I'm invited to a party in frosty Quebec tonight, a party I won't be party to.
It's a party to bid a temporary farewell and godspeed to a friend that I hardly see anyway. There is a certain irony entangled in there somewhere.
Ok, let's be honest. I have no interest in tumbling down a stairway of bars, breaking all arms and legs of common sense until all that's left standing is self-deceit. Enmeshed in the social network of strangers' ship, trawling for happiness in the Sea of Dionysus.
The taste of sour grapes fills my mouth.
I read a T.S. Eliot quote today:
"what we call the beginning is often
the end, and to make an end
is to make a beginning: The
end is where we start from."
So, perhaps I am to give a far off toast tonight, because as fellow walkers and wanderers, the further we drift away from home, the more we will travel hand in hand.
It's a party to bid a temporary farewell and godspeed to a friend that I hardly see anyway. There is a certain irony entangled in there somewhere.
Ok, let's be honest. I have no interest in tumbling down a stairway of bars, breaking all arms and legs of common sense until all that's left standing is self-deceit. Enmeshed in the social network of strangers' ship, trawling for happiness in the Sea of Dionysus.
The taste of sour grapes fills my mouth.
I read a T.S. Eliot quote today:
"what we call the beginning is often
the end, and to make an end
is to make a beginning: The
end is where we start from."
So, perhaps I am to give a far off toast tonight, because as fellow walkers and wanderers, the further we drift away from home, the more we will travel hand in hand.
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