September 09, 2004 - 5:26 p.m.
TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 07 2004 11:55 AM"I do entreat your grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold,
Nor how it may concern my modesty,
In such a presence here to plead my thoughts;
But I beseech your grace that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case,
If I refuse ...."
****
so the Clash is playing at work...
my boss just asked if i've ever stolen a girl away from her man before.;..
come to think of it...
not really.
i just collect people that are looking to turn new leaves...
hey, if you're not happy in your relationship... the best way to test new waters is to jump right in...
to bed with two girls ... right?
note: this happened three years ago and she's been happy ever since. I harbour deep respect for people's relationships, because i've certainly been on the receiving end of couple interception attempts... but... in the event that someone has set themselves adrift on a liferaft and are looking to be invited aboard and taken safely to friendly waters.. i'm in for some damsel DE stressing.
homewrecking. a topic full of vacillating contradictions and inherent hostility. Please read FAST GIRLS by Emily White...
these are dangerous waters...
Even Shakespeare.. ESPECIALLY Shakespeare, knew this...
this however, has nothing to do with anything.
what i really wanted to say is
thank you to Foozle for the fantastic art work, and thankyou to those who sent kisses to my wrist... after much monogamous fucking... (not the homewrecking kind) my whole body, including my arm.. is feeling great.
i cite Peaches as my inspiration in this tried and true therapy.
and leave you to think on more of Shakes' musings...
because really, everything goes back to Shakespeare,... eventually.
"Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,...
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name."
