Monday, January 24, 2005
weren't you always distracted by expectation?
--Rainer Maria Rilke
The thin whisps of steam rising from my Taylor's blend form a lazy contrast against the earthy green paint and leave me with a strange impression. Something reminds me of Rilke's Duino Elegies:
And when we could boil and phase out into the atmosphere in one terrific concerted blast, why settle for this subtle, slow loss of water and the unappealing fate of an animal's excretory system? Sometimes I feel like I'm just sitting on the table in some boring cosmic coffee house, waiting for someone to drink me up, and I'd rather he just poured me over some hot asphalt to watch me fizzle away in one glorious burst of fog.
But I guess it's up to Him. He paid for me.
The thin whisps of steam rising from my Taylor's blend form a lazy contrast against the earthy green paint and leave me with a strange impression. Something reminds me of Rilke's Duino Elegies:
For our part, when we feel we evaporate; ah, we breathe
ourselves out and away....
Like dew from the morning grass
what is ours rises from us, the way heat rises
from a steaming dish. O smile, going where? O upturned look:
new, warm receding surge of the heart--;
alas, we are that surge. Does then the cosmic space
we dissolve in taste of us?
And when we could boil and phase out into the atmosphere in one terrific concerted blast, why settle for this subtle, slow loss of water and the unappealing fate of an animal's excretory system? Sometimes I feel like I'm just sitting on the table in some boring cosmic coffee house, waiting for someone to drink me up, and I'd rather he just poured me over some hot asphalt to watch me fizzle away in one glorious burst of fog.
But I guess it's up to Him. He paid for me.
