talmuzic said:

Was the place open? I'll see you next week - starts at 7-ish.

Just read this, old man Beau:

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

T. S. Eliot

S`io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, `` What is it? ''
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening.
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains.
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys.
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me.
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, ``Do I dare?'' and, ``Do I dare?''
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--
[They will say: ``How his hair is growing thin!'']
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--
[They will say: ``But how his arms and legs are thin!'']
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all--
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all--
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep. . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: `` I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all''--
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: ``That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.''

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor--
And this, and so much more?--
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow, or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
``That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.''
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous--
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old . . . I grow old . . .
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.


I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

So did you have Big party ? 40th Birthday's a good oppurtunity to inflict some major Live music on your friends and relatives. I'll never forget my brother in-law giving a performance with his band in the backyard on his 40th. Painfully wierd experience...

I sent a few things to you snail mail. Don't worry, I didn't have spend anything on the postage!

Just a little something from cafepress and something I put together. So two packages should be arriving sometime soon.

I hope you can find time to listen to the one package as I think it will inspire your live music set list.

Tequila and doughnuts? Are you kidding? Not vodka and pizza? Congrats! Joyeaux Anniversaire!I'll be 22 next month...

Age ain't nuthin but a numba....








Jshua

well. I awoke this morning, and everything seems to be the same... I still wet the bed, I still drool on myself, I still shout profanities uncontrollably.

It's GREAT TO BE ME!!

Happy Birthday!

otan said:

My Brother! And I thought i was alone in this. Happy Beau-rth Day!

otan said:

DAng, that's sad.

hey otan, i just turned 20 today

i had my year of partying, and yes, i've been very lucky to come out clean from it.

Jem said:

Yeah, man, slow down, you better take it easy.

Sheeyit. What I'd give to be twenty again.

All I have to say is the 20's sucked. I'm glad to have them behind me.

heartbeatocean said:

Co-sign on that. I spent halve of my 20s painting myself into a corner and the other halve fighting my way out of it.

hectim said:

It was mess.

otan said:

Happy Birthday. I'll be 25 this coming tuesday (March 29th) *hint hint*

Hehe.


dork is me

Natalie Nicole
http://www.indy-soul.com
Stay safe and happy

bassmaniac said:

Yea... I hit 40 too...this past september... a few grey's but nothing major... unless you consider the fact that I'm now engaged to be Married in May '05 !!!

Now THAT is life-changing... not turning 40 !!!

Wow! Did you have a dinosaur for a pet?

beret1022 said:

" if you don't wanna lick my knees... I'm sure, yo momma will..."

U Got To be DEAD... On it..

Beau, you ain't old.

Age is only what people make of it- a relative thing, really.

Now, if you were George Burns old, then you might reflect the branding of "old".

DownTheNeedleDownTheSpoon said:

I will Not!

Flashpointe said:

Co-sign!


and Bliss!

jshua