bleahhh;
the last hurrah
& Monday, December 5
i never thought this day will come.
so i'm meeting yall in like 2 hours.
what's gonna happen.
what's gonna be the first thing i say when i see you and you and you.
who's going anyway?
what will we talk about during dinner?
what what what.
i'm afraid, almost ashamed of this ridiculous fear that wouldnt go.
When Earth's last picture is painted
And the tubes are twisted and dry
When the oldest colours have faded
And the youngest critic has died
We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it
Lie down for an aeon or two
Till the Master of all good workmen
Shall put us to work anew
And those that were good shall be happy
They'll sit in a golden chair
They'll splash at a ten league canvas
With brushes of comet's hair
They'll find real saints to draw from
Magdelene, Peter and Paul
They'll work for an age at a sitting
And never be tired at all
And only the Master shall praise us
And only the Master shall blame
And no one will work for the money
No one will work for the fame
But each for the joy of the working
And each, in his separate star
Will draw the thing as he sees it
For the God of things as they are.
-Rudyard Kipling
what if.
goodbye
3:44 PM