least one person nearby that is not a family member whom you can call on in times of personal distress, who would put aside everything, he or she is doing to listen to you and encourage you?
Real friendships are worth cultivating because as Ben Jonson puts it, True happiness consists not in the multitude of friends, but in the worth and choice.
The Rev. Valentine Williams is the Pastor of Transforming Life Center Church in Pineville, a motivational speaker, seminar/workshop leader, personal development coach, adjunct instructor and the author of Youth Empowered to Succeed. He is also the president of Williams Speaking and Training Services, a people development organization that conducts professional and personal development training and staff development workshops. For questions, comments or speaking engagements contact him at firstname.lastname@example.com.
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Condoleezza Rice was secretary of state from 2005 to 2009.
The election of the once and future president of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Putin, tempts one to despair that the brief and inspiring political awakening in Russia over the past year was for naught. He has gotten his way — replacing his protege Dmitry Medvedev and reclaiming the Kremlin to solidify authoritarianism and political stagnation.
But this victory may be both Putin's last and the final one for Putinism. The future turns on the behavior of a rising Russian middle class that is integrated into the world and alienated by the Kremlin's corrupt politics.


text: I am a member of the Collective Bias® Social Fabric® Community. This shop about lowest priced unlimited plans has been compensated as part of a social shopper amplification for #CollectiveBias and its advertiser. Hey, remember the Walmart wireless plan I wrote about in this post a few weeks ago? Well, we still have it –… [read more]


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Carl Albert was definitely a "Little Giant" in all he did. Working at the Carl Albert Center, I've learned a lot about the former Speaker of the House. I've heard stories about his accomplishments and his love for his home state. But, hearing the stories second-hand doesn't compare to reading his words, gaining an insight into his thoughts about certain events and people during his 30 years in the House. Albert may have been a "heartbeat away from the presidency" twice in the 1970s, but it was not the position he sought. Putting Oklahoma first, as he always did, he was content to remain where he was, where he could do more for his state and the nation he loved.
The University of Oklahoma Libraries | 401 West Brooks Street, Norman, OK 73019 | (405)325-4142


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TV: Liddle's cup preview
by Stuart Vose
Coach previews U18s' FA Youth Cup test tonight.
Craig Liddle has spoken to SAFC TV in the build-up to the under-18s' FA Youth Cup tie against Manchester City tonight.
The young Black Cats make the trip to the north west looking to put one over on City in a repeat of 2008's semi-final.
Click here to watch the interview in full.


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Register now for free, or sign in with any of these services:
$17,000? I don't blame them. Maybe the League needs to think about what it's giving for that kind of money. Do they know how much work it takes symphony staff and volunteers to come up with $17,000? I've spent hours and hours the last few weeks soliciting donations to a silent auction for my local orchestra (budget about $1 million), and I'm not the only one doing it. If we're lucky we might raise that much I guess. We could buy League membership, or pay our conductor a living wage, or rent music, or pay rent on the facility for a concert…….


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Viewers: in countries Watching now:
A blog is a great way for musicians to tell their story and get the latest news to fans. In this course, Bobby Owsinski dives into giving tips on how to best use blogging to promote your artistry. Learn the pros and cons of different platforms, from WordPress to Tumblr; how to set up your blog and tie it to your website; craft interesting posts; and set up an RSS feed to help your fans subscribe. Bobby even shows you how to make money with your blog using AdSense and other affiliate programs.
Hi, I'm Bobby Owsinski, in this course I will show you all about the various blog platforms. Why some blogs succeed while others fail. The best way to implement your blog including design, RSS feeds and the auxiliary apps now required to run a successful blog. How to craft blog post that your fans really want to read, how to promote your blog and how your blog can actually make you money.
Well you can learn a lot just by watching these videos. Where you'll really learn is by actually doing it. So make sure that you follow up. Now let's get down to business.
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there are so many tictoc clocks everywhere telling people what toctic time it is for tictic instance five toc minutes toc past six tic Spring is not regulated and does not get out of order nor do its hands a little jerking move over numbers slowly we do not wind it up it has no weights springs wheels inside of its slender self no indeed dear nothing of the kind. (So,when kiss Spring comes we'll kiss each kiss other on kiss the kiss lips because tic clocks toc don't make a toctic difference to kisskiss you and to kiss me)
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
I Like a gondola of green scented fruits Drifting along the dank canals of Venice, You, O exquisite one, Have entered into my desolate city. II The blue smoke leaps Like swirling clouds of birds vanishing. So my love leaps forth toward you, Vanishes and is renewed. III A rose-yellow moon in a pale sky When the sunset is faint vermilion In the mist among the tree-boughs Art thou to me, my beloved. IV A young beech tree on the edge of the forest Stands still in the evening, Yet shudders through all its leaves in the light air And seems to fear the stars— So are you still and so tremble. V The red deer are high on the mountain, They are beyond the last pine trees. And my desires have run with them. VI The flower which the wind has shaken Is soon filled again with rain; So does my heart fill slowly with tears, O Foam-Driver, Wind-of-the-Vineyards, Until you return.
