Tonight, it’s simply sadness. Personal sadness. It’s what-might-have-been. It’s throwing a pearl away, richer than all our tribe. Tonight the fuckers don’t matter. They aren’t even the point.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Plus ça Changiness
There will be plenty of time for I-told-you-sos. Plenty of time for dissections – even the celebration – of the dissolutions of institutions. Plenty of time for ruminations on the rise and fall of cults – and on the presence of absences. Plenty of time for analyses of the upside of divided government. Plenty of time for dancing on the graves of the misogynists and Village Idiots – along with visits to Maureen in Arkham, Nancy in a houseboat in Mendocino, and Donna trolling away in chat rooms.
Tonight, it’s simply sadness. Personal sadness. It’s what-might-have-been. It’s throwing a pearl away, richer than all our tribe. Tonight the fuckers don’t matter. They aren’t even the point.
Tonight, it’s simply sadness. Personal sadness. It’s what-might-have-been. It’s throwing a pearl away, richer than all our tribe. Tonight the fuckers don’t matter. They aren’t even the point.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment