Its May Day.
The Beltane fires are burning. Walpurga has walked.
A putative day off for proles around the world. And the intergalactic workers as well, Space Truckin' their way through the nebulae.
Too bad it falls on a Sunday.
Tho' even on this day of rest and recuperation, there's a bustle in my hedgerow -- the spring clean for the May queen continues.
A vain Projector for so long, my tempest-tost head is reeling with productive possibilities, while my passions are firmly in the grippe of a virulent yet vitalizing strain of biblophagia.
On this evening 228 years ago, Samuel Johnson remarked to James Boswell and a young Edmund Burke that "it is strange that there should be so little reading in the world, and so much writing. People in general do not willingly read, if they can have any thing else to amuse them. There must be an external impulse; emulation, or vanity, or avarice. The progress which the understanding makes through a book, has more pain than pleasure in it."
Its May, and we're all after something.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.
Maypole Song by
From Boswell to Plant - what a phalic journey.
ReplyDelete"It is strange that there should be so little [blog] reading in the world, and so much [blogg]ing. People in general do not willingly read [blogs], if they can have any thing else to amuse them." Ain't it strange, FEL, that I still read your blogging? I must not have any thing else to amuse me.
ReplyDeleteI gotta tell ya Fisheye you can write 'em and pick 'em. There's a lesson in that post. In that tune. Something about the innocence before the pain. A tense freshness. Like opening the shutters to the lush hills of the motherland. It makes me feel good, but in a bad way, which ,in turn, makes me feels good again.
ReplyDelete