I just found a 2008 William Blake Calendar that I must have bought a while back for myself and then forgot about. My son got me a rather over-decorated new-agey calendar for Christmas that I must display in the kitchen, because that is what one does with gifts from one's children no matter how old they are. (Besides, every time I look at it I'm reminded that he loves his mom.)
So I've put Blake in the spare room where I hope to paint someday... if I can ever get it emptied of stuff I don't know what to do with...
Thanks love. I've almost got the phone situation figured out. Miss talking to you.
Oh right! The phone situation! Bloody hell! Forgot about that..
Wish I could see the calendar. I just discovered I somehow ended up with a Complete Works of Blake, which includes not just Blake As Mystic Iconoclast, or even Blake as Very Cranky, Seething Frustrated Iconoclast, but rather even contains marginalia (Blake yelling at other writers) and even Blake As Leering Smutmaster. Really. When I'm in a sadistic mood, I'll copy out some of Island on the Moon. 'Dr. Johnson can kiss my Roman Anus!' etc, ect, ad infinitum. A brilliant mind, spinning on it's own loony, smutty little pointless hamster wheel.
You can feel the palpable boredom. He had made a fatal mistake in terms of who he married, and there was no internet then.
Oh great. NOW I got a 'please prove you are human' message, before I could comment to my own journal.
I love it! 'Please prove you are human'! I'm NOT human! I'm a Lemurian! An Atlantean! Even better- I'm a Star Child, ooching across the great void of antimatter like some antimatter cockroach, then popping up through the roselike center of a nebula, to partake of the horrors of your universe! To collect DATA! Oy vey...
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I just found a 2008 William Blake Calendar that I must have bought a while back for myself and then forgot about. My son got me a rather over-decorated new-agey calendar for Christmas that I must display in the kitchen, because that is what one does with gifts from one's children no matter how old they are. (Besides, every time I look at it I'm reminded that he loves his mom.)
So I've put Blake in the spare room where I hope to paint someday... if I can ever get it emptied of stuff I don't know what to do with...
Thanks love. I've almost got the phone situation figured out. Miss talking to you.
Reply
Wish I could see the calendar. I just discovered I somehow ended up with a Complete Works of Blake, which includes not just Blake As Mystic Iconoclast, or even Blake as Very Cranky, Seething Frustrated Iconoclast, but rather even contains marginalia (Blake yelling at other writers) and even Blake As Leering Smutmaster. Really. When I'm in a sadistic mood, I'll copy out some of Island on the Moon. 'Dr. Johnson can kiss my Roman Anus!' etc, ect, ad infinitum. A brilliant mind, spinning on it's own loony, smutty little pointless hamster wheel.
You can feel the palpable boredom. He had made a fatal mistake in terms of who he married, and there was no internet then.
I miss talking to you so much!
Reply
Reply
I love it! 'Please prove you are human'! I'm NOT human! I'm a Lemurian! An Atlantean! Even better- I'm a Star Child, ooching across the great void of antimatter like some antimatter cockroach, then popping up through the roselike center of a nebula, to partake of the horrors of your universe! To collect DATA! Oy vey...
Reply
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