Dry January Quotes

The days will rally, wreathing Their crazy tarantelle; And you must go on breathing, But I'll be safe in hell. Like January weather, The years will bite and smart, And pull your bones together To wrap your chattering heart. The pretty stuff you're made of Will crack and crease and dry. The thing you are afraid of Will look from every eye. You will go faltering after The bright, imperious line, And split your throat on laughter, And burn your eyes with brine. You will be frail and musty With peering, furtive head, Whilst I am young and lusty Among the roaring dead.

When I was younger I cried over everything from sneers to sad endings, and even once over a puddle of tadpoles that dried up in the sun, but at some point I learned the trick of stoicism: you hide. You pull yourself inside your castle walls and crank up the drawbridge and watch everything from the tallest tower.

Now I sat in my room, face swollen and eyes dry, teetering on the edge of a pain so vast I couldn't see its edges. It would swallow me whole, if I let it.

LIFE HACK #639: Try ‘Dry January’. Every time your mouth feels a little dry, fill it with gin!

Lady, that soft skin, Your bones and mine Will all be dust Before another mountain’s raised. No oceans, Not a river, Hardly a stream Will dry Before our eyes do, And our hearts. – But should I love you less, For such ephemerality? – I think the more instead. For our love’s in the real world; Profane and carnal, at times banal, But in our human sight, sublime. No greater, but quite different To dying suns and levelled range compared We share from our two separate selves A happenstance understanding, An unfateful fate, Designed by, decreed by nothing, Ungiven, not granted, But ours the more for that, The thing no thing can ever learn, The first and final lesson: Mortality is a quality of life. (January–February 1979)

In January 2006, Phantom of The Opera broke the record for the longest-running show in Broadway history, overtaking Cats and reminding us what real entertainment is about: candles, dry ice, big hair, and the sort of synthesized chord progressions only achieved by a collapse at the keyboard.

The summer,' Randy explained. 'I'm going to appreciate it. I'm going to walk in the woods noticing everything, and ride my bike on all the roads I never explored. I'm going to fill a pillow with ladies' tobacco so I can smell it in January and remember about August. I'm going to dry a big bunch of pennyroyal so I can break pieces off all winter and think of summer. I'm going to look at everything, and smell everything, and listen to everything so I'll never forget --

There are empires upon which the sun will never set, railways that cross continents, rivers of wealth that will never run dry, machines that never grow tired. It’s a system too vast and ravenous to ever be dismantled, like a deity or an engine, which swallows men and women whole and belches black smoke into the sky. Its name is Modernity, I am told, and it carries Progress and Prosperity in its coal-fired belly—but I see only rigidity, repression, a chilling resistance to change. I believe I already know what happens to a world without doors.

