apropos

“Apropos of the Wet Snow”
When from out of error’s darkness
With a word both sure and ardent
I had drawn the fallen soul,
And you, filled with deepest torment,
Cursed the vice that had ensnared you
And so doing wrung your hands;
When punishing with recollection
Forgetful conscience, you then told
The tale of all that went before me,
And suddenly you hid your face
In trembling hand and, filed with horror,
Filled with shame, dissolved with tears,
Indignant as you were, and shaken..
Etc, etc, etc.

From poetry of N. A. Nekrasov

Chapter IX
He admits that man feels a compulsion to create, but that he feels an equally strong urge to destroy. Animals delight in the creations they have made, as ants delight in an anthill they have built. Man, on the other hand, takes pleasure only in the creative process, never in its end result. Man senses that after he fully achieves all of his goals, there will be nothing left to do, and so he fears that achievement.

This is where I am with my stuff...

Sad that when you google this poem the first thing that comes up is a FLKR photo page, followed by some idiot-blog.

I saw Andrew Bird last night and the crowd reminded me of the same snobs that I met when at the Yo La Tengo show at Birdies. “Yahhh, he’s so amazing…” Shut the fuck up, you poser.

I hate my neighbors. I cannot decide whether I live in a trailer park or a glorified dorm..
I find it horrific that moving up to a nicer place means I have to deal with higher tech toys. Rich kids are assholes.