I'm runnin' outta gas....
Yes, a sword of Damocles hangs above my head in the form of hundreds of applications from people desperate to be professional intellectuals. They endless sheets of paper in hopes that they can come be abused by the system, faculty, older students with an eye toward becoming one of the abusers someday.
Maybe that should be termed, "The Mailbin of Damocles."
It doesn't help the motivational level to listen to "Blue Moon Nights" by John Fogerty. Its a perfect song of desperation of another kind; the kind that has the singer no longer looking too hard at people who have found the love of another, but hoping for it just the same. He's asking the world for a hand, as though its his last chance. Life is rolling on, but maybe not for long. He's asking for someone to see him through it. It's sadder than hell, made all the sadder for the rockabilly rhythm that just hops along. It takes me right to another song, "Blue Days, Black Nights" from Buddy Holly. Same wistful melody and anguished lyrics in front of a pleasant, danceable rhythm.
Jeeezus! Where's my bourbon?
Maybe that should be termed, "The Mailbin of Damocles."
It doesn't help the motivational level to listen to "Blue Moon Nights" by John Fogerty. Its a perfect song of desperation of another kind; the kind that has the singer no longer looking too hard at people who have found the love of another, but hoping for it just the same. He's asking the world for a hand, as though its his last chance. Life is rolling on, but maybe not for long. He's asking for someone to see him through it. It's sadder than hell, made all the sadder for the rockabilly rhythm that just hops along. It takes me right to another song, "Blue Days, Black Nights" from Buddy Holly. Same wistful melody and anguished lyrics in front of a pleasant, danceable rhythm.
Jeeezus! Where's my bourbon?
posted by Harry at 5:50 PM
5 Comments:
More, more! More desperate wailings from the oppressive inner belly of the beast that is higher "education"! Conflate more melancholy blues-rock with the hopeless scratchings of a bureaucrat! Cast more upon us the spittle-flecks of your relentless despair! We revel in your misery -- and it is a miserly revelry indeed!
Jeeezus! Where's my bourbon?
Ah... So that is why the Dean of Admissions let me in... He was pissed on Bourbon(!)
We revel in your misery ...
Yes, Harry. Let's revel. I'll bring the bourbon - what's your brand? I'm sure you and Hip and I could make really short work of those apps...
Howz it goin? Here's to hoping you've found your bourbon and this year's grad students - the two of which will mingle with you amidst great philosophical discussions that in the end will solve all of the world's problems...
Or at least give you some laughs ;-)
Right you are, Wiggy! We'llhave it alltied down by May 19.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!
Or, at least, I will be sipping bourbon that night, congratulating myself on survivng another year, assuming I do.
I might even sip bourbon before then. One never knows, do one?
;-)
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