The North Korean capital, Pyongyang, is a city consecrated to the worship of a father-son dynasty. (I came to think of them, with their nuclear-family implications, as 'Fat Man and Little Boy.') And a river runs through it. And on this river, the Taedong River, is moored the only American naval vessel in captivity. It was in January 1968 that the U.S.S. Pueblo strayed into North Korean waters, and was boarded and captured. One sailor was killed; the rest were held for nearly a year before being released. I looked over the spy ship, its radio antennae and surveillance equipment still intact, and found photographs of the captain and crew with their hands on their heads in gestures of abject surrender. Copies of their groveling 'confessions,' written in tremulous script, were also on show. So was a humiliating document from the United States government, admitting wrongdoing in the penetration of North Korean waters and petitioning the 'D.P.R.K.' (Democratic People's Republic of Korea) for 'lenience.' Kim Il Sung ('Fat Man') was eventually lenient about the men, but not about the ship. Madeleine Albright didn't ask to see the vessel on her visit last October, during which she described the gruesome, depopulated vistas of Pyongyang as 'beautiful.' As I got back onto the wharf, I noticed a refreshment cart, staffed by two women under a frayed umbrella. It didn't look like much—one of its three wheels was missing and a piece of brick was propping it up—but it was the only such cart I'd see. What toothsome local snacks might the ladies be offering? The choices turned out to be slices of dry bread and cups of warm water. Nor did Madeleine Albright visit the absurdly misnamed 'Demilitarized Zone,' one of the most heavily militarized strips of land on earth. Across the waist of the Korean peninsula lies a wasteland, roughly following the 38th parallel, and packed with a titanic concentration of potential violence. It is four kilometers wide (I have now looked apprehensively at it from both sides) and very near to the capital cities of both North and South. On the day I spent on the northern side, I met a group of aging Chinese veterans, all from Szechuan, touring the old battlefields and reliving a war they helped North Korea nearly win (China sacrificed perhaps a million soldiers in that campaign, including Mao Anying, son of Mao himself). Across the frontier are 37,000 United States soldiers. Their arsenal, which has included undeclared nuclear weapons, is the reason given by Washington for its refusal to sign the land-mines treaty. In August 1976, U.S. officers entered the neutral zone to trim a tree that was obscuring the view of an observation post. A posse of North Koreans came after them, and one, seizing the ax with which the trimming was to be done, hacked two U.S. servicemen to death with it. I visited the ax also; it's proudly displayed in a glass case on the North Korean side.

My feet stopped their churning only once they realized the dirt beneath them had turned to laid-over grasses. I found myself in a lonely, overgrown field beneath a sky so blue it reminded me of the tiles my father brought back from Persia: a majestic, world-swallowing blue you could fall into. Tall, rust-colored grasses rolled beneath it, and a few scattered cedars spiraled up toward it. Something in the shape of the scene- the rich smell of dry cedar in the sun, the grass swaying against the sky like a tigress in orange and blue- made me want to curl into the dry stems like a fawn waiting for her mother. I waded deeper, wandering, letting my hands trail through the frilled tops of wild grains.

January snow lay thick on the ground—crusty, pitted, and hardened, some of it like the bubbly honeycomb of air-dried sea foam in the tide wrack down at the beach, the sort of snow that stays so long you get used to the intrusion of that world of uninvited white, a hooded subverted landscape, sparkling in the low flame of a sallow sunrise on a winter morning.

And so that night, lying half-heartbroken and lost in her bed, Ade chose to believe. She believed in something mad and elsewise, in the feel of the boy’s dry lips against hers in the dying light, in the possibility that there were cracked-open places in the world through which strange and wonderful things might seep. In believing, Ade felt the scattered uncertainties of her youth falling away. She was a hound that finally caught the scent it sought, a lost sailor suddenly handed a compass. If doors were real, then she would seek them out, ten or ten thousand of them, and fall through into ten thousand vast elsewheres.

