After briefly chatting with Mr. Wolfe a few days ago I've been throwing around the idea of moving to another city. Los Angeles to be specific
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thoughtsvent_sessionSeptember 29 2007, 21:54:17 UTC
So this is going to be a rather long comment, but only because I'm putting in a whole poem (which I thought of and might encourage), so firstly I apologize for that. Mostly for the last stanza, but it doesn't really make sense unless you have the whole thing. I know the poem because its included in "Reckless" (a play, go figure) that I'm dramaturging (May Studio show). I'm not a fan of trying new things without a friend around, either,, so that's just another thought, too.
Leap Before You Look by W. H. Auden
The sense of danger must not disappear: The way is certainly both short and steep, However gradual it looks from here; Look if you like, but you will have to leap.
Tough-minded men get mushy in their sleep And break the by-laws any fool can keep; It is not the convention but the fear That has a tendency to disappear.
The worried efforts of the busy heap, The dirt, the imprecision, and the beer Produce a few smart wisecracks every year; Laugh if you like, but you will have to leap.
The clothes that are considered right to wear Will not be either sensible or cheap So long as we consent to live like sheep And never mention those who disappear.
Much can be said for social savoir-faire, But to rejoice when no one else is there Is even harder than it is to weep; No one is watching, but you have to leap.
A solitude ten thousand fathoms deep Sustains the bed on which we lie, my dear: Although I love you, you will have to leap; Our dream of safety has to disappear.
Leap Before You Look
by W. H. Auden
The sense of danger must not disappear:
The way is certainly both short and steep,
However gradual it looks from here;
Look if you like, but you will have to leap.
Tough-minded men get mushy in their sleep
And break the by-laws any fool can keep;
It is not the convention but the fear
That has a tendency to disappear.
The worried efforts of the busy heap,
The dirt, the imprecision, and the beer
Produce a few smart wisecracks every year;
Laugh if you like, but you will have to leap.
The clothes that are considered right to wear
Will not be either sensible or cheap
So long as we consent to live like sheep
And never mention those who disappear.
Much can be said for social savoir-faire,
But to rejoice when no one else is there
Is even harder than it is to weep;
No one is watching, but you have to leap.
A solitude ten thousand fathoms deep
Sustains the bed on which we lie, my dear:
Although I love you, you will have to leap;
Our dream of safety has to disappear.
December 1940
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