St Augustine and Jean-Jacques Rousseau had their Confessions – finely written works of rare and sublime misdirection, lies, hidden truths, self-aggrandizing hokum, ad-libbing, and scintillating bombast. With such heady historical tradition pushing us from behind, it is now the time, I declare, for SMP to mount up for the same challenge. Thus this “Confessions of SMP” thread. Tread lightly, with moderation, or stomp about with the indiscretion of a jack-booted stormtrooper; or abstain altogether as the spirit leads you. I remind everyone that this is a public forum, and that slimy lurking lawyers can read.
St Augustine and Jean-Jacques Rousseau had their Confessions – finely written works of rare and sublime misdirection, lies, hidden truths, self-aggrandizing hokum, ad-libbing, and scintillating bombast. With such heady historical tradition pushing us from behind, it is now the time, I declare, for SMP to mount up for the same challenge. Thus this “Confessions of SMP” thread. Tread lightly, with moderation, or stomp about with the indiscretion of a jack-booted stormtrooper; or abstain altogether as the spirit leads you. I remind everyone that this is a public forum, and that slimy lurking lawyers can read.
First Confession:
I have never had sex with a female rhino.
Well keep at it, the odds are 50/50 each time, you can't run bad forever.
Surprisingly, such things never come up in conversation. I can make pretty easy connections between my actions and the death of others. Two in particular. One of which involves someone who'd have not liked the assistance and the other who would have really not like the assistance.
Confessions are supposed to be "I used to be" "then I realized better" "now I am" "wish I had known earlier."
I think I have left the park better than I found it. That is sufficient.
Missed by a wide mark on both accounts.
Both books referred to in the OP are basically autobiographical works by two very important writers in the Western Canon, whatever the demerits and wackiness of their respective works. So the theme is, in general, autobiographical sketches that individuals would posts for the edification of all. I have done this, in seriousness or otherwise, in a number of past threads; and so have others. This is now consolidated in one format/thread for the general dissemination of experience, for good, bad, indifferent or ugly, for all. That so many are reticence is not a surprise. Few have the boldness of spirit or the Chutzpah and gall to plaster stories for all to sneer at; or give their fellow travelers on this ball of rock vomit an honest appraisal of 'the self' and their deeds of daring do. Philosophical reflections can take precedent. That I started with a negative sex theme should be a warning to all. But it won't.
I do not expect much. But with a public experimentation on a poker forum full of wise asses and smarty pants (I include myself), I get what I ask for. Mostly.
To your second comment, I will say that you have fallen victim to and leaped into the deep and dark pit of Masque type thinking. One should never leave a park better than one finds it. That you so crucially missed the boat and stumbled on your own tongue shows that you are not reading the right type of books, that you are listening to the wrong type of music, and that you do not own a gun. Your life philosophy is tattered and in a state of complete shambles. I suggest you post some recent life events to purge your system of silliness and get back on the Highway to the Hell.
Both books referred to in the OP are basically autobiographical works by two very important writers in the Western Canon, whatever the demerits and wackiness of their respective works. So the theme is, in general, autobiographical sketches that individuals would posts for the edification of all. I have done this, in seriousness or otherwise, in a number of past threads; and so have others. This is now consolidated in one format/thread for the general dissemination of experience, for good, bad, indifferent or ugly, for all. That so many are reticence is not a surprise. Few have the boldness of spirit or the Chutzpah and gall to plaster stories for all to sneer at; or give their fellow travelers on this ball of rock vomit an honest appraisal of 'the self' and their deeds of daring do. Philosophical reflections can take precedent. That I started with a negative sex theme should be a warning to all. But it won't.
As per usual, when it looks like we disagree, it is just misunderstanding.
I am just trying to live my little and happy life without too much public censure. The correct amount is sufficient, of course.
Any attempts intended to edify would, in fact, lead to more eddies in the stream of life. Fishing is already hard work. Me stomping around muddying the water would only serve to make those bobber-using fools equal to the great fly-fisherman. It would do so by figuratively cutting off the fly-fisherman at the knee to mix metaphors at the maximal level.
Quote:
I do not expect much. But with a public experimentation on poker forum full of wise asses and smarty pants (I include myself), I get what I ask for. Mostly.
To your second comment, I will say that you have fallen victim to and leaped into the deep and dark pit of Masque type thinking. One should never leave a park better than one finds it. That you so crucially missed the boat and stumbled on your own tongue shows that you are not reading the right type of books, that you are listening to the wrong type of music, and that you do not own a gun. Your life philosophy is tattered and in a state of complete shambles. I suggest you post some recent life events to purge your system of silliness and get back on the Highway to the Hell.
My life events can only serve to muddy the waters.
I am watching Rope. It has Jimmy Stewart in it. He just got to the part where he comes back to get his cigarette case. I am pretty sure that Hitchcock was just playing with his speech impediment throughout the entire movie, see. Important movie btw.
I am watching Rope. It has Jimmy Stewart in it. He just got to the part where he comes back to get his cigarette case. I am pretty sure that Hitchcock was just playing with his speech impediment throughout the entire movie, see. Important movie btw.
It is suspiciously uncanny that I also have this movie. I forget if someone gave it to me or if I purchased it out of the $4.99 DVD movie clearance bin at a Hastings Store. Good movie. Hitchcock was a funny man and made a few classics. In Rope, Jimmy is saved in the end by a twist of morality and the random fickle finger of fate.
I also have on DVD and will mention Big Trouble in Little China and The Big Lebowski. Great little tales that don't muddy any waters - just lots of fun. That is what life should be about.
I recently ate a grasshopper out of impulse, thinking it would bestow me with wonderful powers. I also roamed the streets, homelessly, convinced I was the second coming. Confession: I still think I might be the son of God.
I think that at some point we have noted that one of us is superfluous.
"Come On Up To The House"
Well the moon is broken
And the sky is cracked
Come on up to the house
The only things that you can see
Is all that you lack
Come on up to the house
All your cryin don't do no good
Come on up to the house
Come down off the cross
We can use the wood
Come on up to the house
Come on up to the house
Come on up to the house
The world is not my home
I'm just a passin thru
Come on up to the house
There's no light in the tunnel
No irons in the fire
Come on up to the house
And your singin lead soprano
In a junkman's choir
You gotta come on up to the house
Does life seem nasty, brutish and short
Come on up to the house
The seas are stormy
And you can't find no port
Come on up to the house
There's nothin in the world
[Chorus]
There's nothin in the world
that you can do
you gotta come on up to the house
and you been whipped by the forces
that are inside you
come on up to the house
well you're high on top
of your mountain of woe
come on up to the house
well you know you should surrender
but you can't let go
you gotta come on up to the house