On the labour front in 1919 there was an unprecedented number of strikes involving many millions of workers. One of the lager strikes was mounted by the AF of L against the United States Steel Corporation. At that time workers in the steel industry put in an average sixty-eight-hour week for bare subsistence wages. The strike spread to other plants, resulting in considerable violence -- the death of eighteen striking workers, the calling out of troops to disperse picket lines, and so forth. By branding the strikers Bolsheviks and thereby separating them from their public support, the Corporation broke the strike. In Boston, the Police Department went on strike and governor Calvin Coolidge replaced them. In Seattle there was a general strike which precipitated a nationwide 'red scare'. this was the first red scare. Sixteen bombs were found in the New York Post Office just before May Day. The bombs were addressed to men prominent in American life, including John D. Rockefeller and Attorney General Mitchell Palmer. It is not clear today who was responsible for those bombs -- Red terrorists, Black anarchists, or their enemies -- but the effect was the same. Other bombs pooped off all spring, damaging property, killing and maiming innocent people, and the nation responded with an alarm against Reds. It was feared that at in Russia, they were about to take over the country and shove large cocks into everyone's mother. Strike that. The Press exacerbated public feeling. May Day parades in the big cities were attacked by policemen, and soldiers and sailors. The American Legion, just founded, raided IWW headquarters in the State of Washington. Laws against seditious speech were passed in State Legislatures across the country and thousands of people were jailed, including a Socialist Congressman from Milwaukee who was sentenced to twenty years in prison. To say nothing of the Espionage and Sedition Acts of 1917 which took care of thousands more. To say nothing of Eugene V. Debs. On the evening of 2 January 1920, Attorney General Palmer, who had his eye on the White House, organized a Federal raid on Communist Party offices throughout the nation. With his right-hand assistant, J. Edgar Hoover, at his right hand, Palmer effected the arrest of over six thousand people, some Communist aliens, some just aliens, some just Communists, and some neither Communists nor aliens but persons visiting those who had been arrested. Property was confiscated, people chained together, handcuffed, and paraded through the streets (in Boston), or kept in corridors of Federal buildings for eight days without food or proper sanitation (in Detroit). Many historians have noted this phenomenon. The raids made an undoubted contribution to the wave of vigilantism winch broke over the country. The Ku Klux Klan blossomed throughout the South and West. There were night raidings, floggings, public hangings, and burnings. Over seventy Negroes were lynched in 1919, not a few of them war veterans. There were speeches against 'foreign ideologies' and much talk about 'one hundred per cent Americanism'. The teaching of evolution in the schools of Tennessee was outlawed. Elsewhere textbooks were repudiated that were not sufficiently patriotic. New immigration laws made racial distinctions and set stringent quotas. Jews were charged with international conspiracy and Catholics with trying to bring the Pope to America. The country would soon go dry, thus creating large-scale, organized crime in the US. The White Sox threw the Series to the Cincinnati Reds. And the stage was set for the trial of two Italian-born anarchists, N. Sacco and B. Vanzetti, for the alleged murder of a paymaster in South Braintree, Mass. The story of the trial is well known and often noted by historians and need not be recounted here. To nothing of World War II--

Or awa’ upon Islay, in January, the wind was honed to a cutting edge across the queer flatness of Loch Gorm and the strand and fields ’round. The roe deer had taken shelter in good time and the brown trout had sought deeper waters. An auld ram alone huddled against the wind, that had swept clear the skies even of eagle, windcuffer, and goose. The scent of saltwater rode the wind over the freshwater loch, and the dry field-grasses rattled, and there was the memory of peat upon the air: a whisky wind in Islay. The River Leòig was forced back upon itself as the wind whipped the loch to whitecaps; only the cairn and the Standing Stones stood unyielding in the blast as of old.

sandy-haired, friendly, smiling, small-town attorney of Pennington, had been born in 1950 in a roach-infested Newark slum. His father had been a construction worker fully employed through World War II and Korea creating new factories, dockyards and government offices along the Jersey Shore. But with the ending of the Korean War, work had dried up. Cal was five when his mother walked out of the loveless union and left the boy to be raised by his father. The latter was a hard man, quick with his fists, the only law on many blue-collar jobs. But he was not a bad man and tried to live by the straight and narrow, and to raise his toddler son to love Old Glory, the Constitution and Joe DiMaggio. Within two years, Dexter Senior had acquired a trailer home so that he could move where the work was available. And that was how the boy was raised, moving from construction site to site, attending whichever school would take him, and then moving on. It was the age of Elvis Presley, Del Shannon, Roy Orbison and the Beatles, over from a country Cal had never heard of. It was also the age of Kennedy, the Cold War and Vietnam. His formal education was fractured to the point of near nonexistence, but he became wise in other ways: streetwise, fight-wise. Like his departed mother, he did not grow tall, topping out at five feet eight inches. Nor was he heavy and muscular like his father, but his lean frame packed fearsome stamina and his fists a killer punch. By seventeen, it looked as if his life would follow that of his father, shoveling dirt or driving a dump truck on building sites. Unless . . . In January 1968 he turned eighteen, and the Vietcong launched the Têt Offensive. He was watching TV in a bar in Camden. There was a documentary telling him about recruitment. It mentioned that if you shaped up, the Army would give you an education. The next day, he walked into the U.S. Army office in Camden and signed on. The master sergeant was bored. He spent his life listening to youths doing everything in their power to get out of going to Vietnam. “I want to volunteer,” said the youth in front of him. The master sergeant drew a form toward him, keeping eye contact like a ferret that does not want the rabbit to get away. Trying to be kindly, he suggested

