It's pretty late... I'ma gonna try something new.
Mi hermano y yo were talking about astrological signs and the typical compatibilities that our generally-human, pattern-matching selves seem to catch on about.
For instance, he's an Aquarius and is currently life-filled with Taurians and Virgos. Meanwhile, I'm a Cancer and tend to hang out with Leos.
So I'm curious. Are we being silly? (Moreso...)
Thus, if anyone reads this I'd like to request a response: Your sign? Any common lookieloos hanging around you lately?
That is all.
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (11/28/06)
![[Un]fortunate Philosophies](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dFQ82zKjN5s/S9Ypciuk6cI/AAAAAAAAAPE/6H-qgIQDbyM/S660/BlogPic2.jpg)
In the absence of ingenuity, quote shamelessly.
Lots of things. Oh my goodness, but quietly.
I hung out with a homeless man called The Professor some nights ago. (He told me that the 'T' is indeed capitalized.)
I drank decorated black coffee and he smoked other people's cigarettes while we talked. He made me laugh like a madperson and, unrelatedly, he was presently writing a book on a single sheet of paper with a pristine pen. (He wrote out his working title for me on the back cover of my T. Kuhn book: 'Fu Ling's Book of Wisdom And Etiquette'.)
He wore a silver wedding ring but told me he wasn't married. His glasses didn't have lenses in the frames. He continuously joked while looking down and for all the world like he might cry. He'd occasionally fall into profuse apologies for starting our conversation, looking skeptical at my assurances, but he sat down across from me without a hint of hesitation. I didn't believe a word he said, but it was the most interesting conversation I'd had all day.
He told me that women couldn't really be philosophers, and I admitted that I was faking it a little bit--but then I convinced him that solipsism still has a fighting chance. He also told me he was sure that he was a bad person, but absolutely inept at evil deeds. He thought that this was probably true of all men, having forgotten their rage long ago, as ever-sated by violent films and such. Women, on the other hand, he barely believed were human, and thus not privy to human trivialities like morality. He seemed to think we were all closer to goddesses, and anyway, unreal. I wonder what his wife was like?
After a while we were joined by some of his streamline community. Rawn ("Chaos & Destruction"!?) had had his hand shattered and rebuilt in Vietnam, and spoke unceasingly by way of circular breathing; Dennis ("the Menace") was sporting a long, white beard, and carrying a bag of onions and a guitar, both of which he tied into a story about Ezra Pound.
When my mathematician brother got to the coffee shop to pick me up, he looked surprised--so to make sure it was really him, Rawn asked him what the hypotenuse of a circle was. Geez louise, but these three were pretty grand; by the time that I left I was hardly breathing for laughter.
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (11/22/06)
I hung out with a homeless man called The Professor some nights ago. (He told me that the 'T' is indeed capitalized.)
I drank decorated black coffee and he smoked other people's cigarettes while we talked. He made me laugh like a madperson and, unrelatedly, he was presently writing a book on a single sheet of paper with a pristine pen. (He wrote out his working title for me on the back cover of my T. Kuhn book: 'Fu Ling's Book of Wisdom And Etiquette'.)
He wore a silver wedding ring but told me he wasn't married. His glasses didn't have lenses in the frames. He continuously joked while looking down and for all the world like he might cry. He'd occasionally fall into profuse apologies for starting our conversation, looking skeptical at my assurances, but he sat down across from me without a hint of hesitation. I didn't believe a word he said, but it was the most interesting conversation I'd had all day.
He told me that women couldn't really be philosophers, and I admitted that I was faking it a little bit--but then I convinced him that solipsism still has a fighting chance. He also told me he was sure that he was a bad person, but absolutely inept at evil deeds. He thought that this was probably true of all men, having forgotten their rage long ago, as ever-sated by violent films and such. Women, on the other hand, he barely believed were human, and thus not privy to human trivialities like morality. He seemed to think we were all closer to goddesses, and anyway, unreal. I wonder what his wife was like?
After a while we were joined by some of his streamline community. Rawn ("Chaos & Destruction"!?) had had his hand shattered and rebuilt in Vietnam, and spoke unceasingly by way of circular breathing; Dennis ("the Menace") was sporting a long, white beard, and carrying a bag of onions and a guitar, both of which he tied into a story about Ezra Pound.
When my mathematician brother got to the coffee shop to pick me up, he looked surprised--so to make sure it was really him, Rawn asked him what the hypotenuse of a circle was. Geez louise, but these three were pretty grand; by the time that I left I was hardly breathing for laughter.
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (11/22/06)
And then came buckets of glorious rain...
Breathe. (Mid-term season too slowly passes... "Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night." You know how it is.)
On my way out--on my way out, of course. (My dog is looking at me like her heart is broken, but whenever i look at her she looks away. It's tragic and I'm stalling.)
There're lots of things to say--but not to you, I think, and not tonight. (Whatever, I'm gonna go make a damn pot, and walk by the boats while I'm at it.)
Since when is obscenity determined by intent? "We make merry in the gutter where rats like us belong...lalalalalala!" ('Tis Ms. Noe Venable.)
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (11/2/06)
On my way out--on my way out, of course. (My dog is looking at me like her heart is broken, but whenever i look at her she looks away. It's tragic and I'm stalling.)
There're lots of things to say--but not to you, I think, and not tonight. (Whatever, I'm gonna go make a damn pot, and walk by the boats while I'm at it.)
Since when is obscenity determined by intent? "We make merry in the gutter where rats like us belong...lalalalalala!" ('Tis Ms. Noe Venable.)
Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (11/2/06)
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