As I posted in a friend's journal..
***The discussion was about fall, and how it rings in change. A transition. Out with the old, in with the new, and so forth.***
I wrote:
I love fall about as much as I love the decor of funeral parlors.
It really is pleasant if you view it that way. Right?
Those understuffed austere loveseats in Victorian motif. The bland oil paintings on the walls, not so dull as hotel room art, but always dipicting flaccid still lifes and nature scenes. Stillness and Natural order.
Cheap trays of finger food in the kitchen area. Bad coffee.
Relatives, huddled in suits, sucking smoke out front.
Why do we wear suits to funerals? I suppose its the same chiding reason that leaves turn vivid shades of orange and yellow in the autumn. A perverse ostentation in the face of death.
Give me spring in her fullness and bloom. Intoxicating newness. But that's a different story.
I wrote:
I love fall about as much as I love the decor of funeral parlors.
It really is pleasant if you view it that way. Right?
Those understuffed austere loveseats in Victorian motif. The bland oil paintings on the walls, not so dull as hotel room art, but always dipicting flaccid still lifes and nature scenes. Stillness and Natural order.
Cheap trays of finger food in the kitchen area. Bad coffee.
Relatives, huddled in suits, sucking smoke out front.
Why do we wear suits to funerals? I suppose its the same chiding reason that leaves turn vivid shades of orange and yellow in the autumn. A perverse ostentation in the face of death.
Give me spring in her fullness and bloom. Intoxicating newness. But that's a different story.