deusexmachina

The Years
by Sara Teasdale

To-night I close my eyes and see
A strange procession passing me --
The years before I saw your face
Go by me with a wistful grace;
They pass, the sensitive, shy years,
As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.

The years went by and never knew
That each one brought me nearer you;
Their path was narrow and apart
And yet it led me to your heart --
Oh, sensitive, shy years, oh, lonely years,
That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears.
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Glad you have some joy!

I did as you requested.

I disagree. I think experience is the purpose of life.

I'm not wrong.

Very nice work. Your Mom rocks.

As for the entire to pursue or not to pursue thing.

Life is tenuous. Who has time for fear? The worse thing that happens is you get your ass kicked and rejected. I defer to the Brother Fred:

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Joseph called from Egypt. He wants his coat back.

jk.

They're a deal at that price. I think wearable art trumps hangable stuff. It's cool that your mom does this fabulous creative stuff.

Noice!

Thanks for your last comment. My theory is to keep up the subtle, shameless charm and be patient while she circles in and out. She'll like it. It's tough to telegraph that she's something special to you, but not alone in that category. Above all, never doubt yourself for a second. Steady as she goes, Cap'n.

When I was a kid I was into Hulk, that's it. I'm enjoying meeting these other superheroes as Marvel rolls them out. I love the Stan Lee cameos. Hef!

Lap up les vaccances, baby. Wanna hear something strange? After freelancing for the past year, I'm about to get a real job again where I have to be up on time and go somewhere in the morning with, you know, more than slippers and a ratty bathrobe on, and I'm craving it like I once did a vacation. Now that feeling may last only a week, but I think I'll have the perspective with me always. I have and will work with some great characters, and in the end it's such people who shape our lives. Hum, I like that and think I'll post it. I've not ever felt that way about my alma mater, so school's gotta be the exception. And then there's the CA bar -- my freakin' brilliant cousin's on his second go-'round. Sheesh. Hat's off to you.

oh, it's sexy.

Saw IM last night. Loads o' fun. For once the Feds were good guys.

Good luck with HER. Women make flakes out of us all.

Herness=entropy

embrace chaos

Luck brother.

* um * okay, you're sedated.

Clearly, I don't know Goldfrapp.

Salud!

I'll drink to that.

"...made an impression."

Grin.

Thanks.

We'll have that conversation.

I'm hiding out from work today.

Oh, in answer to your question: GURPS, BESM, D&D 3.whatever, and the occasional indie game system that friends convince me to try.

Surely! Yes, summer, when as I recall, students have this thing called free time.

Dude...I didn't see your comment on Flux's new video. Get over there as in Now. Funniest, sweetest, silliest thing I've ever seen. When my time comes and my life flashes before my eyes, I'll watch this vid and die with a stupid grin on my face.

Well, when you need a pick-me-up, you'll know where to find one.

Nice shot. I feel the warmth just looking at it, which is far from this cold basement that I live in.

Sadly, work is being shitty, so no.

Thanks!

You did read that last night, and subsequently deleted it on a paranoid jag after reading about how Mr. Spitzer's call girl "Kristin" had her life filleted by the media fueled with her online information. Whatever.

Okay, so you rank Japanese after French, too -- good. My Japanese friends speak English and French, so there's the triumverate. I like the idea of a Scandinavian language. When I hear/read them they seem so close to English in some ways, like, an additional step removed from pig-latin.

The TypeMatrix Dvorak keyboard -- note that finger movements are drastically reduced, movements become more natural (fewer keys found on diagonal paths), and the world speed record was set using one. On the Bonneville Salt Flats. (JK)

I dunno how she beat you, but she made my day. Some kinda superwoman.

So, your comment made me think. Speaking another language does unique things for your sense of self: first, you feel like you've cloned yourself; second, you become more heroic because not only can you access another culture but its natives generally respond enthusiastically because you've done all the work to build a bridge to their curiosity (even in France where everyone speake a leetole eengleesh but few speak it well enough for their comfort); third, it creates a new galaxy of the ideas we associate with words -- new worlds of nuance and connotation that enhances your own perceptions because you gain new tools to hold ideas and think about things; fourth, something I can't define well, but it makes you more objective of the human condition; and fifth, it makes you feel SO damn urbane, Rico Suave Citizen of the World (perhaps a justified conceit). As your comment about your Norvege friend suggests to me and evoking the competitive thread in our nature, speaking someone's tongue better than they speak yours is sublime one-upsmanship. Seriously.

Oh, and then there's the fun of eavesdropping on unguarded supermarket conversations between people who assume Americans won't understand.

Finally, subtitles suck.