i might just as well have ordered a tree not to sway in the wind

today was wet but uncommonly pleasant, a rare sort of a day but a welcome one . hm. so it's precisely this kind of mood that makes me laugh at my sorrowful ones. how ridiculous i am! (i was doing this last night, wasn't it?) that this (good! good!) life is enough to throw me down! ridiculous, jessica, but irreparable as well? perhaps i prefer it that way. it's difficult to distinguish between constructions of consolation and reality.
walking in to willard-straight before lunch there's a crowd on ho plaza. a group of students trying to "revive the high" [five]. before heading back home i stop by the library and pick up black prince from the library. the last lines:
art is not cosy and it is not mocked. art tells the only truth that ultimately matters. it is the light by which human things can be mended. and after art there is, let me assure you all, nothing.

and because i am for art. some piombino:
naming never knew. there is nothing anybody ever really experienced that needed one.
when once humankind's greatest craving was to be soothed now it is to be understood.
still, if it doesn't feel holy in your hands, what is it?

a coast to the center or a coast to the heart?
oh, the world is so large. why did plato banish poets from his utopia, again?