i am in a distinctly ts eliot sort of mood, but then again i usually am, because there's not often a moment when i couldn't be convinced to pick up a little ts. sometimes i wish i could have lived in his head just for a day because to have all of that going on is just amazing:
o o o o that shakespeherian rag
it's so elegant
so intelligent
'what shall i do now? what shall i do?'
'i shall rush out as i am, and walk the street
'with my hair down, so. what shall we do tomorrow?
'what shall we ever do?'
the wonderful thing about the waste land is that it encompasses pretty much anything that i could ever be thinking. how does he do that?
in the interest of lightheartedness i think i will find it in me to begin writing a play sometime soon. a parody of sorts, about 2L. now that i've said it i know i had better commit and buckle down and write the thing. there are always lines floating around in my head on the bus in the mornings. but then i am distracted because they planted new trees in front of tax court. maybe i'll work that in somehow.
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
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