rigorousintuition.ca

Project Willow wrote:

MacCruiskeen wrote: But jesus, Harvey! (and everyone else): Please don't formulate a farewell to the board that is brief and cryptic and includes the words "I would rather die.".

I got the opposite lesson in December. I used very vague language and hardly anyone took notice. I thought that meant I should go ahead and get it over with already.

Please don't do that.

.

John Keats wrote:for many a time / I have been half in love with easeful Death

Who doesn't know it? Life is deeply horrible at times, not least for Keats. Yet I know of few sadder endings to a life than his horribly early death at the age of 24 (not by suicide but of TB).

I'm not really a fan of Shaw, but I always liked his reply when he was asked how he felt on his 90th birthday:

George Bernard Shaw wrote:It's better than the alternative.

Not knowing the alternative, I'm forced to agree.

ON ÉDIT: I kept fucking up the format. One of the many tiny pleasures in life is being able to correct trivial errors in posts hardly anyone will ever read.

If you think this is pathetic, compare death.

Simulist wrote: (And really... There's a whole WORLD to piss off, so I'm sticking around until the job's done.)

Yep, I'm only here out of spite.

(Not true really, but it's fun to say.)

Yeah. My partner and I sometimes call each other "Statler" and "Waldorf" — in anticipation for when we're both grouchy old farts like those guys in the balcony of The Muppet Show.

lol

Project Willow wrote:

MacCruiskeen wrote: But jesus, Harvey! (and everyone else): Please don't formulate a farewell to the board that is brief and cryptic and includes the words "I would rather die.".

I got the opposite lesson in December. I used very vague language and hardly anyone took notice. I thought that meant I should go ahead and get it over with already.

It's not the most rational place to be, and I hope Harvey is far away from that place.

Sorry I missed that, Willow. I would have tried to help if I hadn't.

"Well, kiss my arse, you fuckers, I'm doing this anyway."

- a very old, very good actor I had the privilege of working with, seconds before he made his first entrance, in front of nearly a thousand people, in a premiere that wasn't going well at all.

I always thought this was a model for life, life being what it is.

He didn’t leave a note.

The worst is to come upon them after. Pale blue hue, eyes bulging, blood dark on the floor and bright on glass. You feel that is all your mind is - glass. A grave diving horror reaches out for the last time you saw him. You were walking down the gulch. Said something about if there was magic in the old days it didn’t go away. We did. He talked about why he always wore boots. You can’t remember what he said. You should have known, though it would not have mattered, when he said, “when I die, I want to be cremated.”

“Why you telling me this?”
“So you can roll me up and smoke me.”

A few days of rooms full of trembling hands, feint smiles, eyes you never saw so dark before, and all you want to do is head for the woods, but even that seems crazy. Everyone wanting to know why, and you thought of so many smart ass things to say when people would ask you. There was nothing left. He no longer enjoyed his own farts. As a chemist, it was unacceptable. Things he would have laughed at.

At the end of it his mother comes out of the bedroom she had disappeared to for so long as you lay his sister down dead drunk on the couch. The mother of darkness moves with the sound of windy silk and strokes her hair.

“Thank god she’s nothing like him,” she whispers.

She hands you a small piece of paper without looking at you. Pale blue sticky note. You look at it and on it is your name scrawled in pencil, hard, with a smiley face in the O.

“It was in his boot,” she says.

You look out the window and see the snow still on the highlands clinging to the scars of hard rock beneath the moonlight.

Out on the porch Lucy and Derek are asleep, and old uncle Lucky is on the old davaneu staring off at the stars. You close your eyes and feel your soul hurtling through the exploding abyss of the universe. You hear a voice speak in every fiber of your being. You do not know what any of this means.

And you know it’s him. Inside of you, outside of time.

You can hear the 150 ton engines in the pit. You can see the dust settling along the divide. You realize you are not what you are. And there is no love through love.

look ya'all, camp fire's always burning somewhere, come on by, I'm not in a great place at the moment, but things will swing for a few more decades don't forget how it all ends, we "win" - already done so. Come on by anytime

http://rigorousintuition.ca/board2/view ... 88#p451088


anyway, it's a truism that every spiritual peak is followed by a fallow, just the way it goes

justdrew wrote:look ya'all, camp fire's always burning somewhere, come on by, I'm not in a great place at the moment, but things will swing for a few more decades don't forget how it all ends, we "win" - already done so. Come on by anytime

http://rigorousintuition.ca/board2/view ... 88#p451088


anyway, it's a truism that every spiritual peak is followed by a fallow, just the way it goes

It's Spring in England
Rigorous Intuition
A snowdrop opens

I'm late again. Story of my life.

All I can say is there are too few of *us* already.

Don't nobody go nowhere, OK?

Ah, searcher, crocus are my favorite. That & wild bluebells in the forest...

...

I really love Harvey.

I hope and pray he is well.

I really hope and pray you are all well.

...