F1 weekend. Tea Ceremony class. Lunch with friends. Evening by the lake. Nice new ice cream flavor. Care package from Mom- including black licorice.
Job insecurity. Re-org. Exercise induced asthma. Not enough time to do things that I want to do- at least not well. Feeling like a cloddish Gaijin. Knowing that I am a cloddish Gaijin. Keeping too many secrets. Telling too many lies.
Two paths went into the woods. And I, well I took them both. Because if the woods are figurative, then the laws of physics don't apply. Fuck you Robert Frost.
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Acquainted with the Night
by: Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
From "New Hampshire", 1923
ha! brilliant.
Frost was a mean sumabitch.
and besides
i never liked his poetry.
not that that means anything
other than he doesn't get royalties
from me.
the bastard.
Ah- Scobby, you wouldn't let me get away with that one, would you, now? We'll need to discuss the poetry, oh noetry thing in person soon.
And I've heard things about MR. Frost. Not nice things. Go figure. A literary figure who was a total ass. Probably got nuthin on Eugene O'Neil.
Does being a literary figure make you an ass, or do you become a literary figure because you already are an ass? Discuss.
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