So I suscribe to a poetry mailing list and usually they have classical things like Yeats, Poe, Chaucer. The other day I got this; and I just choked upon reading it. I was not expecting this when I opened the poem:
Regime de Vivre
I rise at eleven, I dine about two,
I get drunk before seven, and the next thing I do,
I send for my whore, when for fear of a clap,
I spend in her hand, and I spew in her lap;
Then we quarrel and scold, till I fall fast asleep,
When the bitch growing bold, to my pocket does creep.
Then slyly she leaves me, and to revenge the affront,
At once she bereaves me of money and cunt.
If by chance then I wake, hot-headed and drunk,
What a coil do I make for the loss of my punk!
I storm and I roar, and I fall in a rage.
And missing my whore, I bugger my page.
Then crop-sick all morning I rail at my men,
And in bed I lie yawning till eleven again.
Lord John Wilmot
***
Otherwise, I finally decided what to vote. I made a decision, oh yes. I can do these things!
(confession: half a decision, I kinda let myself be a sheep for the tax modifs for Vaud)
I have a monster headache. I just want to curl up and not feel anything. It makes me reread things 3x and still not see mistakes. Why isn't the Co-Dafalgan not working yet?