Sunday, September 7, 2014

words of the man 9.7.14

"In spring, the sweet young spring, decked out with little green,
necklaced, braceleted with the song of idiotic birds, spurious and
sweet and tawdry as a shopgirl in her cheap finery, like an idiot with
money and no taste; they were little and young and trusting, you could
kill them sometimes. But now, as august like languorous replete bird
winged slowly through the pale summer to the moon of decay and death,
they were bigger, vicious; ubiquitous as undertakers, cunning as
pawnbrokers, confident and unavoidable as politicians. They came
cityward lustful as country boys, as passionately integral as a
college football squad; pervading and monstrous but without majesty: a
biblical plague seen through the wrong end of a binocular: the majesty
of fate become comptemptuous through ubiquity and sheer repitition."

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