Wandering by lone sea breakers

and sitting by desolate streams.
There once was a man from the city, Whose girl was incredibly pretty. She’d wait there awake, though he worked really late, as his rhymes were exceptionally witty.

There once was a man from the city, Whose girl was incredibly pretty. She’d wait there awake, though he worked really late, as his rhymes were exceptionally witty.

An olympian came to fill the shoes you knew
He could reach the sockets I never could never twist
So now you can cross me off that god damned list.

—Slow Club - Dance to the Morning Light

Save me from everyone else Slow Club. You are cute in the extreme.

Tired, disappointed and bored. These are not the best days of my life.

Tired, disappointed and bored. These are not the best days of my life.

The internet is for…

Listening to Regina:

Apres moi, le deluge

Which in my rough French translates to  ‘After me comes the flood’. But where’s that from.

Queue the internet.

When I die, let earth and fire mix:
It matters not to me, for my affairs will be unaffected.

A fragment of a tragedy whose author has not been identified (Tragicorum Fragmenta Adespota, 513 Nauck)

Awesome. Thanks Tim.

The truth is

I’m a work in progress.

postscript - and I think that means less of them and more of me.

One of my favourites

ODE
Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamer of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

…

Great hail! we cry to the corners
From the dazzling unknown shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers,
And renew our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song’s new numbers,
And things that we dreamt not before;
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no more.

Read the whole thing here.