Jan 20th further adventures in mankind

Straight out of leftfield I find myself in the throes of a mating ritual. The bazbody and bazmind have been unloading the usual tripe on some unsuspecting passing soul.The bazbrain is hard at work being strange. I think my restive soul needs putting to rest. I think in life as in law school open memos, there are plenty of points to be had for the simple and straight. If you're going to be strange to the depths, you might want to contact the davos for tips on delivery and a level of politesse that could win the heart of even a passing manatee (if that was the standing requirement.) Davos and Emre will be reverberating through Montreal soon. I want to go but I wonder....this grass is greener shite does not strike at the root of this despair
This despair is not to be remedied by preying on passers-by, accosting strangers with brochures on the latest features bundled on the new bazmodel. Something spark-plugamajig needs replacing or somesuch.
I thinks we take refuge in a poem or two. I don't have "conversation with a stone" by Szymborska- that is sitting in a box in montreal. But there are a couple others that I have found the words of, one by rudyard kipling and the other a villanelle (I think) by dylan thomas:


Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



IF

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!


--Rudyard Kipling


...well now that's done (and I'm not yet a man :) ), Elvis Costello does have some good music and criminal law is stuff to shake one's head at. As the fine young cannibals kick in, I wonder how strange it would be if I started dancing in the law library....

Bazbollah