Jase and I asked Mia what she wanted to do before her surgery. “How about a family party?” she suggested. So the invitation went out. It’s interesting when you mention to family members that they are going to be on TV--schwoom, they are there. As Willie said, “I didn’t know we had this much family.” Mia had always heard the funny stories about Jase wrestling with his brothers and cousins growing up, particularly how cousin Amy beat up Willie, so that’s what she requested for the special entertainment. As Jase said, “It’s the ultimate redneck dinner theater.” A wrestling ring was delivered, and the warmup act was the Robertson boys clowning around, performing their best wrestling moves. Willie surprised everyone with guest professional wrestlers, including Jase’s favorite, “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan. I felt kind of bad for them, wearing only their little wrestling pants, while the rest of us were bundled up in winter coats. Yes, it was January, but it was unusually cold in Louisiana--about twenty degrees. The wrestlers had to keep moving fast; otherwise, they would have frozen to death! At the end of the party, Mia took the stage between Jase and Willie, thanking everyone for coming and then sharing from her heart: “My favorite verse is Psalm 46:10: ‘Be still, and know that I am God!’ God is bigger than all of us, and He is bigger than any of your struggles, too.” I think I can say that there was hardly a dry eye in the crowd. Going into her surgery, Mia was being brave for all of us. In the end, seeing the final version of the episode, I thought the network did a great job of including enough humor to make people laugh but also providing a tender glimpse into the love our family shares with one another and the love we all have for Mia. When Duck Dynasty fans saw it on March 26, 2014, they agreed completely!

The Lord Gives Victory See, God has come to save me. I will trust in him and not be afraid. The LORD GOD is my strength and my song; he has given me victory.” ISAIAH 12:2 NLT The first time we see the phrase “the Lord is my strength and my song” is in the book of Exodus in the song Miriam and the women danced to as Moses and Miriam and the children of Israel sang. The reason for their rejoicing was their deliverance from Pharaoh and his army. When the Israelites left Egypt, they came to the Red Sea. They realized the army of Egypt had followed them. Then the Lord opened the Red Sea, and the Israelites crossed on dry land. The Egyptians followed. But once the last Israelite was safe on the other side, the Lord closed the waters over the Egyptians who had followed them. It was a great deliverance, and the people celebrated. Later, Isaiah not only predicted God’s judgment on the people of Israel because of their sin and desire to go their own way, he also predicted that God would send salvation and deliverance once their time of judgment was complete. As God had delivered the nation of Israel in ancient times, so would He deliver His people in the future. All would know His name; all would trust Him and not be afraid; all would find strength in praise and rejoicing. And therein lies true victory. Father, faith in You brings victory in the battle against sin. May we sing praises to You for Your salvation.

