Comments on: Help me out http://www.longstraighthighway.com/2009/07/19/help-me-out/ amusements for gentlemen and scholars Thu, 19 Jan 2012 19:59:00 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 By: gray http://www.longstraighthighway.com/2009/07/19/help-me-out/comment-page-1/#comment-2547 gray Wed, 09 Sep 2009 06:49:32 +0000 http://www.longstraighthighway.com/?p=1347#comment-2547 you'll be pissing blood in a cup hoping to god it's not your last day on earth, what's left of it, reflecting with generosity on what you once held in contempt and disdained but which in truth was the very scaffolding on which you had perched your wit and intellect and now that it, that which you disdained, is gone you miss its ability to ground you and be a formal enemy to oppose. with that which you claimed as barriers now discarded and along with it most of what you thought of as the solidity of the world you roam the sun blackened landscape where only the smartest survived and you find that you much less enjoy their company than you did the company of the simple, earnest believers that pocked the walls of your pristine entombment, that sometimes cheered for the other team, sometimes yours, that wore stupid cutoff jeans and cutoff flannel shirts and work boots but that drank the same bad beer as you and quietly and without fanfare read great novels on occasion but never showed it and more likely hid the fact and that had true empathy for little animals even while enjoying hunting them with pals on the weekend, that had as many, if different, possibly deeper even, contradictions than your own heart shielded from the light of your friends and psyche's bitter sarcasms.<br><br>maybe you're lost in the wainscotting when you should be in the kitchen getting your hands dirty, crafting something truly divine through practice and research instead of inspecting the cut of your navel and looking for the pretty pastiche that will make the paragraph truly sing to the detriment of the arc of the longer story. <br><br>actually, i have no idea, i haven't seen you in a long time and haven't had a moment to linger on much of anything other than soft focus and short attention span tasks which make my own poor mind ever more jellygoofunklike. so take the preceding as a selfportrait rather than a selfless examination of anything to do with you. ahh, selfishness. we can always count on that, can't we. in all things. though we never really know the wages of sin, huh? you'll be pissing blood in a cup hoping to god it's not your last day on earth, what's left of it, reflecting with generosity on what you once held in contempt and disdained but which in truth was the very scaffolding on which you had perched your wit and intellect and now that it, that which you disdained, is gone you miss its ability to ground you and be a formal enemy to oppose. with that which you claimed as barriers now discarded and along with it most of what you thought of as the solidity of the world you roam the sun blackened landscape where only the smartest survived and you find that you much less enjoy their company than you did the company of the simple, earnest believers that pocked the walls of your pristine entombment, that sometimes cheered for the other team, sometimes yours, that wore stupid cutoff jeans and cutoff flannel shirts and work boots but that drank the same bad beer as you and quietly and without fanfare read great novels on occasion but never showed it and more likely hid the fact and that had true empathy for little animals even while enjoying hunting them with pals on the weekend, that had as many, if different, possibly deeper even, contradictions than your own heart shielded from the light of your friends and psyche's bitter sarcasms.

maybe you're lost in the wainscotting when you should be in the kitchen getting your hands dirty, crafting something truly divine through practice and research instead of inspecting the cut of your navel and looking for the pretty pastiche that will make the paragraph truly sing to the detriment of the arc of the longer story.

actually, i have no idea, i haven't seen you in a long time and haven't had a moment to linger on much of anything other than soft focus and short attention span tasks which make my own poor mind ever more jellygoofunklike. so take the preceding as a selfportrait rather than a selfless examination of anything to do with you. ahh, selfishness. we can always count on that, can't we. in all things. though we never really know the wages of sin, huh?

]]> By: gray http://www.longstraighthighway.com/2009/07/19/help-me-out/comment-page-1/#comment-1987 gray Tue, 08 Sep 2009 23:49:32 +0000 http://www.longstraighthighway.com/?p=1347#comment-1987 you'll be pissing blood in a cup hoping to god it's not your last day on earth, what's left of it, reflecting with generosity on what you once held in contempt and disdained but which in truth was the very scaffolding on which you had perched your wit and intellect and now that it, that which you disdained, is gone you miss its ability to ground you and be a formal enemy to oppose. with that which you claimed as barriers now discarded and along with it most of what you thought of as the solidity of the world you roam the sun blackened landscape where only the smartest survived and you find that you much less enjoy their company than you did the company of the simple, earnest believers that pocked the walls of your pristine entombment, that sometimes cheered for the other team, sometimes yours, that wore stupid cutoff jeans and cutoff flannel shirts and work boots but that drank the same bad beer as you and quietly and without fanfare read great novels on occasion but never showed it and more likely hid the fact and that had true empathy for little animals even while enjoying hunting them with pals on the weekend, that had as many, if different, possibly deeper even, contradictions than your own heart shielded from the light of your friends and psyche's bitter sarcasms.<br><br>maybe you're lost in the wainscotting when you should be in the kitchen getting your hands dirty, crafting something truly divine through practice and research instead of inspecting the cut of your navel and looking for the pretty pastiche that will make the paragraph truly sing to the detriment of the arc of the longer story. <br><br>actually, i have no idea, i haven't seen you in a long time and haven't had a moment to linger on much of anything other than soft focus and short attention span tasks which make my own poor mind ever more jellygoofunklike. so take the preceding as a selfportrait rather than a selfless examination of anything to do with you. ahh, selfishness. we can always count on that, can't we. in all things. though we never really know the wages of sin, huh? you'll be pissing blood in a cup hoping to god it's not your last day on earth, what's left of it, reflecting with generosity on what you once held in contempt and disdained but which in truth was the very scaffolding on which you had perched your wit and intellect and now that it, that which you disdained, is gone you miss its ability to ground you and be a formal enemy to oppose. with that which you claimed as barriers now discarded and along with it most of what you thought of as the solidity of the world you roam the sun blackened landscape where only the smartest survived and you find that you much less enjoy their company than you did the company of the simple, earnest believers that pocked the walls of your pristine entombment, that sometimes cheered for the other team, sometimes yours, that wore stupid cutoff jeans and cutoff flannel shirts and work boots but that drank the same bad beer as you and quietly and without fanfare read great novels on occasion but never showed it and more likely hid the fact and that had true empathy for little animals even while enjoying hunting them with pals on the weekend, that had as many, if different, possibly deeper even, contradictions than your own heart shielded from the light of your friends and psyche's bitter sarcasms.

maybe you're lost in the wainscotting when you should be in the kitchen getting your hands dirty, crafting something truly divine through practice and research instead of inspecting the cut of your navel and looking for the pretty pastiche that will make the paragraph truly sing to the detriment of the arc of the longer story.

actually, i have no idea, i haven't seen you in a long time and haven't had a moment to linger on much of anything other than soft focus and short attention span tasks which make my own poor mind ever more jellygoofunklike. so take the preceding as a selfportrait rather than a selfless examination of anything to do with you. ahh, selfishness. we can always count on that, can't we. in all things. though we never really know the wages of sin, huh?

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