for i have known them all already, known them all:
have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
i have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
i know the voices dying with a dying fall
beneath the music from a farther room.
so how should i presume?
and i have known the eyes already, known them all
the eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
and when i am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
when i am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
then how should I begin
to spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
and how should i presume?
-t.s. eliot
from the love song of j. alfred prufrock
i loathe drama, but it of course invariably finds me. two friends - well i say friends, more acquaintences - have found their romance on the rocks. i, being the switzerland in this conflict, have become the dartboard for negotiations, complaints, and general commentary between the two warring factions. i try to be a good listner, really i do. but do i care? of course i don't.
but i ask myself and you loyal readers: why do people constantly come to me with their heartaches? even strangers do. if i were smart i would start charging.
anyway, the moral of this story is that i ultimately suggested to the fellow that he employ the services of the prostitute. it would at the very least take his mind off of things. at which point my friend lance chimed in, "yeah, and you're gonna spend that money anyway." how fucking true. you ARE going to spend that money anyway.
a little kernel of truth rests around every corner.
if you do not own colder's "again" album let me kow and i will burn a copy for you. it's just that good.
the ink piggybank is almost full again - time for lots and lots of tattoing. woo hoo!!!
have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
i have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
i know the voices dying with a dying fall
beneath the music from a farther room.
so how should i presume?
and i have known the eyes already, known them all
the eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
and when i am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
when i am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
then how should I begin
to spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
and how should i presume?
-t.s. eliot
from the love song of j. alfred prufrock
i loathe drama, but it of course invariably finds me. two friends - well i say friends, more acquaintences - have found their romance on the rocks. i, being the switzerland in this conflict, have become the dartboard for negotiations, complaints, and general commentary between the two warring factions. i try to be a good listner, really i do. but do i care? of course i don't.
but i ask myself and you loyal readers: why do people constantly come to me with their heartaches? even strangers do. if i were smart i would start charging.
anyway, the moral of this story is that i ultimately suggested to the fellow that he employ the services of the prostitute. it would at the very least take his mind off of things. at which point my friend lance chimed in, "yeah, and you're gonna spend that money anyway." how fucking true. you ARE going to spend that money anyway.
a little kernel of truth rests around every corner.
if you do not own colder's "again" album let me kow and i will burn a copy for you. it's just that good.
the ink piggybank is almost full again - time for lots and lots of tattoing. woo hoo!!!
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
jena:
come on down, i'll feed you pastries. my membership expires shortly; email.
freyja__:
my guess is they come to you for your brutal honesty.