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No politics this post, unfortunately. I have other things to write… - the apologetic nature of society is sickening [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

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[May. 19th, 2004|01:43 pm]
[vicious mood swing of the moment |hyperhyper]
[the sweet, sweet sounds of |DFA--"Our Lord And Savior"]

No politics this post, unfortunately. I have other things to write about.


This morning I was woken up by our neighbors' yappy beasts from hell. This old man owns six tiny dogs that have no real developed vocal chords. They do not bark. They instead yip loudly...outside my window. Apparently four of them had broken loose this morning and were stalking a cat outside on our lawn; however, instead of being quiet (like you would assume animals stalking their prey would be) they were all yipping at it. Finally the man came outside to gather them up and they all swarmed around his ankles and yipped at him. The only amusing part was when he tripped over a dog and landed on his rear end (I only laughed when I was sure he hadn't broken a hip)...and the four hellbeasts climbed on top of him and yapped at him some more. Hence the reason why I was wide awake at six o'clock this morning.

So I went downstairs and danced for an hour, all the while with an ice pack on my knee to keep the swelling down, and then worked out for another hour. I can bench press 150 pounds, a fact I'm somewhat proud of. I say somewhat because I am not that much of an exercise fanatic to measure my worth by what I can bench press. I merely lift weights in order to keep in shape for dancing.

Then I came back up & read some more James Joyce. And that has been my exciting day so far.

For Morgan, who asked:

Chidiock Tichborne lived in the 1500's, circa 1568-1586. He was part of a prominent Catholic family and was part of the Babington conspiracy to assassinate Queen Elizabeth. He was arrested, tried, and was hanged and quartered on September 20th, 1586. It is probable that he was no more than eighteen.

His elegy, which I will post, is my favorite poem ever.

Tichborne's Elegy

(written with his own hand in the Tower before his execution)


My prime of youth is but a frost of cares.

My fest of joy is but a dish of pain.

My crop of corn is but a field of tares.

And all my good is but vain hope of gain.

The day is past, and yet I saw no sun.

And now I live, and now my life is done.


My tale was heard, and yet it was not told.

My fruit is fall'n and yet my leaves are green.

My youth is spent, and yet I am not old.

I saw the world and yet I was not seen.

My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun.

And now I live, and now my life is done.


I sought my death, and found it in my womb.

I looked for life and saw it was a shade.

I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb.

And now I die, and now I was but made.

My glass is full, and now my glass is run.

And now I live, and now my life is done.




From: (Anonymous)
2004-05-19 09:15 pm (UTC)
You're such a nerd. I love it.

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