Feel like slapping some mish. Making it all red. Tying up some schej and making sport of it all. Can't blame me, now, can you? Even if you did, I would go upside your head with a slap. That slap could be better invested, as aforementioned, so blame me if you want to. The manishie is almost of assertive appeal, but missing that decidedly appealing decisiveness. Wingy, too quick to give up. Make a man want it, or it just won't be wanted.
Wish I could focus this caffeination on something good, like an iOS app or the development of ObjC/Java doolala. Instead I write this note, which even in ten years will read irrelevance and impertinence. Slap***
Ceux qui ont apparié notre vie à un songe ont eu de la raison...Nous veillons dormants et veillants dormons. -Montaigne
Intro
O full-orb'd moon, did but thy rays
Their last upon mine anguish gaze!
Beside this desk, at dead of night,
Oft have I watched to hail thy light:
Then, pensive friend! o'er book and scroll,
With soothing power, thy radiance stole!
In thy dear light, ah, might I climb,
Freely, some mountain height sublime,
Round mountain caves with spirits ride,
In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide,
And, purged from knowledge-fumes, renew
My spirit, in thy healing dew!
Goethe: Faust I.
Friday, May 20, 2011
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