My child, my sister, dream, How sweet all things would seem, Were we in that kind land to live together, And there love slow and long, There love and die among, Those scenes that image you, That sumptuous weather, Drowned suns that glimmer there, through cloud-dishevelled air, Move me with such a mystery as appears, Within those other skies, Of your treacherous eyes, When I behold them shining through their tears...baudelaire
Nov 17, 2009
Oct 25, 2009
Sep 18, 2009
...it dawned on me to look again for the key to that ancient party where I might find my appetite once more.ar
Recently, I tried to Facebook for 4 months, twittered for 2 weeks and still trying to figure out what make the people up who think those types of sites are awesome. Anyway, I chose to go off that grid and went back to riding my bike and gardening.
Watched Delicatessen for the 3rd or forth time and still delight in the misery, sick and twisted misery.
And now, some Baudelaire...
"You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
au revoir
Watched Delicatessen for the 3rd or forth time and still delight in the misery, sick and twisted misery.
And now, some Baudelaire...
"You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
au revoir
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