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What I Read in the Waiting Room of Hell

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From the Tongues of Angels

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Member since 02/2005

« COURTING VICTORY | Main | WHITE HOUSE CON »

July 12, 2005

Comments

Matt

oy--ahoy--

tonight I come pre-sauced, arriving from a gathering of liberals, drinking liberally.

alas, with work yet to do, I can not tarry, but do wish to share at least one round with old friends.

What's on tap this evening?

The Heretik

Tonight I recommend the Anchor Liberty Ale. And thanks for the link. Is Joseph from PublicOrg with you?

Matt

Anchor Liberty Ale it is, then! Much obliged.

Joseph was out at DL tonight. I believe that the writer of Bouphonia was there, too, though I'm not certain.

It was a big crowd.

Matt

regarding the link -- of course -- thank *you* for writing such a kick-ass post.

The Heretik

Linked Bou today.

carla

Good evening, all.

Drinking Liberally in our neck of the woods is this Thursday evening at the Lucky Lab. Come over and join us around 8PM.

First Hef is on me.

Matt

actually, that was the first time I had seen that site -- and I remembered, after I followed your link, that I heard that name tonight.

cookie jill

Send an arsenic laced something or other to Novak et al.

Matt

Hi Carla -- hi cookie jill!

The Heretik

Jillian, time will have its own justice.

carla

Hi Matt!

Novak--(shudder)

If ever a man had some hard karma coming his way, it's Satan Novak.

Rove has at least as much.

The Heretik

Change is gonna come. Bush's loyalty is going to come back and bite him that place where people get bitten.

carla

Indeed Heretik. Indeed.

I'm off to the bath to soak with the latest issue of Sunset Magazine. It's time to shed the political and indulge in the botanical.

Sweet dreams.

Matt

bye carla -- good night.

Heretik, Courting Victory sounds intriguing.

The Heretik

Yeah, we have a few things to work out. Will be similar in feel to BBA.

Karen

Hey, Heretik!! Haven't been here in a while and I've missed it. Looks like a steady stream of excellent posts!!

cookie jill

Hey Matt! Get your "Tattered Coat" fixed yet? ;-)

cookie jill

Mr. Heretik...you mean revenge is a dish best served "cold?"

Amanda Marcotte

I'll be having beer with my maudlin country music. Has anyone ever listened to the lyrics to "I Love You, Honey" by Patsy Cline? My new theory is it's feminist subversion that borrows male-defined phallic symbols.

Down in dallas, near the palace
I met a boy who was so cute
I loved his huggin', i loved his kissin'
As we sat in his little red coupe
He said, tell me, confidentially
How much do you love me
Well, i thought awhile and then i smiled
And this is what i told him, dontcha see

I love you honey, i love your money
I love your automobile
I love you baby, i don't mean maybe
You're the sweetest thing on wheels
I love your kisses, i wouldn't miss it
No matter how i feel
I love you honey, i love your money
Most of all i love your automobile

The Heretik

Thank you, Karen. We only serve the finest people and so must have standards. Jillian, Novak will be eating at the cold buffet for a while.

Matt

Karen: I agree. The Heretik has been on a hell of a roll lately. And I love the wider column -- it allows the posts to breathe.

Cookie Jill: did you happen to drop by when it was broken? I did have some trouble the other day...rumor has it that Karl Rove visited the site and left a trail of slime all over the gears, mucking things up. But all is better now.

How are you doing?

Neruda

The light wraps you in its mortal flame.
Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way
against the old propellers of the twilight
that revolves around you.

Speechless, my friend,
alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead
and filled with the lives of fire,
pure heir of the ruined day.

A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment.
The great roots of night grow suddenly from your soul,
and the things that hide in you come out again
so that a blue and pallid people,
your newly born, takes nourishment.

Oh magnificent and fecund and magnetic slave
of the circle that moves in turn through black and gold:
rise, lead and possess a creation
so rich in life that its flowers perish
and it is full of sadness.

Neruda

Thinking, tangling shadows in the deep solitude.
You are far away too, oh farther than anyone.
Thinking, freeing birds, dissolving images,
burying lamps.

Belfry of fogs, how far away, up there!
Stifling laments, milling shadowy hopes,
taciturn miller,
night falls on your face downward, far from the city.

Your presence is foreign, as strange to me as a thing.
I think, I explore great tracts of my life before you.
My life before anyone, my harsh life.
The shout facing the sea, among the rocks,
running free, mad, in the sea-spray.
The sad rage, the shout, the solitude of the sea.
Headlong, violent, stretched towards the sky.

You, woman, what were you there, what ray, what vane
of that immense fan? You were as far as you are now.
Fire in the forest! Burn in blue crosses.
Burn, burn, flame up, sparkle in trees of light.

It collapses, crackling. Fire. Fire.
And my soul dances, seared with curls of fire.
Who calls? What silence peopled with echoes?
Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude,
hour that is mine from among them all!

Hunting horn through which the wind passes singing.
Such a passion of weeping tied to my body.
Shaking of all the roots,
attack of all the waves!
My soul wandered, happy, sad, unending.

Thinking, burying lamps in the deep solitude.

Who are you, who are you?

Agitprop

I feel the love! I came prepared with beer in hand. Peace and love to all...

Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, "The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance."

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

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