The Seer's Map by Stewart Stafford Howling dog, thou cursèd hound, Plaguest thy master with baleful sound, The cur's yelps taint the air around; A dirge for all that hear thy wound. The rooftop magpie foretells: Herald of guests to visit soon, A noisy speech announceth, Companions of the afternoon. Lucky horseshoe and iron key, Bringeth good fortune to the finder, But spilling salt provokes fate, And draws the evil eye's reminder. A shoe upon the table laid, Tempts the dead to live anon, For this ungracious gesture waketh, Flesh and blood from skeleton. Who crosses the path of hare or priest, A perilous milestone on thy road, Their very presence signifies That gathering trouble doth forebode. A toad on thy merry travels, Brings sweet smiles and kindest charms, Keep one about thy person warm, To shelter safe from danger's harms. Red sky at night delights the eye, Of shepherd that beholds thy light, Thy colour doth betoken dawn Of weather fair and clear and bright. Red sky at morn troubles the heart, Of shepherd that surveys thy shade, Thy hue doth presage day Of stormy blast and tempest made. December's thunder balm, Speaks of harvest's tranquil mind, January's thunder, fierce! Warns of war and gales unkind. An itchy palm hints at gold To come into thy hand ere long, But if thou scratch it, thou dost lose The fair wind that blows so strong. A Sunday Christmas forewarns: Three signs of what the year shall hold; A winter mild, a Lenten wind, And summer dry, to then unfold. Good luck charm on New Year's Day Maketh fortune bloom all year, But to lose it or give it away, Thou dost invite ill-omened fear. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

Climate Italy’s climate varies greatly from north to south. In the Alps, at the top of the boot, snow lingers on the highest peaks throughout the summer. The foot of the boot has hot, dry summers and mild winters. In summer, the temperature can easily reach 90 degrees Fahrenheit (32 degrees Celsius) or higher. This climate draws many northerners to the Mediterranean beaches in the winter. Rome, Italy’s capital, is in the middle of the boot. It’s average high temperature in January is about 52°F (11°C), and its average high temperature in July is 86°F (30°C). In 2003, Italy suffered a heat wave in which the temperature reached 100°F (38°C) or more throughout the summer. An estimated three thousand people, mostly elderly, died. Rain is the heaviest during the fall and winter months. The rainiest areas are in the north. The city of Udine, in the northeast, receives about 60 inches (150 centimeters) of rain a year, but only about 18 inches (46cm) fall on southern Sicily each year.

Flotsam Some people figuratively, although sometimes literately, washed up on the barren beaches of West Africa because they were unwelcome in most other countries. Adventurers, seamen, construction contractors, military mercenaries, as well as missionaries and professional government employees, found themselves here. Money was frequently the motivating factor for people who came to this third world country and most of the typical tropical tramps I knew were involved in the many unsavory activities going on. The dank weather which is usually heavy with moisture from May until October, with a short reprieve of a week or two in July or August, contributed to the bleak attitude people had. What passes for a dry season lasts from November through April with the least likely chance of rain in December and January. The frequent heavy showers and rainstorms make Liberia and Sierra Leone the wettest climatic region in Africa. One way or another, everyone was always wet…. This in turn attributed to the heavy drinking and it was said that if the moisture didn't come from the sky it certainly came from the pores... Generally speaking in West Africa near the Equator the climate is tropical, hot and humid all year round! There were numerous meeting places or drinking holes for the expats. Guaranteed, there was no way any of us would be able to survive the conditions of West Africa without occasionally imbibing, which in reality we did constantly. The most popular bars for Europeans, which in Liberia included Americans, were run by foreigners to the country and these included the more upscale American Hotel and the old Ducor Hotel, near the Cape Mesurado Lighthouse on Mamba Point.

In the Company of Women" Make me laugh over coffee, make it a double, make it frothy so it seethes in our delight. Make my cup overflow with your small happiness. I want to hoot and snort and cackle and chuckle. Let your laughter fill me like a bell. Let me listen to your ringing and singing as Billie Holiday croons above our heads. Sorry, the blues are nowhere to be found. Not tonight. Not here. No makeup. No tears. Only contours. Only curves. Each sip takes back a pound, each dry-roasted swirl takes our soul. Can I have a refill, just one more? Let the bitterness sink to the bottom of our lives. Let us take this joy to go.

