I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition.
No one ever did.
Why?
Because you can’t control another ones choice. If you could it would only be called once. And after a length of between 13++ “growing up” years [h][e||o]rm]Once (sometimes translated as ‘romance’ but that’s a whole ‘nother story for a completely different day ;-)] would one [lonely] day yearn for the moment that once became [tw||cho]ice.
Of course as soon as [her m]Once comes twice their is no more once. Which leaves at least twice. And Once once begins to wonder about when it will all end that’s where the choices Once made become clear:
If there had been only one once to begin with there could never have been a twice. Of course if there was no begin could their could be no end?
And if there’s no begin nor end, does that mean there is no last nor first?
No end? No first?
No beginning? No last?
Not sure. But I’m guessing by the time I find the opportunity to finally ask the question to a group of folks who actually know the answer there will be a handful of still really pissed off wrestling romans nearby, muttering:
“Who the hell was that and why can’t I feel anything in my legs?
“Wait! I don’t have any legs! Or arms either!” while continuing to insist,
“it’s just a flesh wound!” never really getting the whole point that without Flesh their could be no wound nor that with a Spirit comes no end.
Or wait. Is it the other way around?
I can never get those two right!
Or was it wrong to begin with?
Yeah, probably. ;-)
I leave you with the spoken words (written words to follow) to Snog’s “The Last Days of Rome” to ponder upon these very ideas.
Nite’ all! :-)
—/M:D
here comes the good juice
gotta cut the hate loose
gotta tell you how i feel
i know you like it real
one day the sun will grow
and swallow up your home
consume all you own
with pleasure i will groan
if i cut then i bleed
all day long
just to please you
the last days of rome
the palaces
the towers
will rot inside of hours
bereft of their powers
the seeds they have sown
the suburbs
and the city
the foul air makes me giddy
so seldom is it witty
the last days of rome
if i cut then i bleed
all day long
just to please you
the last days of rome
and i chewed the chewing gum of hate
i chewed it long, i chewed it late
and i chewed that chewing gum of hate
munch munch, grate grate
one day the sun will grow
and swallow up your home
consume all you own
with pleasure i will groan
the palaces
the towers
will rot inside of hours
bereft of their powers
the seeds they have sown
the suburbs
and the city
the foul air makes me giddy
so seldom is it witty
the last days of rome
if i cut then i bleed
all day long
just to please you
the last days of rome
