In Memoriam

At the end of her life, what will they say?

What will end up being the remains of the day?

Of all she used to be, will they have a clue?

Of all she used to know…of all she in fact knew?


The passing rays that light up the dark,

Did they ever leave a mark?

The stories woven in her head,

What remains in their stead?

We say our goodbyes, we spin our lies,

We make a life of beauty, of days gone by.

After all, what is left to say

When what used to be finally goes.



Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Annabel Lee – Poe

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
   Of those who were older than we—
   Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
   Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
 For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
   In her sepulchre there by the sea—
   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Je Suis Comme Je Suis – Jacques Prevert

Je suis comme je suis

Je suis comme je suis

Je suis faite comme ça

Quand j’ai envie de rire

Oui je ris aux éclats

J’aime celui qui m’aime

Est-ce ma faute à moi

Si ce n’est pas le même

Que j’aime à chaque fois

Je suis comme je suis

Je suis faite comme ça

Que voulez-vous de plus

Que voulez-vous de moi

Je suis faite pour plaire

Et n’y puis rien changer

Mes talons sont trop hauts

Ma taille trop cambrée

Mes seins beaucoup trop durs

Et mes yeux trop cernés

Et puis après

Qu’est-ce que ça peut vous faire

Je suis comme je suis

Je plais à qui je plais

Qu’est-ce que ça peut vous faire

Ce qui m’est arrivé

Oui j’ai aimé quelqu’un

Oui quelqu’un m’a aimée

Comme les enfants qui s’aiment

Simplement savent aimer

Aimer aimer…

Pourquoi me questionner

Je suis là pour vous plaire

Et n’y puis rien changer.


I am what I am

I am what I am

I’m made that way

When I want to laugh

Yes I erupt with laughter

I love the one that loves me

Is it my fault
 If it’s not the same one

That I love each time

I am what I am

I’m made that way

What more do you want

What do you want from me

I’m made for pleasure

And nothing can change that

My heels are too high

My figure too curved

My breasts way too firm

And my eyes too darkly ringed

And then afterwards

What can you do about it

I am what I am

I please who I please

What can you do about it

What happened to me

Yes I loved someone

Yes someone loved me

Like children love each other

Simply knowing how to love 
love love…

Why ask me 
I’m here for your pleasure

And nothing can change that.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

I Am A Cat – Natsume Soseki

p. 245

“Those whose minds are not unwaveringly concentrated upon the pursuit of ultimate truth are normally misled by the mere appearances, however unreal, of the phenomenal world. They tend to accept what they directly see and feel, not as some empty froth of illusion but as manifestations of an eternal reality. Consequently, if someone says anything even slightly out of the ordinary, such prisoners of their senses have no choice but to treat the communication as a joke.”


The swallow and the sparrow see no use

In things that, to the eagle and the goose,

Are plainly useful. It could even be

That from their littleness the little see

Nothing whatever of Immensity.”


p. 247

“Men are supposed to be clever, but they all have the same weakness: they follow established patterns without questioning the reason for their establishment.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

I Am A Cat – Natsume Soseki

p. 243

“One thing at least is certain,” said my master. “If civilization continues its rapid development along its present lines, I would not wish to live and witness it.”

“The choice is yours. As Seneca advises, no man should carp at life when the road to freedom runs down every vein. Why don’t you do yourself in?” Waverhouse helpfully enquired.

“I care rather less for dying than I do for living.”

“No one seems to pay much attention when he’s being born, but everybody makes no end of a fuss about his departure.” Coldmoon offers his own cool comment.

“It’s the same with money,” says Waverhouse. “When one borrows money, one does so lightly, but everyone worries like crazy when it comes to paying it back.”

“Happy are they who don’t worry about repayment; as happy as those who do not worry about death,” intoned Singleman in his most lofty and unworldly style.

“I suppose you’d argue that the bravest in the face of death are those who are most enlightened?”

“Most certainly. Perhaps you know the Zen phrase ‘The iron-ox-heart of an iron-ox-face: the ox-iron-heart of an ox-iron-face?’”

“And are you claiming to be so ox-and-iron-hearted?” Waverhouse, who happened to know that the phrase meant to have a heart so strong as to be undisturbed by anything, doubted that Singleman would dare make such a claim.


Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

I Am A Cat – Natsume Soseki

Thus, as I review the list of my friends and acquaintances, most of them emerge as stained with maniac stigmata of one sort or another. l begin to feel considerably reassured. The truth may simply be that human society is no more than a massing of lunatics. Perhaps our vaunted social organization is merely a kind of bear-garden, where lunatics gather together, grapple desperately, bicker and tussle with each other, call each other filthy names, tumble and sprawl all over each other in mindless muckiness. This agglomeration of lunatics thus becomes a living organism which, like cells, disintegrates and coalesces, crumbles again to nothing and again reintegrates. Is that not the actual nature of our marvelous human society? And within that organism, such few cells as are slightly sensible and exhibit symptoms of discretion inevitably prove a nuisance to the rest. So they find themselves confined in specially constructed lunatic asylums. It would follow that, objectively speaking, those locked up in mental homes are sane, while those careering around outside the walls are all as mad as hatters. An individual lunatic, so long as he’s kept isolated, can be treated as a lunatic, but when lunatics get together and, so massed, acquire the strength of numbers, they also automatically acquire the sanity of numbers. Many lunatics are, by their maniness, healthy persons. It is not uncommon that a powerful lunatic, abusing the authority of his wealth and with myriad minor madmen in his pay, behaves outrageously, but is nevertheless honored and praised by all and sundry as a paragon of human virtue. I just don’t understand anything any more.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

I Am A Cat – Natsume Soseki

Volume II – Ch. I

In the first place it is my opinion that the sky was made to shelter all creation, and that the earth was made so that all things created that were able to stand might have something to stand on. Even those human beings who love argument for the arguing’s sake could surely not deny this fact. Next we may ask to what extent did human effort contribute to the creation of heaven and earth, and the answer is that it contributed nothing. What right, then, do human beings hold to decide that things not of their own creation nevertheless belong to them? Of course the absence of right need not prevent such creatures from making that decision, but surely there can be no possible justification for them prohibiting others from innocent passage in and out of so-called human property. If it be accepted that Mr. So-and-so may set up stakes, fence off sections of this boundless earth, and register that area as his own, what is to prevent such persons from roping off blue sky, from staking claims on heaven, an enclosure of the air?
If natural law permitted proprietorial parceling-out of the land and its sale and purchase at so much the square foot, then it would also permit partition of the air we breathe at so much the cubic unit and its three-dimensional sale. If, however, it is not proper to trade in sky, if enclosure of the empyrean is not regarded as just in natural law, then surely it must follow that all land-ownership is unnatural and irrational.


“And to whom do you think we are indebted for that brilliant logical analysis, which, by its simple explanation of this seeming anomaly, has rescued us forever from the dark abyss of doubt? It was that famous Greek philosopher, the greatest of all scholars since scholarship began, the renowned founder of the Peripatetic School, Aristotle himself. His explanation—I say, Sneaze, please stop flogging that cake-dish and pay a little more attention—may be summarized thus. The prizes awarded at Greek contests were worth more than the performances that earned them, for the prizes were intended not only to stimulate effort but to reward achievement. Consequently, if one were to give a prize for intellectual prowess, for knowledge itself, one would have to find something to award which was more valuable than knowledge. But knowledge already is the rarest gem in the world. The Greeks, unwilling to debase the value of knowledge, piled up chests all crammed with gold to the height of Mount Olympus. They gathered in the wealth of Croesus, and wealth beyond that wealth, but in the end they recognized that the value of knowledge cannot be matched, let alone exceeded. So, masters of reason that they were, they decided that the prize should be nothing at all. From this, Suzuki, I trust you will have learnt that, whatever the color of your money, it is worthless stuff compared with learning. Let us accordingly apply this revealed truth, this fundamental principle, to the particular problem that has arisen today. Surely you’re bound to see that Goldfield’s merely a paper man, a bill of exchange with eyes and a nose scrawled onto it. If I may put it epigrammatically, the man’s no more than an animated banknote. And if he’s money in motion, currency one might say, his daughter’s nothing but a circulating promissory note.


Ch. 2:

Since I am a truly unusual cat, one born into this world with a mission demanding purely mental activity, I am responsible for safeguarding the inestimable worth of my own rarity. As the proverb says, “The rich man’s son is never seated at the edge of the raised hall.” I, too, am far too precious to be exposed to the danger of a tumble into calamity. If sheer vainglory led me to run such risks, I would not only be inviting personal disaster but flouting the evident will of Heaven. However, even the fiercest tiger, once installed in a zoo, settles down resignedly next to some filthy pig. Even the largest of wild geese, once in the poulterer’s hands, must finish up on the selfsame chopping board as the scrawniest chickling. Consequently, for as long as I consort with ordinary men, I must conduct myself as if I were an ordinary cat. Ordinary cats catch rats. This long but faultless chain of logic leads to but one conclusion. I have finally decided to catch a rat.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized