Listening to: Lauren's HAWT Summer mix (yes, I finally got my mix!)
If you're here to join in August's mixmania! - HELLO!!! - click this link!
Whether it's been this early August heat or my dismal attempts to quit smoking, I dunno but something's been buzzing bad, a bee in my bonnet no less noisier than the loose bowling ball and feral cat locked in the trunk of my car. So subjected to such insane disharmony, I've managed to play asshat thoughout the internets without a hint of flair, elan, or class.
It started the other night when I went after GraceD's friend in a very unkind way. Now, anyone who knows me will attest that my passions never run lukewarm but my ire (and a few beers) got the best of my questionable judgement. I didn't know Grace was chummy with the dude (not that would have mattered, frankly) but I apparently broke the rules of civil discourse and the sentence for that is persona non grata.
A little later I took my big bat over to Outside In and pummelled Vicki for posting the personal information of a young girl who dared to write to soldiers in Iraq and state she did not support the war. Vicki's on vacation and so it took her awhile to correct the posting of personal information and state her intention was not to ridicule the girl. Still, I get the sense that I stepped on a few toes and hurt some feelings.
To Grace and Vicki, I sincerely apologize for being impolitic. I'm a loud-mouthed lefty and a pusillanimous Irishman, not looking for a fight but never backing down. If I'm to be faulted for the temperment of my passions, I'll let Marianne Moore speak for me with her superb "What Are Years?":
What is our innocence,
what is our guilt? All are
naked, none is safe. And whence
is courage: the unanswered question,
the resolute doubt, -
dumbly calling, deafly listening-that
in misfortune, even death,
and in it's defeat, stirs
the soul to be strong? He
sees deep and is glad, who
accededs to mortality
and in his imprisonment rises
upon himself as
the sea in a chasm, struggling to be
free and unable to be,
in its surrendering
finds its continuing.
So he who strongly feels,
behaves. The very bird,
grown taller as he sings, steels
his form straight up. Though he is captive,
his mighty singing
says, satisfaction is a lowly
thing, how pure a thing is joy.
This is mortality,
this is eternity.