They should teach that in middle school.

lol!

But then India is a very vast country with billions of people so its absolutely DUMB to judge the whole country on the basis of some street acts & some religious acts ( i believe all religious thingummies SUCK )

& believe me vallaient
THEREs SHIT EVERYWHERE
THERES SHIT IN THE USA
& SHIT IN INDIA
& ALL THE WORLD

ALL OVER THERE ARE GOOD GUYS & BAD GUYS
THERE IS EVIL & THERE IS GOOD
THERE IS RIGHT & THERE IS WRONG

ITS ON EVERY PLACE OF EARTH
NOT GEOGRAPICALLY ALLIGNED !!!!

*gentle virtuoso guitar picking and foot tapping*

Hold On

Let it fly and lonely cry, everybody’s free
I will decide how I’ll be tied, but freedom, be there for me
We’ll build walls around our brain
Leave these prisons in our chains
And hold on
And I thought I had control, I tried
But now I would be satisfied
To hold on.

Tell me what to do, and I’ll tell you what I’ll say
My freedom will be measured by the length to which I’ll disobey
Tell me where to go
And I’ll freely tell you no
And I will hold on
But leave me on my own
And I’ll lock these shackles to my bones
And I’ll hold on.

Freedom for the soul is what we want, but when it fades
We’ll treat it like a burden, ‘til the devil feels he’s underpaid
We’ll drag that spirit door to door
’Til finally it can’t move no more
It just holds on
Now the only thing that’s truly free
Is this little voice that’s telling me
To hold on.

Bergamot is a heart accelerant. One hasn’t lived until one has had as much of that tea as I used to drink and then handled endless heavy breakable objects full of pasta/cabbage/potatoes and then mopped floors…

Amorphous time is strange and angsty stuff for sure… Do keep us posted on what you do with it. I have a bit of my own to reckon with at present and I’d hate to reinvent the wheel if I don’t have to.

I think everyone except maybe Roxanne and Gandhi saw this one coming…

oh and i gotta admit love the last line … :)

Good with figuring shit out.

PS
After making a comment in response to your thoughts on poetry I was inspired to write some. I offer it here, as it happens to be somewhat related to the subject at hand:

some would say that we are made of
actions taken
works complete.
others say we are but fleeting
memories of what could be.
others still
would argue
dreaming
is no different than
right now.
still somehow i think i ought to
figure out when and how
i should spend my waking hours
so that when i’m gone they’ll say
he was driven
he was happy
he made others feel this way.

I’ve found that some of my best has been about something other than myself. Probably because writing about the external environment allows one to satiate the need for metered release, while keeping exhibitionism at bay.

That said, avoiding the “let me bare my soul to the world” approach is quite difficult since I would argue that poetry is almost implicitly personal.

http://beatsentropy.com/2008/4/15/passive-depressive-138/

The sailor’s pipe was then made into a wall piece which was a cheeky nod to the French surrealist Magritte:
http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a199/don_veto/MagrittePipe.jpg

(except in the comic, it actually says “c’est un pipe.” although it might not be readable)

Beat me to it — I was going to say you’d be getting a call.

Bonus points if you do it while revealing Slimey. Eh? Know what I mean? Hunh? Funny stuff right there.

That is one of the most brilliantly unsettling things I’ve had to think of in a while.

“Not to suggest that I’m wishing you any misfortune but… I’m eagerly anticipating the pithy and insightful musings you will pen during your upcoming BONE CANCER period..”

=)

In truth however, I would never fall asleep when Phil is around… Too dangerous.

Champagne and a deep breath for you…

A long deep cool breath in and long deep warm breath out.

To new things and a river of words to trace it all.

(P.S. If you can work out twice a day you can post twice a day. Just sayin’. Fans can turn rabid when neglected.)

=)