Metamorphose

METAMORPHOSE

I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame the earth seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this mighty o'rehanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire; why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a God! The beauty of the world, paragon of animals; and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dusk. Man delights not me, no, nor women neither, nor women neither.

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Sunday, August 24, 2008

Lazy that is I
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For the first time in a long time I stood still. A stream that turned into an ocean that found its sand to break on. I've seated myself down and the tidal wave recedes. With music in ones ear. I write.

I've run out of music of late. My daily car drives to and from the grind has fulfilled a good remainder of new music needs(and I don't mean any of that brit-pop gems some people worship). I toll over older catalogues and randomly choose Carnavas and it is only until lucky number number seven reveals its head that the spiral occurs.

I hope this can remain the next beginning of change, out of our cocoon like state, that we swirm our way out of. Or should we say I?

Once a week should be a very good start.

Clean Execution?

LS at 8/24/2008 05:15:00 AM

Diary of the Gods - Jetblack