Address BARTON CENTRE, 912, 9th Floor, Mahatma Gandhi Rd, Bengaluru, Karnataka - 560 001 Phone Number +91 8884400919 Set out on an exhilarating experience to the hypnotizing scenes and energetic societies of Kenya Tour Package From Bangalore. Kenya, eminent for its different natural life, unblemished sea shores, and rich social legacy, offers a really remarkable travel insight. This article fills in as a thorough manual for help you plan and capitalize on your Kenya visit, from the arranging stages to investigating the staggering attractions and drenching in the nearby customs. Find the miracles that look for you in Kenya and prepare for a remarkable excursion that could only be described as epic. Prologue to Kenya Visit Bundles Assuming you're hoping to set out on an exhilarating experience that joins untamed life, nature, and culture, Kenya is the ideal location for your next excursion. With its different scenes, colorful untamed life, and dynamic culture, Kenya offers a special encounter for explorers searching something strange. Why Pick Kenya for Your Next Get-away Kenya's charm lies in its dazzling public parks overflowing with natural life, flawless sea shores with completely clear waters, and a rich social legacy that makes certain to spellbind your faculties. Whether you're a nature darling, experience searcher, or essentially hoping to loosen up in a tropical heaven, Kenya has something for everybody. Outline of Surfnxt's Kenya Visit Bundle from Bangalore Surfnxt's Kenya visit bundle from Bangalore is intended to offer you a remarkable involvement with the core of Africa. From exciting safari undertakings to loosening up ocean side escapes, this bundle has everything. With master guides, agreeable facilities, and consistent planned operations, Surfnxt guarantees that your excursion to Kenya is absolutely phenomenal. Arranging Your Outing from Bangalore to Kenya While arranging your Kenya Tour Package From Bangalore, it's fundamental to consider the booking system and essential records expected for a smooth travel insight. Furthermore, understanding the best chance to visit Kenya can assist you with taking full advantage of your excursion. Booking Interaction and Important Archives Booking your Kenya visit bundle with Surfnxt is simple and bother free. Just follow the means given by Surfnxt's group, and guarantee you have every one of the important records like a legitimate identification, visa, and travel protection to stay away from any last-minute inconveniences. Best Opportunity to Visit Kenya The best chance to visit Kenya is during the dry season, which normally falls between June to October and January to February. During this time, you can observer the Incomparable Relocation in Masai Mara and appreciate clear skies for ideal natural life seeing and open air exercises. Features of Kenya Visit Bundle with Surfnxt Set out on an extraordinary excursion with Surfnxt's Kenya visit bundle as you dig into the entrancing safari undertakings in Kenya's famous public stops and enjoy ocean side escapes and water exercises along the staggering shoreline. Safari Undertakings in Kenya's Public Parks Get ready to observe the lofty Huge Five - lions, elephants, bison, panthers, and rhinos - right at home as you continue exciting safari trips in Kenya's undeniably popular public stops like Masai Mara and Amboseli. Ocean side Escapes and Water Exercises in Kenya Loosen up on the perfect sea shores of Diani and Watamu, where you can absorb the sun, swim in turquoise waters, and participate in exciting water exercises like swimming, jumping, and water sports, making your get-away in Kenya genuinely remarkable. Investigating the Untamed life and Nature in Kenya Experience the crude excellence of Kenya's untamed life and nature as you experience the famous Large Five on safari and visit protection focuses and holds devoted to saving the country's rich biodiversity.

The LORD will always lead you. He will satisfy your needs in dry lands and give strength to your bones. You will be like a garden that has much water, like a spring that never runs dry.” ISAIAH 58:11 NCV

