Sunday, September 13, 2015


I would like to read Jude the Obscure once again.
It's been a long time, and I can tell that  -  were I to 
read it now, again, like so many other things  -  I'd
read it quite differently, and see it in another light.
Things are always changing, and that stream through
which you can't walk twice, is always running. Since
the last time I've : worked on engines, picked up whores,
slept with goats and men alike, painted houses, carried
books, worked like a dog for a penny a day, slept on flat 
boards, took nothing home, lost my coat, lost my jacket, 
crossed other people, climbed that big steeple  -  all the
things like that. You think then I'd still need to read about
some British chap stumbling over the Nicene Creed? Why
do we even have these things, and how do such styles
change? Having coffee in a coffee shop, reading that, now,
one would be considered deranged. I'm off my trumpet.
I'm out of key. I've fallen, and I can't get up.

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