When the new trick the old dog needs to learn is hundreds of years old:

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I water’d it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veil’d the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch’d beneath the tree.

– William Blake

A lesson in humility, part 16,988.

Last night, around six p.m., I had about 25 people show up at my house, mostly costumed, all enthusiastic and ready to take on the world. They left a few hours later, and I sat awake between two and four this morning bawling my eyes out. This requires some explanation, obviously. Every once in a

When you get off, where exactly the fuck ARE you?

I diagnosed myself with what might be a new malady: Virtual Perception Dysmorphia. An acquaintance was explaining to someone who may or may not have an anger management problem that perhaps expressing himself online as himself might not be the best path and perhaps inventing a separate angry identity might be helpful. In retrospect, this

One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.

Looking foolish does the spirit good. The need not to look foolish is one of youth’s many burdens; as we get older we are exempted from more and more, and float upward in our heedlessness, singing Gratia Dei sum quod sum. - John Updike. So, let’s be foolish. And tuneful. Here’s the link to the music

Bring Him Home

So, the new trailer for what will likely be an absolutely glorious version of the musical was released Monday. I cried, but see, I ALWAYS cry when it comes to most anything that has to do with Les Miserables, and it’s for this reason: When I was eleven, there was a two-part miniseries based on

Clean plates, cleaner consciences.

I know a change is gonna come.

Wax this. Sometimes you can spend entirely too much time waiting for the other metaphorical shoe to drop. It’s time to shrug off sadness, banish worry, hold your fucking nose and jump into the pool already. The only thing this gal’s gonna worry about dropping is that shiny, shiny ball that’ll land at the bottom