Well-Watered Gardens “The LORD will always lead you. He will satisfy your needs in dry lands and give strength to your bones. You will be like a garden that has much water, like a spring that never runs dry.” ISAIAH 58:11 NCV Exhausted and weary to the bone, the writer walked into the prayer time barely able to summon any pleasure in the proceedings. The previous year had been grueling, and while she still clung to her faith in Jesus Christ, she had very little strength left. Empty and dry, she could barely make it through the motions of living. She came to the prayer room from a meeting with her agent, who had refused to drop her as a client. Frustrated at her lack of purpose and unable to write out of her desert-like existence, she sat facing the friend who had agreed to pray for her. Soon after prayer began, the dam holding her emotions hostage broke deep within. Tears flowed, and the Lord poured assurance after promise after confirmation over her head in the form of more life-giving water. God wasn’t done with her yet. Hope pushed through the dry soil, turning lush and green in the showers of life-giving water. Two months later she stared in amazement at Isaiah 58:11. Almost word for word, the verse matched what her friend had prayed, proving once again that God’s Word is living and powerful. Thank You so much, Father, for sending Your Holy Spirit to wash us with the water of Your unchanging Word and to refresh us in the showers of blessings and mercies that are new every morning.

Life Is Short Teach us how short our lives really are so that we may be wise. PSALM 90:12 NCV A pastor tried to illustrate the brevity of life to his congregation. “Think of a straight line stretching into infinity on either end. Anywhere on the line, place a dot, smaller than a pinprick. That is your life, your ‘threescore and ten’ years Moses spoke of.” James describes our life as “a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away” (4:14 KJV). In reality, given our finite minds trying to wrap around an infinite concept, these examples don’t really come close to describing the brevity of life. But in spite of that, God does have a purpose for each one of us, a purpose He designed uniquely for each individual. As a new year stretches ahead, many tend to procrastinate, thinking that time stretches into enough time to accomplish their goals and still “enjoy life.” But Moses likens our lives to grass that springs up fresh in the morning, but by evening it dries up and dies (Psalm 90:5–6). What seems a long time to us is really very little in the eyes of an eternal God. No wonder Moses’ prayer was for wisdom to live a fulfilling and purposeful life in the brief time allotted to mankind. We would be wise to make this a daily prayer as we walk forward. Father, teach us to number our days, to live each day with purpose and wisdom as You lead us to fulfill Your purposes through us.

Construction of the SS Morro Castle was begun by the Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company in January of 1929 for the New York and Cuba Mail Steam Ship Company, better known as the Ward Line. The ship was launched in March of 1930, followed in May by the construction of her sister ship the SS Oriente. Both ships were 508 feet long and had a breath of almost 80 feet and weighed in at 11,520 gross tons (GRT). The ships were driven by General Electric turbo generators, which supplied the necessary electrical current to two propulsion motors. Having twin screws both ships could maintain a cruising speed of 20 knots. State of the art, each ship was elegantly fitted out to accommodate 489 passengers and had a complement of 240 officers and crew. It is estimated that the ships cost approximately $5 million each, of which 75% was given to the company as a low cost government loan to be repaid over twenty years. The SS Morro Castle was named for the fortress that guards the entrance to Havana Bay. On the evening of September 5, 1934 Captain Robert Willmott had his dinner delivered to his quarters. Shortly thereafter, he complained of stomach trouble and shortly after that, died of an apparent heart attack. With this twist of fate the command of the ship went to the Chief Mate, William Warms. During the overnight hours, with winds increasing to over 30 miles per hour, the ship continued along the Atlantic coast towards New York harbor. Early on September 8, 1934 the ship had what started as a minor fire in a storage locker. With the increasing winds, the fire quickly intensified causing the ship to burn down to the waterline, killing a total of 137 passengers and crew members. Many passengers died when they jumped into the water with the cork life preservers breaking their necks and killing them instantly on impact. Only half of the ships 12 lifeboats were launched and then losing power the ship drifted, with heavy onshore winds and a raging sea the hapless ship ground ashore near Asbury Park. Hard aground she remained there for several months as a morbid tourist attraction. On March 14, 1935 the ship was towed to Gravesend Bay, New York and then to Baltimore, MD, where she was scrapped. The Chief Mate Robert Warms and Chief Engineer Eban Abbott as well as the Ward Line vice-president Henry Cabaud were eventually indicted on various charges, including willful negligence. All three were convicted and sent to jail, however later an appeals court later overturned the ship’s officers convictions and instead placed much of the blame on the dead Captain Willmott. Go figure….

