I would make the picture smaller, but it deserves to be large. Just gaze on in awe of its massivity.
Past two days have been ok at best. Wait, one good thing did happen to me. My mother, bless her soul, brought me home a book of Allen Ginsberg's poetry. You gotta love Ginsberg. Now, I know you won't love all his work, that'd be impossible. Most of it doesn't even make sense due to his writing it while undergoing euphoria. But his unstoppable flow is undeniable. Not flow from word to word, but from mind to paper, and paper to mind. The stream's current never stills or slows, always steady. Not every little observation is gonna blow your mind, but that's to be expected from a man who never let's a single thought go to waste. "First thought = best thought" That's the Ginsberg way.
If you've never read anything like that, let me attempt to give you a sample.
Crickets chirp with vigor. Continuing on in a night of emptiness.
Who hears? Who's here? You hear?
One, two, ten thousand men in a mad race to their death.
Try and stop them before they reach the finish,
you'll end up racing right along side.
Reality wins again.
Slip away. Consciousness gone.
New songs, old guitars. Start revolutions with a wave of your hand.
Nuclear bombs explode in angry cacophonies.
Toy soldiers line up and die for little boys with big toys.
Endless misery wreaks havoc.
Bang! Widows and ex-mothers are created from a meaningless dispute
for the evils of the world.
Extinct. Endangered. Wildlife and mild life combine
and connect. Explosions erupt on the horizon. Try to find them and fail.
Go back to the sandbox. Grab the shovel and dig.
Dive right in and just be a kid. Relax. Enjoy.
Ostrich feathers scatter across the ground surrounding you in a sea of ignorance. Death is not far behind.
Suddenly blind. Forgot your handicap tag. Take the scenic route. All the time in the world, but none of the time on the clock.
Now you can find tons of hidden meanings in there. I have no doubt. The thing is, I didn't put them in on purpose. That's the beauty of Ginsberg.
So anywaaay......yesterday I had a soccer game and then I worked till 12-ish. Probably more like 11:30. Hell if I know. I've been thinkin a lot lately about the name Fiona. Not that I know anyone named Fiona, but it's just the sexiest name I know. If you name your little girl Fiona, and both the parents are moderately good looking, she's gonna grow up to be beautiful. I don't know why, but she will. That name is just......yea. Don't believe me?? Fine, since I don't have any proof. Just say it out loud. Now say it again, but slower. See what I mean?
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