Monday, July 18, 2005

Smoke your pipe, you brown-skinned champion.

I once wrote a poem called Cigar Store Indian. Ostensibly, it was about stoicism. People ran away from it, and it eventually became fire, burning into nothingness and everything.

I once wrote a song called The Unexamined Life. Supposedly, it was about Socrates, though I didn't know it at the time.

I once said "great men need not account for their art." And Nietzsche flopped over in his grave.

Back from the Continent, with my only regret being not trying harder to see Taj Mahal at La Cigale. Currently short on inspiration, but we'll return to normal soon - what with the music reviews and such.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Glad to see you're back. Looking forward to some new reviews!

7/18/2005 4:49 p.m.  

Post a Comment

<< Home