scratch that. it's a four day weekend, apparently.
god freaking bless the holidays. whether it's turkey on the table or sheep or a cow or just a loaf of bread--the holidays'll get in the mood. i honestly just love doing nothing in the holidays. a cup of coffee, a dylan song and a book....hallejuah.
anyways. i have tons to talk about--about "rain's little hands" and frost poems and about obligations and things you're proud of and thinngs you curse, about tiresome journeys and an unconscious attempts of swimming with the current, and sleep deprivation and why you would still be so moved to realize what an amazing song that song was that you have listened a million times, and family and sacrifise and religion and latin and friends and november and more...
but for now i'll just tell you this--
"Come, O comrade solitary
Of this cheerless youth of mine,
Take a cup, and let us bury
All our many woes in wine!"
Alexander Pushkin
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