the swell and the fall

BRIGHT star! would I were steadfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature’s patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

-J Keats

good wine needs no bush

I don’t want to complain about snow storms because I love snow and we haven’t gotten much of it over the last dozen or so years but man when it rains it pours. Back to back weekends of killer snow storms and I’m getting tired of being snowed in. Cabin fever. Though I shouldn’t be because I have plenty of projects around the house that could use my undivided attention for a couple of days. But I always like to have that option of running out the door and riding to Williamsburg for a tin chalice of ye olde cheer. Never you mind the 20 volumes of books I have to read for class. Never you mind the empty canvases that look at me all sad eyed and lonely whenever I pass them by. Never you mind the 100 home repairs that need attention. Never you mind the banjer that needs dusting and tuning and head tightening and maybe even a little playing. It spends many more nights sad eyed and lonely than the canvases. But I’ve got to be able to go outside and drive or I’ll never get all this done! I never said this made any sense. I started writing a song the other day but I forgot to write it down and now it is lost. Well, maybe this time I'll make sure I have enough supplies on hand for another weekend bunkered by snow and ice with my books and paints and funny lookin' stringed instruments. Hell I might even write a song. But until then

'Red wine and sleeping pills

help me get back to your arms

cheap sex and surf films

help me get where i belong

I think you're crazy, maybe

I think you're crazy, maybe

...

I will see you in the next life'

-Radiohead