She looked over his shoulder
For vines and olive trees,
Marble well-governed cities
And ships upon untamed seas,
But there on the shining metal
His hands had put instead
An artificial wilderness
And a sky like lead.

A plain without a feature, bare and brown,
No blade of grass, no sign of neighborhood,
Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down,
Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood
An unintelligible multitude,
A million eyes, a million boots in line,
Without expression, waiting for a sign.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The coolest thing yet

Ok, so the suburban wastelands are turning into, um, wastelands. We have a president who I would kill to just sit and bullshit with (ok, I'm a dork). And in the not so distant future you will be able to surf through the motherfucking air over the French Alps from your fucking living room.

So for all I've been talking about this "quarter-life crisis," I need to suck it up. Life is fucking cool (especially #3).
Posted by at
Labels: , ,

1 comment:

Lane said...

I too have a man crush on Obama.

February 18, 2009 at 4:27 PM

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)