Day 62

11/12/2006

We measure our gains out in luck and coincidence
Lanterns to turn back the night
And put our defeats down to chance or experience
And try once again for the light
Some wait for the waters of fortune to cover them
Some see just the tides of ill chance rushing over them
Some call on Jehovah
Some cry out to Allah
Some wait for the boats that still row to Valhalla
Well, you try to accept what the fates are unfolding
While some say they're sure where the blame should be falling
You look 'round for maybe a chance of forestalling
But soon it's over and done
And the man for all seasons
Is lost behind the sun

-- Al Stewart, A Man for All Seasons

a ragman

-- anagram of anagram

Oh, the ragman draws circles
Up and down the block.
I'd ask him what the matter was
But I know that he don't talk.

-- Bob Dylan, Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again

blogularity, n. ... 3. The point at which the blogosphere becomes self-aware.

-- Urban Dictionary

Blended-down worry cakes twist with each endodermal anomaly, but some sections of the time-knot holds singular slippery promise of threads sent sunward. Bag the interstitial malmoments shuffling the grays of our pantometric palette and trace down the scraping claws of reason, deflecting our inner itch. A cart of curious map-menders may shade the weary sketches of our bulletin autorisé but knew we once the past position, spin-direc and track.

Now, take a hint that soon a wink will circumvent your guard.
And treasured cache of certainty will find its focus hard.
A reference back will nustle doubt: poetic disregard.

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