Praised be man, he is existing in milk and living in lillies- And his violin music takes place in milk and creamy emptiness- Praised be the unfolded inside petal flesh of tend'rest thought- (petrels on the follying wave-valleys idly sing themselves asleep)- Praised be delusion, the ripple- Praised be the Holy Ocean of Eternity- Praised be I, writing, dead already & dead again- Dipped in ancid inkl the flamd of T i m the Anglo Oglo Saxon Maneuvers Of Old Poet-o's- Praised be wood, it is milk- Praised be Honey at the Source- Praised be the embrace of soft sleep -the valor of angels in valleys of hell on earth below- Praised be the Non ending- Praised be the lights of earth-man- Praised be the watchers- Praised be my fellow man For dwelling in milk
228th Chorus, from Mexico City Blues, by Jack Kerouac
Whenever it rains I totally lose my motivation to do anything at all, this is especially bothersome when I have days off. Bearing this in mind, I still am hoping to be constructive tomorrow, hopefully to make up for the lack of any real productive behaviour in the past month or so. Gonna do some cleaning, dump some tapes, get rid of some stuff. Everything has to be a big to do.
On Friday Night I set a lot of my body/clothing on fire.
The University of King's College has waitlisted me, silver linings and all. This means I'm not as stupid as I once thought, but it backs up that I'm just about as lazy I thought.
I applied for a job in LA, just sort of as a feeler to see what would happen. Could make for a funny story I guess, country boy in the big city.
I had a lot more to say when I started this, I thought so anyway. Drifting. Some weird dream where I'm the same age as everyone. Something like that. Non sequential blogging. Excited for the summer. Word is bond.