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Monday, November 21, 2005
Short Week / Short Bus
So this be a short week, and that's a good thing. Watched some football yesterday and got high. That was a good thing. Went out Saturday night with some people I hadn't seen in a while. That was a good thing. Saw Serge Friday night, he stayed out late, that was a good thing. I guess it was a good weekend. Been geeking out lately and burnin a lot of cd's. Been geeking out and reading much too, guess that's why I've been away from this thing. Holiday seasons are upon us it seems and it's not even turkey day yet. I could go on and on about this, but I won't, it's an over statment at this point. I will say that I think it's hot how Band of Brothers dvd's have been out for a few years now and still every year around the holidays you see commercials for them. You know that means they move units around this time of year. Werd.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Work Without Hope
All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair--
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--
And Winter, slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And hope without an object cannot live.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--
And Winter, slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And hope without an object cannot live.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
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