I’m Back
I’ve somehow regained control of this account. I’m going to repost some poems I previously published on another Tumblr. Beyond that, I don’t know what I will do here. Does anyone still use this website?

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@thewisezack
I’m Back
I’ve somehow regained control of this account. I’m going to repost some poems I previously published on another Tumblr. Beyond that, I don’t know what I will do here. Does anyone still use this website?
Unrest is the mark of existence.
Arthur Schopenhauer, Studies in Pessimism
A barrage balloon struck by lightning. From Roof Over Britain - The Official Story of A.A. Defences, 1939-1942. Published in 1945 by the War Office.
My divine fire's dying. I get depressed, the people I like never like me; besides it's rotten when you think you've got a touch of genius and you don't know how things are going to turn out.
Evelyn Waugh, as quoted in Evelyn Waugh: A Biography by Selina Hastings
I thought about rearranging my books to fit it, but I think I like having Evelyn Waugh judging me while I sleep.
We are told, that in the sack of Athens the Goths had collected all the libraries, and were on the point of setting fire to this funeral pile of Grecian learning, had not one of their chiefs, of more refined policy than his brethren, dissuaded them from the design; by the profound observation, that as long as the Greeks were addicted to the study of books, they would never apply themselves to the exercise of arms.
Edward Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
What are the pros and cons of a woman taking the initiative with a potential intimate male companion? Asking for a friend.👆👉 👆👉
Well, as always you run the risk of being rejected. Though you might just get the man you want. The last woman I dated mysteriously fled to Pakistan, so what do I know?
What are the chances of most of your shitty anons just being really shy and crushing on you? It seems highly likely.
I doubt it. I’m a shy person myself but I don’t message people I like and anonymously tell them to kill themselves.
Audrey Hepburn, on individual liberty. Funny Face, 1957
A wood-engraving by John O’Connor. I’m not sure what the piece is called or when exactly it is from.
Woes of the World - R.I.P. Roger Moore
Sir Roger Moore died today at the age of 89, after what his family described as a “short but brave battle with cancer.” Like most people, I just assumed that everyone who played James Bond is immortal, so this death is particularly damaging to the psyche. Moore is one of my favourite actors. Not just for his contributions to the Bond universe, for which he should receive our eternal gratitude, but for his work in Wild Geese, Sea Wolves, and Escape From Athena, to name a few. Not to mention his long-running role as Simon Templar on television show "The Saint."
News of his death broke like a thunderclap, leaving me absolutely shattered in a way I haven't felt since Christopher Hitchens died in late 2011. Like any normal child, I was raised with the Bond films, from Connery on through to Craig. Some of my fondest memories are watching Moore’s outings with my grandfather.
As it happens, a friend and I are slowly going through all the Bond films. Most recently we watched Moonraker, which despite being totally outrageous is something of a masterpiece. Next up is For Your Eyes Only, which I expect will be much more emotional than it otherwise would have been.
With the news of Moore’s passing still fresh, I got into a street fight with a hipster who did not even know who Roger Moore was. They said that given that Moore had 89 years relatively good health for most of his life and had a great career, we should all be pleased that he was able to go on that long. He leaves behind a wonderful legacy and all that. Besides, he hasn't acted in a film since 2011.
All of this may be true but it is beside the point. There are just some people who, just by continuing to live, make the world a better place, even if they are completely idle. Roger Moore was one of those people. The world is a much bleaker place without him.
R.I.P., 007.
Recent Dreams
I see you in the raindrops scrawling messages on my window asking how I'm doing I command the wind to clear them away Those simple pleasantries are questions I can't own up to I don't know if it's because I think you don't really care or my answer is too damaging
My dreams play tricks on me They say you'll lead me around distant shores through the brushes and the hedgerows They say you'll hold the door open on the train They say you'll appear out of the mist and take my hand in dance They say that life’s a long hallway and you’re behind one of the doors They say you'll return
I can never doubt my dreams completely They always manifest somehow Yet when I try indulge these dreams of you I know I'm betraying myself My dreams lose their authority They become propaganda The best drug I've ever taken I'm not dreaming authentically anymore
My memory is long My interests strange My teeth are crooked My posture stooped I should be a character in a Lovecraftian tale tucked away in a library stumbling upon horrors too frightful to describe instead I found you ever present and wise
Books That Cause Pain Revisited
Last year I wrote about the notion of books being a source of pain. Not in the sense of being bopped over the head by one or suffering a paper cut, but just their mere presence in our lives bring us some kind of distress. At the time, I rejected this notion, describing it as “baffling.” Overall, I still stand by this view. Yet as I once more consider the problem of space in library, I’ve been forced to revaluate my views, if only slightly.
The problem facing science is that a very substantial percentage of the population has had personal experiences, often at a significant emotional level, that run counter to the beliefs of science in general.
John B. Alexander, on the challenge that UFOs and other anomalous phenomena pose to science
Sleepless Nights
Last night, I could not sleep. Maybe it was the wind (high wind without rain or snow to accompany it makes me very agitated) or maybe there was too much on my mind. Like anyone else, my thoughts invariably shifted to the Japanese writer Osaragi Jirō, particularly his essay "Sleepless Nights."
I came across Jirō via Patrick Krup's blog Anecdotal Evidence and had my wonderful university library send me a PDF of the two articles referenced. In "Sleepless Nights," Jirō describes the "bad days" where his reluctant nocturnal thoughts travel down a decidedly negative path:
“…all that comes to mind is my mistakes - things I’ve done that I wish I hadn’t - and I end up berating myself and feeling assailed by a keen sense that I must look like a fool, that I am lazy and a failure as a human being. All I can see is my faults. That kind of sleepless night is hard to endure. Having lived more than fifty years, I have made many blunders and been careless many times. Am I alone in this?"
Jirō certainly is not. At night we let our guard down. This is a double edge sword. In one sense our mind becomes much more curious. Suddenly everything is interesting. Random bits of trivia become of immediate interest. "When did so and so die?" "How many tanks does the Israeli army have?" At its peak, novels and poems are born out of this restlessness.
The other side is what Jirō describes. Our new found freedom of thought digs inward, recalling a wide array of forgotten terrors, pounding us with evidence like a good prosecutor making their closing argument, that we are rotten to the core. Even though we cannot sleep and the wind has us agitated we are passive. No sustained attempt is made to mount a defence. We just lie there until sleep says "Enough!" and grants us a reprieve.
Jarō says he can make his sleepless nights "more pleasant" by living "without cause for regret while the sun shines." The trouble, of course, is that we seldom know what we will regret until it is too late.
You can read bits and bites of Jarō’s essay (or “zuihitsu” as they are called in Japan) here.
you should commit suicide and here's why: you will die alone and live your life alone. i bet you spent christmas alone and will spend new years alone too.you will spend 2017 alone and 2018 alone and so on. end it all and avoid the pain of loneliness! I wish you all the best with it.
Oh but how can I be alone when I have you urging me to off myself every fortnight?
A Christmas Dream
sometimes I dream of the snow falling on my face as I lie in desolate field of grey looking up at the white lemon sky it's all hazy and there's crashing waves in my ears the sun is blasting through the cracks in the clouds leaving what's on the periphery unseen everything is warm, soft, relaxed as I tilt my head, I see trees lining the clearing where I lay I see you emerge from the foliage gun in hand, ready to put me away "Merry Christmas, baby" is all you say