by Biff Spackle at the irreplaceable Doug Ross @ Journal: INFOGRAPHIC: 6 Reasons to Vote Democrat in November
Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.
When all Earth’s seas shall Levitate,
Dark shawled within the skies,
Upon our eyes will Starfish dance
Their waltz of Blind surprise.
The sun will Rise within wine Dark
As Argonauts imbibed,
Whose drunken arms embrace that sleep
Where Phaeton’s horses Stride.
Upon all of Earth’s wind-sanded shores,
As dolphins Learn to soar,
All we once were on the land
Shall be sealed behind the door
Of Ivory and Chastened Gold,
That the Mystery solved complete
Shall never til the seas’ Long fall
Wake mariners from their sleep.
— Van der Leun
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
Gerard Van der Leun
Comments on this entry are closed.
Seems logical, dudn’t it?
Choose evil, or not.
But.
Imagine an inside-out-backwards existence where all of that stuff is appealing and that about 1/2 the people in this country want exactly that, and more!
They are parasites gorging on the host.
Politics won’t solve this problem.
If Biden wins the insanity won’t stop, it will accelerate.
Sane people know how to deal with insanity permanently.
My suggestion: Stop the stealing.
Stealing is at the base of all the insanity.
Don’t make me post that little DC tidbit again.
Because the Lileks post is broken I’ll drop my comment here.
“No one is obliged to go downtown.”
=========================
The serious aspects of everything gov’t is located downtown in most places.
Want to get a building permit in Marion county?
You’re going to downtown Indianapolis to apply.
Take your hawgleg of course, two is better…and a few assault blades too.
BLM = black looters & murderers.
ghost sniper,
If you’re smart, you DON’T live in Marion (Indianapolis), Cook (Chicago), Hennepin (Minneapolis), or any other County with a major city situated in it. 😉
@mmack, you can leave the “If” off the first sentence.
We live in the sticks of Brown County about 50 miles south of Indy. I’d be more comfortable if we were 200 miles from anywhere. Burning huge volumes of dead and rotting parasites is not my favorite thing to do.
Me, I about 2785 air miles from Chicago, 2465 from LA, 2466 from Minneapolis, -still a bit closer than I’d like to be.