January and February are long months in Michigan. The days are often cloud-filled and dark, and night falls in the early afternoon. My grampa used to always say it took a certain type of person to weather winter in Northern Michigan. Yes, one had to love the snow and cold, the dry skin, a running red nose and the warmth of a wood fire, and, yes, one had to be hearty of soul, but—more than anything—one had to be ever patient and hopeful.

The consequence of these conspiracies became manifest on January 6, 2021, when hundreds of Trump supporters, encouraged by right-wing media and Donald Trump, stormed the U.S. Capitol in a deadly insurrection aimed at overturning the election. There was a time in the United States that such startling violence would have bought at least a few days of unity. But with blood still drying on the Capitol floor, more than one hundred Republican members of Congress voted to overturn the election and spread conspiracies about a “false-flag” operation that had already begun to circulate within right-wing media. Over the next twenty-four hours, hosts went on air to denounce the violence, then immediately began to argue, falsely, that left-wing agitators and Antifa were responsible for the insurrection.

One of the curators at the Natural History Museum responsible for lice was Bruce Frederic Cummings, who joined the staff in January 1912.

Lifting from the bed, I stare down at the mess I made. I don’t want my come to go to waste. Bending down, I suck my seed into my mouth, cleaning the sheets before it’s too late and it dries.

My tongue is dry, and I crave to drink from her while I’m fucking her sweet cunt.

Rainforest farmers developed clever strategies for enriching soil. In the Amazon, for example, they overcame the poor rainforest soils by mixing them with charcoal and other nutrients to create an artificial soil called terra preta, or “black earth,” built into raised beds for intensive farming. There may be as much as fifty thousand square miles in the Amazon covered in this artificially enriched black soil—a staggering accomplishment that tells us Amazonia was densely settled in pre-Columbian times. (If a lidar survey were done of the Amazon basin, it would be, without doubt, an absolute revelation.) So far, almost no research has been done on how the people of Mosquitia farmed their rainforest environment. At T1, we found probable irrigation canals and a reservoir that would have helped make farming possible during the quasi-dry season from January to April. But beyond that there is much, much more to be learned.

Something in the shape of the scene—the rich smell of dry cedar in the sun, the grass swaying against the sky like a tigress in orange and blue—made me want to curl into the dry stems like a fawn waiting for her mother. I waded deeper, wandering, letting my hands trail through the frilled tops of wild grains.

He smiled. It was such a giddy, starstruck expression, as if the boy could imagine nothing better than meeting her in this field in three days, that Ade saw no other recourse than to kiss him. It was a clumsy kiss, a dry brush that almost missed his mouth entirely, but afterward their hearts racketed strangely in their chests and their limbs tingled and shook, so perhaps it was not such a poor effort after all.

As a general rule I’m not a person who cries much. When I was younger I cried over everything from sneers to sad endings, and even once over a puddle of tadpoles that dried up in the sun, but at some point I learned the trick of stoicism: you hide. You pull yourself inside your castle walls and crank up the drawbridge and watch everything from the tallest tower. But

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1 NEW YEAR’S DAY Do Over The LORD says, “Forget what happened before, and do not think about the past. Look at the new thing I am going to do. It is already happening. Don’t you see it? I will make a road in the desert and rivers in the dry land.” ISAIAH 43:18–19 NCV

Richard Piper is CEO of one of the UK’s leading alcohol charities, Alcohol Change UK. Formed from the 2017 merger of Alcohol Concern and Alcohol Research UK, Alcohol Change UK is known for its flagship programmes Alcohol Awareness Week and Dry January. I contacted Richard on Twitter, where his bio declares that he is ‘not anti-alcohol, just anti-alcohol-harm’, and so I started by asking him what he means by this

I don’t want my come to go to waste. Bending down, I suck my seed into my mouth, cleaning the sheets before it’s too late and it dries.