The world conspires

To shape these past two days
Into a single hymn
To mediocrity.

Frustrated - offended - disgusted - greatness passed o'er in favor of plodding mundanity - giddyness for politics - taste for mindless groundling. Self-destructive oreos are our friends as rose-colored oblivion imbibed seems worse than a lingering chocolate death.

We shall see, we shall learn, as of tomorrow. (And we remember why we have been so long from the poor player who struts and frets his hour across the stage, and then is heard no more.... It's a wonder they don't all go mad. [Enough, it hath driven me mad! Hamlet for the ages.])

Mood: Regarde en haute
Music: Opera Babes, graciously lent me by my Father, who celebrated a bonne anniversaire, Vendredi.
Thought: Lord, I need Your Heart.