Expect a most agreeable letter, for not being overburdened with subject (having nothing at all to say), there shall be no
check to my genius from beginning to end.
--Jane Austen
how should another know your mind?
And there was a beautiful view
But nobody could see.
Cause everybody on the island
Was saying: Look at me! Look at me!
--Laurie Anderson
will he discern what quickens you?
Monday, May 31, 2010 @ 10:45 AM
I am wonderfully and fantastically insane, officially drunk, and I absolutely love the way I feel right now, so strange, flighty, and mellow, all at once.
This feels so wonderful and surreal, especially post-I have no mouth and I must scream, but that's entirely beside the point.
It's so terribly wonderful and unfair that some people just write so beautifully and with such finesse that you wonder if they played down their ages for the shock factor.
or perhaps not finesse, but a kind of down-to-earth endearing familiarity that renders the whole setup distinctly modest but spectacularly accomplished in its own identity all at once.
I'd love for this to be like that, but unfortunately, all I can manage are rather -quaint- imitations of such noble works.
Noble!
Wouldn't she laugh to read this.
I feel wholly like a fool right now, but as the way interrupted, abrupt rambles go, this shall end with something entirely in reach, but not necessarily treasured