September 22, 2009

  • Post college apocalypse, Day 158

    And with our pockets full of rocks, we all fall down.

    At least some of us.  We are falling hard.

    Where is the philosopher?  Where is the songbird?  They are drowned in the drink; they are washed in their shame; they are saturated in the emptiness of their beds night after night.  Where is their insight?  It is lost.  Where is their dance with the heavens?  It is forgotten.

    Stupidity is their king.  Lawlessness rules us all.

    I mourn you.  Please come back.  You are never too late.