10 maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea
I rose from marsh mud, algae, equisetum, willows, sweet green, noisy birds and frogs to see her wed in the rich rich silence of the church, the little white slave-girl in her diamond fronds. In aisle and arch the satin secret collects. United for life to serve silver. Possessed.
A silver Lucifer serves cocaine in cornucopia To some somnambulists of adolescent thighs draped in satirical draperies Peris in livery prepare Lethe for posthumous parvenues Delirious Avenues lit with the chandelier souls of infusoria from Pharoah's tombstones lead to mercurial doomsdays Odious oasis in furrowed phosphorous--- the eye-white sky-light white-light district of lunar lusts ---Stellectric signs "Wing shows on Starway" "Zodiac carrousel" Cyclones of ecstatic dust and ashes whirl crusaders from hallucinatory citadels of shattered glass into evacuate craters A flock of dreams browse on Necropolis From the shores of oval oceans in the oxidized Orient Onyx-eyed Odalisques and ornithologists observe the flight of Eros obsolete And "Immortality" mildews... in the museums of the moon "Nocturnal cyclops" "Crystal concubine" ------- Pocked with personification the fossil virgin of the skies waxes and wanes----
Your breath was shed Invisible to make About the soiled undead Night for my sake, A raining trail Intangible to them With biter's tooth and tail And cobweb drum, A dark as deep My love as a round wave To hide the wolves of sleep And mask the grave.
O You, Who came upon me once Stretched under apple-trees just after bathing, Why did you not strangle me before speaking Rather than fill me with the wild white honey of your words And then leave me to the mercy Of the forest bees.
Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue. In a drafty museum, your nakedness Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls. I'm no more your mother Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow Effacement at the wind's hand. All night your moth-breath Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen: A far sea moves in my ear. One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral In my Victorian nightgown. Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try Your handful of notes; The clear vowels rise like balloons.
I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it-- A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin O my enemy. Do I terrify?-- The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see Them unwrap me hand and foot-- The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call. It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout: 'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart-- It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash-- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there-- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.
23-29 October 1962
The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough.
Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.
For Carl Solomon
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz, who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated, who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war, who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull, who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall, who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York, who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls, incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between, Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind, who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo, who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox, who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge, a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills of Empire State out of the moon, yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars, whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement, who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall, suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room, who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts, who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night, who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas, who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels, who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy, who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain, who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa, who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago, who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets, who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed, who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons, who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication, who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts, who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy, who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love, who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may, who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword, who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom. who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness, who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake, who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver--joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses' rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too, who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices, who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steamheat and opium, who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion, who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery, who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music, who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology, who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom, who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg, who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade, who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried, who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality, who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer, who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles, who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to the each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation, who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity, who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes, who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second, who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz, who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave, who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury, who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy, and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia, who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia, returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East, Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon, with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 a.m. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination-- ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time-- and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane, who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head, the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death, and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.
What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination? Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks! Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men! Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments! Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb! Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities! Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind! Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch! Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky! Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible mad houses granite cocks! monstrous bombs! They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us! Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river! Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit! Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time! Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
The Stoli bottle's frost melts to brilliance where I press my fingers. Evidence. Proof I'm here, drunk in your lamplit kitchen, breathing up your rented air, no intention of leaving. Our lust squats blunt as a brick on the table between us. We're low on vocabulary. We're vodkaquiet. Vodkadeliquescent. Vodka doesn't like theatrics: it walks into your midnight bedroom already naked, slips in beside you, takes your shoulders in its icy hands and shoves. Is that a burglar at the window? No, he lives with me, actually. Well, let him in for Christ's sake, let's actually get this over with.
I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what's underneath. I want to walk down the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store with all those keys glittering in the window, past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. I want to walk like I'm the only woman on earth and I can have my pick. I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm your worst fears about me, to show you how little I care about you or anything except what I want. When I find it, I'll pull that garment from its hanger like I'm choosing a body to carry me into this world, through the birth-cries and the love-cries too, and I'll wear it like bones, like skin, it'll be the goddamned dress they bury me in.
