Sure you can talk about the possibility. You can even make tentative plans, but to actually ask, you need some high grade crack or a really good psychosis.
If you mean sweetiekat, yes. I have her on my Yahoo messenger. Robert is lurking, and only posts occasionally anymore. He's still around, best I know though.
In my craft or sullen art Exercised in the still night When only the moon rages And the lovers lie abed With all their griefs in their arms I labour by singing light Not for ambition or bread Or the strut and trade of charms On the ivory stages But for the common wages Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart From the raging moon I write On these spindrift pages Nor for the towering dead With their nightingales and psalms But for the lovers, their arms Round the griefs of the ages, Who pay no praise or wages Nor heed my craft or art
My number one habit of being alone is talking to myself a lot, and mostly in rhyme. I imagine by the time Joli's lived with me two weeks, she'll either be insane, or have music on really loud all the time.
Hey sass. Good-bye threads are against the rules. Some get yanked some don't, short answer. Long answer, its not good business to have members air anything that might be bad PR for the site. Hope you feel better about things soon sweetie. Keep in touch.
All that I owe the fellows of the grave And all the dead bequeathed from pale estates Lies in the fortuned bone, the flask of blood, Like senna stirs along the ravaged roots. O all I owe is all the flesh inherits, My fathers' loves that pull upon my nerves, My sisters tears that sing upon my head My brothers' blood that salts my open wounds
Heir to the scalding veins that hold love's drop, My fallen filled, that had the hint of death, Heir to the telling senses that alone Acquaint the flesh with a remembered itch, I round this heritage as rounds the sun His winy sky, and , as the candles moon, Cast light upon my weather. I am heir To women who have twisted their last smile, To children who were suckled on a plague, To young adorers dying on a kiss. All such disease I doctor in my blood, And all such love's a shrub sown in the breath.
Then look, my eyes, upon this bonehead fortune And browse upon the postures of the dead; All night and day I eye the ragged globe Through periscopes rightsighted from the grave; All night and day I wander in these same Wax clothes that wax upon the ageing ribs; All night my fortune slumbers in its sheet. Then look, my heart, upon the scarlet trove, And look, my grain, upon the falling wheat; All night my fortune slumbers in its sheet.
I've tested in the superior range my whole life. That doesn't make me superior, that's just what really bad test-writers get paid to tell me.
I've always been wiser than my years though. To borrow a phrase from my father: It's not the years, its the mileage, son. Life has ridden me a lot of miles in my time. I think I was made by Toyota. Or maybe Timex.
Again, linear. Take infinity into account, and vicar and criminal are just blips in that infinity. Karma doesn't require us to understand. It takes a much looooooooonger view.
That's a linear perspective Da. Time is illusion. Past, present, and future are products of a limited perspective. They are one and the same, and are in a constant state of flux. Our minds bring perception and limitations to an unlimited ground state.
"If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear as it truly is, infinite." - William Blake
Wherever you go, there you are. You can change position with fair ease, but you must work hard to change yourself. Scenery doesn't matter much if the same character inhabits each set.
Galactic_bodhi Forum Posts (9,196)
RE: How BAD is Obama as president?
And when we disagreed with Bush we were pinko commies. I guess the text of the ad hominem all depends on what side of the aisle you're on.