I listened to a compact disc of birdsong, upon which the sound of the song sparrow always captures my imagination. I fancy that on the Lake Ray Roberts Greenbelt Trail I heard a song sparrow this Summer. I thought to myself of pithy sayings, such as the fact that a house sparrow is neither a house nor a sparrow, but tihs kind of pith, if pith is the word, requires a kind of absorption in sparrowness I find far too much of a lark to adopt.
I picked up an MP3 player tonight at the Fry's electronics store, having missed the "cheaper than cheap" sale items in the Labor Day frenzy, but settling on an economical and morally correct 1GB system at a reasonable price, for a good, solid travel unit. I've been downloading and saving various Creaive Commons works I enjoy to get the player initiated in good order. I really like a short bit of classical-influenced material,
Marco Raaphorst, "Blowing Snow", on disfish.com.
I like about short weeks that they are not as long as long weeks. I have had five sheepish moments about essentially nothing at all, except the mild resonance in my imagination with which my mind confronts worry about communicative interactions, in this medium or that, except that, as of this moment, I am listening to Peter Koniuto's wonderful album "past andromeda" (an amazing free ambient download on stasisfield.com), and cannot really be bothered.