The scent of hyacinths, like a pale mist, lies between me and my book; And the South Wind, washing through the room, Makes the candles quiver. My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter, And I am uneasy with the thrusting of green shoots Outside, in the night. Why are you not here to overpower me with your tense and urgent love?
The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air.
The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub in lathes and planes of greenish-white. It cleaves the water into flaws like a jewel, and cracks it to bright light.
Little spots of sunshine lie on the surface of the water and dance, dance, and their reflections wobble deliciously over the ceiling; a stir of my finger sets them whirring, reeling. I move a foot and the planes of light in the water jar. I lie back and laugh, and let the green-white water, the sun-flawed beryl water, flow over me. The day is almost too bright to bear, the green water covers me from the too bright day. I will lie here awhile and play with the water and the sun spots. The sky is blue and high. A crow flaps by the window, and there is a whiff of tulips and narcissus in the air.
I Our meeting was like the upward swish of a rocket In the blue night. I do not know when it burst; But now I stand gaping, In a glory of falling stars. II Hola! Hola! shouts the crowd, as the catherine-wheels sputter and turn. Hola! They cheer the flower-pots and set pieces. And nobody heeds the cries of a young man in shirt-sleeves, Who has burnt his fingers setting them off. III A King and Queen, and a couple of Generals, Flame in colored lights; Putting out the stars, And making a great glare over the people wandering among the booths. They are very beautiful and impressive, And all the people say "Ah!" By and by they begin to go out, Little by little. The King's crown goes first, Then his eyes, Then his nose and chin. The Queen goes out from the bottom up, Until only the topmost jewel of her tiara is left. Then that, too, goes; And there is nothing but a frame of twisted wires, With the stars twinkling through it.
You are ice and fire, The touch of you burns my hands like snow. You are cold and flame. You are the crimson of amaryllis, The silver of moon-touched magnolias. When I am with you, My heart is a frozen pond Gleaming with agitated torches.
If I could catch the green lantern of the firefly I could see to write you a letter.
Long over, what's on the tree shivers. Sky hides behind white-faced, giving flesh to branch, a red leaf or yellow far enough away, what Broch called ''the style of old age," simplified of images, lean in the perfection of the bough, naked & half-undone. Clouds break, rain against a hidden sun, the form plain
They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent. All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs. The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of the sea! And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages on the depths of the seven seas, and through the salt they reel with drunk delight and in the tropics tremble they with love and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods. Then the great bull lies up against his bride in the blue deep bed of the sea, as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life: and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and comes to rest in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's fathomless body. And over the bridge of the whale's strong phallus, linking the wonder of whales the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and forth, keep passing, archangels of bliss from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the sea great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies. And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale- tender young and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of the beginning and the end. And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat encircling their huddled monsters of love. And all this happens in the sea, in the salt where God is also love, but without words: and Aphrodite is the wife of whales most happy, happy she! and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea she is the female tunny-fish, round and happy among the males and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.
There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.
See the stars, love, In the water much clearer and brighter Than those above us, and whiter, Like nenuphars. Star-shadows shine, love, How many stars in your bowl? How many shadows in your soul, Only mine, love, mine? When I move the oars, love, See how the stars are tossed, Distorted, the brightest lost. —So that bright one of yours, love. The poor waters spill The stars, waters broken, forsaken. —The heavens are not shaken, you say, love, Its stars stand still. There, did you see That spark fly up at us; even Stars are not safe in heaven. —What of yours, then, love, yours? What then, love, if soon Your light be tossed over a wave? Will you count the darkness a grave, And swoon, love, swoon?
The dawn was apple-green, The sky was green wine held up in the sun, The moon was a golden petal between. She opened her eyes, and green They shone, clear like flowers undone For the first time, now for the first time seen.
A fountain's pulsing sobs--like this my blood Measures its flowing, so it sometimes seems. I hear a gentle murmur as it streams; Where the wound lies I've never understood. Like water meadows, boulevards are flooded. Cobblestones, crisscrossed by scarlet rills, Are islands; creatures come and drink their fill. Nothing in nature now remains unblooded. I used to hope that wine could bring me ease, Could lull asleep my deeply gnawing mind. I was a fool: the senses clear with wine. I looked to Love to cure my old disease. Love led me to a thicket of IVs Where bristling needles thirsted for each vein.
