*smooch* (ldy) wrote,

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Poker, poker, who's got the poker?*

I think there was love snuck in between hates,
and all these hates are loves, too, I suppose.**

Compare that to "I'll be wearing a dark suit and a longing look in my eyes."

If one questions whether sweetness is saccharine, it it a reflection of a bitter heart? Or merely a taste for realism?

If one questions whether hate is love, it is a reflection of a dichotomous heart? Or merely a yearning for fantasy?

I begin to suffer the illusion that I see myself as a reflection of others, when I know deep down that others are seen as a reflection of myself.

I'm overly-analytical, I know. No more thinking! Dammit, Jim, I'm a writer, not a philosopher!

Though come to think of it, we are all philosophers. And perhaps that is why I enjoyed Saturday's play so completely: because it represents the internal struggle that goes on in my own brain every day; the rectification of left brain and right, of scientific methodology and meaning and truth and beauty.

To say nothing of the inner Bertrand Russell who appreciates a good fuck.*

So, half of me is moved by poetry, the other half is driven to scansion.*** But it is important to note that the more one analyzes a situation, the farther one is removed from it. This much I know is true.

So, enough with the infernal internal dialogue. Time to focus on work.

Everything will work out. It always does**** :)

* A reference to Fly Bottle. And another reference to Fly Bottle.
** I find it funny that I write in pentameter sometimes. I don't even like writing in that meter, really; iambic particularly. I usually tend to lean towards the anapestic, the trochaic and the dactylic, and often complain about having three left feet, when of course there can be only one.
*** We won't talk about the third half.
**** Just because that's an inductively valid assumption doesn't mean it will happen... but betcher bottom dollar that tomorrow... it will all work out ;) (And somewhere a true philosopher groans)
!!! In keeping with the theme of this entry, one might say I wax prosodic, and shave with occam's razor. (How parsimonious of me, really.)
@@@ I describe my feelings through obscure references to poetry, star trek, highlander, mathematics, philosophy and terrible puns. Man, I really AM a geek, aren't I.

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