Everything feels like it is falling into place, in the most odd of ways. Times are incredibly strange, now, people are even stranger which I thought not possible. It is an odd feeling to be wishing the year away, wake up one morning and realize that it is gone. I wonder if I will wake up one morning at 60-something or other and die wondering where ( Read more... )

There's something in the poem The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (as it is a very long poem, I feel that I am justified in underlining it rather than putting it in quotes) that I'm supposed to know. It's been showing up a lot recently from a lot of different people. John brought a large book of Elliot's to my house on Sunday and asked me to figure ( Read more... )

Time is a very intimidating thing. Time is enormous. It also is, as I've noticed, very inconsistent. It hurried me through my summer and has brought me here: the edge of it. It's a kind of scary place to be, considering as I'm attempting something that is both crazy and incredible (acting. Public speaking. Educated lying. Call it what you will.) ( Read more... )