What bores you?
I believe boredom is the product of a weak mind.
There’s always something noteworthy happening. It just sometimes takes more mental energy and broadened interests to experience it.
PROMPT: Boredom
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Tattered Moth [Haiku]
a moth, wings tattered,
basks in the canopy-
breaching spotlight.
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BOOKS: “Batwing, Vol. 1: The Lost Kingdom” by Judd Winick
Batwing, Vol. 1: The Lost Kingdom by Judd WinickMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Amazon.in page
This New 52 spinoff takes the Batman mythos out of Gotham and into the Democratic Republic of Congo. Batman, himself, plays largely a supporting role as mentor and equipment provider to David Zavimbe, a.k.a. Batwing. The book is careful to avoid having Batman play the role of rescuer, but instead, when Batwing and Batman fight together they do so largely as peers.
I’ve got to say that the name had me worried. It’s like a mashup of “Batman” and “Nightwing” and seems lazy and uninspired in a way that I feared might infect the comic. However, character building is a strength in this volume. David Zavimbe is a former child soldier in the Congo, particularly gifted in killing — though tormented by it, torment that reflects itself in PTSD.
While Batwing’s abilities paired with Bruce Wayne’s technology makes the Congolese superhero a force to be reckoned with, Batwing meets his match in a mysterious villain who calls himself “Massacre.” This six-issue volume focuses on the on-going battle between Batwing and Massacre, as the former tries to disrupt the latter’s killing spree.
This arc is stimulating in that it deals heavily in the complex realities of war-torn Africa. There is the issue of redemption, and whether it is even possible for someone who has been a cold-blooded killer. But the story also generates ambiguity about who is right, and even whether “right” is meaningful in a context where everyone has blood on his hands.
I enjoyed reading this book and would recommend it for all comic book readers, especially those who like either Batman, Black Panther, or both.
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DAILY PHOTO: Kho Ku So Bamboo Bridge – Post-Harvest
“The Splendour Falls” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson [w/ Audio]
The splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits in old story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying,
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PROMPT: Drink
What is your favorite drink?
If amount consumed is any indication, that would have to be water – with coffee as a second runner up. And the rest of the pack is a muddled mess in which no one stands out, judging from the fact that the aforementioned are the only beverages that I drink on a daily basis. (Gin or beer are at most once a week beverages and average less than that, if this was meant to imply alcoholic drinks.)
Certainly, water is the only one that I: a.) can’t do without, and b.) could live a comfortable and healthy life drinking exclusively.
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World Writ Minimalist [Kyōka]
sunrise paints the haze
the color of campfire flames,
and nothing looks real,
but rather like a painting
by an artist, skilled & lazy.
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Pleasant Valley [Lyric Poem]
In the narrow valley
Traversed by a cool stream,
Life is but a pleasant,
And ever shady, dream.
Feet within the waters,
But mind up in the sky,
Nothing can upend one,
Nor kill what cannot die.
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DAILY PHOTO: More Scenes from Santichon Village, Thailand
“Treading on Grass” by He Zhu [w/ Audio]
On winding pool with willows dim,
At narrow strait the lovebirds swim.
Green duckweeds float,
Barring the lotus-picking boat.
Nor butterflies nor bees
Love fragrance from the withered trees.
When her red petals fall apart,
The lotus bloom 's bitter at heart.
The setting sun greets rising tide,
The floating clouds bring rain.
The swaying lotus seems to confide,
Her sorrow to the poet in vain.
Then she would not be wed to vernal breeze.
What could she do now autumn drives away wild geese?
Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, p.226.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 