When you go to sleep, my gloomy beauty, below a black marble monument, when from alcove and manor you are reduced to damp vault and hollow grave;
when the stone—pressing on your timorous chest and sides already lulled by a charmed indifference—halts your heart from beating, from willing, your feet from their bold adventuring,
then the tomb, confidant to my infinite dream (since the tomb understands the poet always), through those long nights in which slumber is banished,
will say to you: "What does it profit you, imperfect courtisan, not to have known what the dead weep for?" —And the worm will gnaw at your hide like remorse.
It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard. Those fleas that escaped earth and fire died by the cold.
The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go or driven like hail stream bitterly out to one side and fall where the salvias, hard carmine,— like no leaf that ever was— edge the bare garden.
What have I to say to you When we shall meet? Yet— I lie here thinking of you. The stain of love Is upon the world. Yellow, yellow, yellow, It eats into the leaves, Smears with saffron The horned branches that lean Heavily Against a smooth purple sky. There is no light— Only a honey-thick stain That drips from leaf to leaf And limb to limb Spoiling the colours Of the whole world. I am alone. The weight of love Has buoyed me up Till my head Knocks against the sky. See me! My hair is dripping with nectar— Starlings carry it On their black wings. See, at last My arms and my hands Are lying idle. How can I tell If I shall ever love you again As I do now?
year-worn weary to the bone, dancing in the dark with the dark, the Suicide Kid gone gray. ah, the swift summers over and gone forever! is that death stalking me now? no, it's only my cat, this time.
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota, Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass. And the eyes of those two Indian ponies Darken with kindness. They have come gladly out of the willows To welcome my friend and me. We step over the barbed wire into the pasture Where they have been grazing all day, alone. They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness That we have come. They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other. There is no loneliness like theirs. At home once more, They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness. I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms, For she has walked over to me And nuzzled my left hand. She is black and white, Her mane falls wild on her forehead, And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist. Suddenly I realize That if I stepped out of my body I would break Into blossom.
Poetry Valentines Browse all six free cards
It is the time of rain and snow I spend sleepless nights And watch the frost Frail as your love Gathers in the dawn.
Ah! sunflower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun, Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller's journey is done; Where the youth pined away with desire, And the pale virgin shrouded in snow, Arise from their graves and aspire; Where my sunflower wishes to go.
The red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of love; O, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove. But I send you a cream-white rosebud With a flush on its petal tips; For the love that is purest and sweetest Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
I know I am but summer to your heart, And not the full four seasons of the year; And you must welcome from another part Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear. No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing; And I have loved you all too long and well To carry still the high sweet breast of Spring. Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes, I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums, That you may hail anew the bird and rose When I come back to you, as summer comes. Else will you seek, at some not distant time, Even your summer in another clime.
My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— It gives a lovely light!
A while back, if I remember right, my life was one long party where all hearts were open wide, where all wines kept flowing.
One night, I sat Beauty down on my lap.—And I found her galling.—And I roughed her up.
I armed myself against justice.
I ran away. O witches, O misery, O hatred, my treasure's been turned over to you!
I managed to make every trace of human hope vanish from my mind. I pounced on every joy like a ferocious animal eager to strangle it.
I called for executioners so that, while dying, I could bite the butts of their rifles. I called for plagues to choke me with sand, with blood. Bad luck was my god. I stretched out in the muck. I dried myself in the air of crime. And I played tricks on insanity.
And Spring brought me the frightening laugh of the idiot.
So, just recently, when I found myself on the brink of the final squawk! it dawned on me to look again for the key to that ancient party where I might find my appetite once more.
Charity is that key.—This inspiration proves I was dreaming!
"You'll always be a hyena etc. . . ," yells the devil, who'd crowned me with such pretty poppies. "Deserve death with all your appetites, your selfishness, and all the capital sins!"
Ah! I've been through too much:-But, sweet Satan, I beg of you, a less blazing eye! and while waiting for the new little cowardly gestures yet to come, since you like an absence of descriptive or didactic skills in a writer, let me rip out these few ghastly pages from my notebook of the damned.
Graceful son of Pan! Around your forehead crowned with small flowers and berries, your eyes, precious spheres, are moving. Spotted with brownish wine lees, your cheeks grow hollow. Your fangs are gleaming. Your chest is like a lyre, jingling sounds circulate between your blond arms. Your heart beats in that belly where the double sex sleeps. Walk at night, gently moving that thigh, that second thigh and that left leg.
