[5119] in Central_America
New quotes for Mon Oct 11
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Central America)
Mon Oct 11 05:23:27 1993
Date: Mon, 11 Oct 93 05:22:35 -0400
From: Central America <root@charon.MIT.EDU>
To: ca-mtg@charon.MIT.EDU
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awm (Adam W Meyerson):
{from system: This user's .plan file is not world-readable}
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ckclark (Calvin Clark):
DAWN: WHAT I MIGHT HAVE DREAMED
It always has to begin
With sky, with whatever light
There is, a skirl of clouds:
Morning is there
And I have to care about it.
It is a letter that someone sends
To a lover who never answers.
Out the window, past
The field I live at the edge of,
A farmer's wife
Is crying in her sleep.
The bedroom lightens,
Her husband wakes, sees
The tears again.
They pool in her closed eyes.
What can he do? It is the dream
She has had since childhood,
The one she will never
Speak of except to say
No, you were not in it.
It was not you.
He turns away, knows
She will not wake until it ends.
Everything in this light
Is far away, the cattle
In the field, the farmhouse on the hill,
But the light is very clear.
I see the door
Of the farmhouse darken,
See the small shape
Of the farmer come out.
He walks toward the barn
But stops in the open, stands
Still, then raises both arms
Toward the sky, where
In the illusion of great distances,
Two small planes, sunbursts,
Approach, collide.
-T. R. Hummer
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dayying (Delroy A Y Ying):
{from system: This user's .plan file is not world-readable}
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dhunj (Dhananjay Rammohan Ragade):
Currently a course 6A senior...hoping to get a Masters next year.
Weight lift like crazy....maybe get a lot of running in.
Sleep, eat, watch tv, maybe do a little work...you know, the usual stuff.
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jcli (Jasen C Li):
{from system: This user's .plan file is not world-readable}
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kjlin (What life?):
To walk around aimlessly until I reach my destination
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marcoman (Marco A. Morales):
Here are my addresses:
704 Campus Dr. 8626 South Exchange Ave.
Stanford, CA 94305 Chicago, IL 60617-3117
(415)-497-5542 (312)-734-1867
marcoman@leland.stanford.edu
Marco Morales
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rjbarbal (Richard J. Barbalace):
For an incomplete glimpse of my schedule, take a look at
~/PostScript/scheduler.ps or my .tc file (using xcal from
the calendar locker).
I'm currently said to be living at:
26 Fairmont Avenue
Cambridge, MA 02139
(617) 497-2189 - Sigh, no one ever calls me....
Ok, a few of you readers might realize that this is all a front: I've
never (or at least in quite some time) stated any plans here, just
this phony address stuff and some seemingly random poetry which you
nerds probably haven't even bothered to read, much less try to
understand. So, I'll state in plain terms the crux of my plan:
To find balance.
There, quite simple, and probably quite dull. Read the damn poetry
for more info, if you care. ;)
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Know then thyself, presume not God to scan,
The proper study of mankind is man.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise, and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the stoic's pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest;
In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast;
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
Whether he thinks too little or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused or disabused;
Created half to rise and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled:
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
- From "An Essay on Man", Alexander Pope
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You know I'd sooner forget but I remember those nights
When life was just a bet on a race between the lights.
You had your head on my shoulder, you had your hand in my hair,
Now you act a little colder like you don't seem to care...
But believe in me baby and I'll take you away
From out of this darkness and into the day,
From these rivers of headlights, these rivers of rain,
From the anger that lives on the streets with these names
'Cause I've run every red light on memory lane.
I've seen desperation explode into flames
and I don't wanna see it again...
- "Telegraph Road", Dire Straits
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When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Then can I drown an eye (unus'd to flow)
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.
- Sonnet XXX, Shakespeare
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therese (Therese):
Three Rings for Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the
Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men
doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One
Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them In
the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
- Tolkien
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tritan (Wilfredo Sanchez Jr.):
Term Address:
East Campus Box 44 MIT East Kampus Alumni Memorial Hauses
3 Ames Street 41st West
Cambridge, MA 02142-1363 Munroe 407
(617) 225-6407
Home: (809) 890-3831
Office:
MIT Technique MIT Integrated Studies Program
c/o H.R.H. Grogo Publications Dept. of Falling Ovular Projectiles
MIT Room W20-451 MIT Room 20C-108
84 Massachussetts Avenue 18 Vassar St.
Cambridge, MA 02139 Cambridge, MA 02139
(617) 253-2980 (617) 253-4084
Page: (617) 774-4665
Organizations:
MIT Computer Graphics Society, Director
MIT Technique Yearbook, Photo Editor
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Silent Elwood never did put more than two sentences together, but all
those lost words burned from his Special 20 blues harp. And Joliet tore that
voice from some hidden darkness, twisting his chubby body, snarling at the
heavens, a born sinner. They used the basement because it was secret and
because the echo gave them a nice dirty sound: Howlin' Wolf and Little
Walter, slapping like a bad dream around the chilly room. And then one night,
Jake brought in a gleaming E string he said came from Elmore James' guitar.
He held it tight and as it glowed in the bulb light, Jake sliced Elwood's
middle finger and then his own. Now the solo boys with soul in their blood
were brothers. Jake and Elwood Blues...the Blues Brothers.
-Miami Mitch Glazer
--- End of Central America ---
