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SIBYLLOGY: Life inside the Saussurean Bar.

“‘How can it be?’ she wondered. ‘I suppose I could understand it if men had simply forgotten unicorns or if they had changed so that they hated all unicorns now and tried to kill them when they saw them. But not to see them at all, to look at them and see something else — what do they look like to one another, then? What do trees look like to them, or houses, or real horses, or their own children?’” Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

 sign of disputationTomorrow

If time is relative, then can it be 10 am tomorrow right now? I want the waiting over with.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
[…]*

Though I hope I’ll manage more than a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, tomorrow … or at least the right and convincing amount of sound and fury. Whether or not things signify anything we can argue about … .

(And I don’t even have any olives.)

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* Tomorrow and …? what?
(Yes, that is a rap version of MacBeth. Shh…)

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