From childhood's hour I have not been As others were--I have not seen As others saw--I could not bring My passions from a common spring-- From the same source I have not taken My sorrow--I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone-- And all I lov'd--I lov'd alone-- Then--in my childhood--in the dawn Of a most stormy life--was drawn From ev'ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still-- From the torrent, or the fountain-- From the red cliff of the mountain-- From the sun that 'round me roll'd In its autumn tint of gold-- From the lightning in the sky As it pass'd me flying by-- From the thunder, and the storm-- And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view--
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold
February, peeved at Paris, pours a gloomy torrent on the pale lessees of the graveyard next door and a mortal chill on tenants of the foggy suburbs too. The tiles afford no comfort to my cat that cannot keep its mangy body still; the soul of some old poet haunts the drains and howls as if a ghost could hate the cold. A churchbell grieves, a log in the fireplace smokes and hums falsetto to the clock's catarrh, while in a filthy reeking deck of cards inherited from a dropsical old maid, the dapper Knave of Hearts and the Queen of Spades grimly disinter their love affairs.
Souvenirs? More than if I had lived a thousand years! No chest of drawers crammed with documents, love-letters, wedding-invitations, wills, a lock of someone's hair rolled up in a deed, hides so many secrets as my brain. This branching catacombs, this pyramid contains more corpses than the potter's field: I am a graveyard that the moon abhors, where long worms like regrets come out to feed most ravenously on my dearest dead. I am an old boudoir where a rack of gowns, perfumed by withered roses, rots to dust; where only faint pastels and pale Bouchers inhale the scent of long-unstoppered flasks. Nothing is slower than the limping days when under the heavy weather of the years Boredom, the fruit of glum indifference, gains the dimension of eternity . . . Hereafter, mortal clay, you are no more than a rock encircled by a nameless dread, an ancient sphinx omitted from the map, forgotten by the world, and whose fierce moods sing only to the rays of setting suns.
I'm like the king of a rainy country, rich but helpless, decrepit though still a young man who scorns his fawning tutors, wastes his time on dogs and other animals, and has no fun; nothing distracts him, neither hawk nor hound nor subjects starving at the palace gate. His favorite fool's obscenities fall flat --the royal invalid is not amused-- and ladies in waiting for a princely nod no longer dress indecently enough to win a smile from this young skeleton. The bed of state becomes a stately tomb. The alchemist who brews him gold has failed to purge the impure substance from his soul, and baths of blood, Rome's legacy recalled by certain barons in their failing days, are useless to revive this sickly flesh through which no blood but brackish Lethe seeps.
When skies are low and heavy as a lid over the mind tormented by disgust, and hidden in the gloom the sun pours down on us a daylight dingier than the dark; when earth becomes a trickling dungeon where Trust like a bat keeps lunging through the air, beating tentative wings along the walls and bumping its head against the rotten beams; when rain falls straight from unrelenting clouds, forging the bars of some enormous jail, and silent hordes of obscene spiders spin their webs across the basements of our brains; then all at once the raging bells break loose, hurling to heaven their awful caterwaul, like homeless ghosts with no one left to haunt whimpering their endless grievances. --And giant hearses, without dirge or drums, parade at half-step in my soul, where Hope, defeated, weeps, and the oppressor Dread plants his black flag on my assenting skull.
The light of a candle is transferred to another candle— spring twilight.
after jorge luis borges a yellow rose in a hotel glass the man had kissed her on the neck had kissed her on the mouth but these kisses belonged to yesterday there would be no moment of revernalization yellow roses came from china open in may before our hybrids unfold pink rugosities and baroque scent expose dusty fissured yellow pearls
O my luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June; O my luve's like the melodie That's sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun: O I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only luve, And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile.


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Recognizing the increasing need for specialization, the University of Miami School of Law offers targeted curricula leading to certificates in key practice areas. A certificate program is a formal course of study within the curriculum that is similar to a college major. Successful completion of a certificate program demonstrates to potential employers a student's commitment to the practice area.
At Miami Law, we offer Certificate Programs in the following areas of concentration:
1. The Business and Financial Law Certificate program: This program enables students to focus their studies in preparation for assisting clients undertaking sophisticated business, commercial and financial transactions.
2. The International Law Certificate Program: Students who are planning to work in the areas of international business transactions, international arbitration, transnational litigation, international human rights, international development, or whose practice is likely to involve the law of another country, should consider this curriculum choice.
3. The Employment, Labor and Immigration Law Certificate Program: Students who are planning to counsel large or small businesses, or serve as in-house counsel, as well as those who will work with unions or represent individual employees should consider this curriculum choice.
