So at the moment the death toll is around 225.

According to nytimes.com: Waves of Israeli airstrikes destroyed Hamas security facilities in Gaza on Saturday in a crushing response to the group’s rocket fire, killing more than 225 — the highest one-day toll in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in decades.

I spent some time with some Palestinian-Austinites today. I'd expected them to be more somber. It's looking as though the attacks may continue to worsen. Here are some photos from today:

There's nothing like a sneak peek right before Christmas.

Oh, you all know you did it when you were a little kid. Who could resist a little pre-Christmas snooping? Maybe that's why I ended up in journalism. I had my mom's hiding spots memorized by at least age 7. Probably earlier. With my cognitive development has come a greater understanding of gifts -- most people are so desperate for ideas that anything you suggest will definitely be waiting under the tree come Christmas day.

The good people at SXSW have provided us with a little peek into Austin's version of Christmas with a few confirmed music acts for the 2009 festival. Ra Ra Riot's a part of the lineup. Their video Ghost Under Rocks was recently included in MTV's top 25 indie videos of the year.





I think they're worthy of the ranking. But the must-see video of the year is definitely "Shoulda Known" by Atmosphere. I saw it in a bar the other day and ... I couldn't take my eyes away. You're gonna want to take a look at this.

la verdad sin velo

Todo es divino. I learned that in an excellent but abstract art class on Catalan artists — it means the unveiled truth: everything is divine. Maybe in the worlds of Dalí or Gaudí. And most definitely in mine. I felt like this poem was a good way to end this cold December night -- the first day of winter. It's called Heron Blue and it's by a guy named Mark Kozelek.

Don't cry my love don't cry no more
A crashing sky a rolling screen
A city drowning God's black tears
I cannot bear to see

She lay under the midnight moon
Her restless body stirring
Until the magic morning hour
Like poison it succumbs her

Her baby skin her old black dress
Her hair it twists round her necklace
Constricts and chokes like ruthless vines
To sleep she overtakes her?

Her room is painted Heron Blue
Lit by candlelight and chandelier
And from her headboard perched so high
A million dreams have passed her

Don't cry my love don't cry no more
It overwhelms my breaking heart
A minor swell of violins
I cannot bear to hear them

A mother shepherds her young birds
she fills their mouths and warms their souls
'Til they are strong and good to fly
Away from her alone she'll die

Cradle on quiet old oak limbs
As heaven blue her light fails
A breath of soot into her lungs
A life, a journeys end in one

Don't sing that old sad hymn no more
It resonates inside my soul
It haunts me in my waking dream
I cannot bear to hear it

Don't play those violins no more
Their melancholic overtones
They echo off the floor and walls
I can't bear to hear them

It's hard not to think of ourselves as those young birds sometimes. Here's to a safe flight.