4. Litigation Specialization Certificate Program: Students thinking seriously about becoming a litigator/trial lawyer should consider the Litigation Specialization Certificate Program. The certificate is structured to provide the opportunity for a law student to become the best practice-ready litigator/trial lawyer that any law school education can produce.
Brendan Corrigan discusses his experience in our joint degree program in law and public administration and how this master's complements a law degree. He also expands on how someone can use these combined degrees for career choices.


text:
Fireflies Tour aims to break £1 million fundraising barrier as it celebrates 10th edition
Custom Colnago frames mark decade of raising money to fight leukaemia
A group of riders drawn mainly from the film and advertising industries are gearing up to take part in the 10th annual Fireflies Tour that will see them cycle 1,000 kilometres through the Alps from Geneva to Cannes with the aim of taking the amount they have raised for a cancer charity to beyond the £1,000,000 mark. What's more, they'll be doing it on some rather gorgeous, custom-painted Colnago bikes.
The first Fireflies Tour – although it wouldn't acquire that name until later, as explained below – took place in 2001 when five cyclists rode through the French Alps to raise money for the Catherine Lewis Centre at London's Hammersmith Hospital, raising an impressive £100,000 between them. Since then, the sponsorship total has risen to £800,000, bringing the magical seven-figure barrier into sight.
The challenge, whose motto is "For those who suffer, we ride," was dreamt up by Jake Scott, Adrian Moat, Nick Livesey, all directors at Ridley Scott Associates Films. That trio was joined on the inaugural ride by Tim Page, head of TV at Young & Rubicam, and ski instructor, Chris Haworth, who given his knowledge of the mountains, helped develop the route.
The end of the ride was timed to coincide with the Cannes Lions Film Festival, which is focused on young, up-and-coming directors and crew and the film advertising industry, as it has done each year since.
The following year, nine cyclists took part, and each year since then, the numbers have swelled to the point that when this year's ride gets under way on 15th June, there will be no fewer than 60 people setting off on the full itinerary, which takes in some of the classic Alpine climbs made famous by the Tour de France, and on the way they'll be joined by a further 90 cyclists taking in parts of the route.
Each rider commits to raising £2,000 sponsorship for Leuka, a charity based at Hammersmith hospital that facilitates research into leukaemia.
So, why the Fireflies Tour? Well, there's a story behind the name, and it's a pretty evocative one too. "One night on the second year we had to descend the final mountain, Col de Turini in the dark," explain the organisers.
"The moon was hidden and none of us had lights. As we entered the forest it became virtually impossible to see. Suddenly thousands upon thousands of Fireflies appeared, hovering above the road, as if to guide us through the darkness. It was the most magical thing you've ever seen. As we came upon the first town light they vanished and we were safe."
That alone would make for an interesting backstory, but there's more: "What's incredible is the gene that allows fireflies to glow is helping researchers track the effectiveness of anti-cancer drugs. Much like it helped us descend the mountain."
Unsurprisingly, given the founders' pedigree, the action has been captured on film – the 2006 ride was showcased in a 70 minute film entitled Safety in Numbers, which is available from Amazon for £7.99, while footage of last year's ride has been posted to the video-sharing site, Vimeo, and appears at the end of this article.
To mark the tenth anniversary of the Fireflies Ride, custom-painted Colnago bikes have been secured through the help of Peter Nisbet, managing director of Windwave, the Italian marque's UK importer.
According to the blog thewashingmachinepost, the project was sanctioned by Ernesto Colnago himself and the first batch of bikes, the EPS for those who favour carbon and the Master X Light for those who prefer steel, was delivered on Friday 28th May at the Rapha Café in Clerkenwell, London.
Anyone interested in acquiring a Colnago Fireflies can find out more information by email.
Full information on the Fireflies Tour and the history behind it can be found on its website, where you can also make a donation to help the team reach their target.
DAY 1 - THE FIREFLIES RIDE 2009 from CYCLEFILM on Vimeo.
DAY 2 - THE FIREFLIES RIDE 2009 from CYCLEFILM on Vimeo.
DAY 3 - THE FIREFLIES RIDE 2009 from CYCLEFILM on Vimeo.
GALIBIER - THE FIREFLIES RIDE 2009 from CYCLEFILM on Vimeo.
DAY 4 REST - THE FIREFLIES RIDE 2009 from CYCLEFILM on Vimeo.
DAY 6 - THE FIREFLIES RIDE 2009 from CYCLEFILM on Vimeo.