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Ŕ Bout de Souffle
Out of Breath
Final Draft
Out of the deeps rise the days, climb dawns and peak noons
Over dry fields dragging or drenched seabeds,
Over boughs bearing fertile buds and flowers;
Out comes the star-doggèd sun, a scent of the moon
Over fish, gulls flocking and flying seabound,
Over shoreside sheep and shepherds alike.
On the rest, rain falls ruin for the evening;
Daylong drifting drowns in the nighttime,
Sinks to the seabed, stifled and constant;
No shifting to shore but towards shallows of death.
When all is authored, what aches to be writ
But the death of the deity who drafted it?

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Easy Listening
Finally, I recorded a decent version of my "Easy Listening" song from the "Car" sketch a few entries down.

"Easy Listening"

Thank you, Casio, for providing much of the background music.

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Oh, Mike
A bit of a dark-comedy song I wrote.
Mike, I need to tell you
That I don't know what compelled you
   Dm                          Bb
To go and get a girl behind my back
Dm        C               Bb
Was I not stunning in the sack?
Bbm                             F	Dm
Wherever you got her, bring her back
Bb                          F
I can't stand this lifeless hack

Well, sure, she's very pretty
And is kind of witty
        Dm                          Bb
But she just isn't a substitute for me
Dm           C          Bb
I think that Leon would agree
Bbm                      F	Dm
She just ain't my cup of tea
Bb                              F
Ooh, she's like a bitter cup of tea

She may have charm
But it takes more to run a farm
     Dm                        Bb
What ever happened to our soya beans?
Dm               C             Bb
How could you forget about our dreams
   Bbm                          F	Dm
To manufacture lactose-free ice creams?
Bb                      F
Ooh, you did forget, it seems

You think that she's your honey
But she's in it for the money
  Dm                                  Bb
I bet she made you change your living will
Dm   C           Bb
Do I get your TV still?
Bbm                         F	Dm
Oh, she wants your blood to spill
Bb     C              Dm
She is coming for the kill

     D7sus4    Dm
Then after she kills you
  Bb               Dm
I bet she goes and grills you
       Gm              Bb           A7
She'll pickle all your fingers in a brine
      Dm      C7        Bb7              Gm7   
Whoa, on your flesh for many days she'll dine
    F                                    A7
And with your meat she'll drink a bloody wine
Bb                                  C	C7
Perhaps this last verse crossed the line

I know that I'm a guy
But I've still got a bit of thigh
         Dm                                 Bb
And I'll wear a dress if that's what you prefer
      Dm             C                  Bb
We'll be the best of friends there ever were
Bb      C   C/Bb      Am  C    Dm
I  need you more than you need her
   Bb               C                  F
Oh Mike, I need you more than you need her

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Relative Immortality
While considering my own mortality, I realized that there may still be a way to live forever. Although our bodies, or movement, will eventually die, our words, art, and ideas, or perhaps what I can call our logos, can live beyond us. Plato died in 347 B.C., but his ideas and writings still carry his name and bring him life over 23 centuries later. Thus I feel that we live two lives: the life of our physical movement, and the life of our logos. Based on the ferocity of the symbiosis between these two parts of our greater whole, our logos may live longer than our physical movement, granting us a longer life. Plato may never die so long as humans survive.

In modern times, however, it seems less likely that our personal logos will maintain life past our physical deaths, due to myriad factors. There are billions of people alive today in the global consciousness, making it very hard to stick out. Fame is now rarely rewarded for truly magnificent thought and action, but instead is allotted via more accidental and superficial means. Immortality of personal logos is something reserved for and dealt out by those already famous, or those with money. Material wealth seems to determine whose words get to survive and whose do not; things may have operated this way for centuries, perhaps even in Plato's time to some extent. What a silly concept money is! Though I can talk about that another time.

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Short Sketch
   The Car


   So these three guys sit with great boredom on their mugs.
   Each of their faces is shown repeatedly in order, shots
   becoming shorter and shorter as their expressions grow more
   disgusted with the dullness and mediocrity of the day. Then

                       GUY 1
             I'm bored!

                       GUY 2
             I was having fun until you
                 (sneers away)


                       GUY 3
             Hey, let's go driving!

                 (all fall off of their


   The three roll out of the garage together, get up after a few
   feet, and run off camera towards the car. GUY 3 starts using
   a coat hanger on one of the doors.

                       GUY 1
             Wait, I have the keys for this one!

   ALL rush inside of the car. 


   The two in front seats tug hastily at the seat belts, which
   lock in place. After a few seconds, they pause, and then
   calmly buckle themselves. Driving begins, and they pull up to
   a faded stop sign.

                       GUY 2
             Why is that stop sign so faded?

                       GUY 1
                 (immediately upset)
             I'm sorry, the stop signs around
             here might not be as red as they
             are where you come from. Sure, they
             might not particularly say "stop."
             And yes, technically, not all of
             them have eight sides.

                       GUY 3
             Hey guys, let's put on the radio!
                 (all nod with smiles)

                       GUY 2
             But what station are we going to
             listen to?
                 (all scrunch faces and
                 bite lips)

   Cue music, "Easy Listening".

                       GUY 1
             When I'm driving in the car
             Bumpy roads make me queasy
             This bumpy beat is much too hard
             Let me change it to something easy

                       GUY 2
             Take it easy, baby
             Don't you drive too fast
             Some easy rollin', maybe,
             Can make this moment last

                       GUYS 1 & 2
             Easy listening!

                       GUY 3
             It's so easy to do!
             It's easy listening...

             To you!

                       GUY 3
             Breakin' up ain't easy, no
             It's the hardest thing to do
                 (sends text, "I'm dumping
             I will keep you in my phonebook,
             Since no one else is as easy as you

                       GUY 2
             Take it easy, baby
             Don't you drive too fast
             I think that this verse may be
             Easier than the last

                       GUYS 1 & 2
             Easy listening!

                       GUY 3
             It's so easy to do!
             It's easy listening...

             To you!

   Music ends.

                       GUY 1
             I'm sick of driving.
                 (jumps out)

   The car crashes off screen with screams of terror, and a
   hubcap comes rolling in.

                       THE END

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Child of Favor
Fame is born on Favor's stage
And cries to those obscure:
"Of me you tire as you age—
Forget as you mature."

Ill-defined, amorphous speak
Is matched with moan and sigh;
Then all declare "We're each unique!"
But one alone: "Not I—
O fear of God—not I!"

Indignant now, the crowd disband,
Walk each a different way,
Yet all will lie beneath the land
Upon their dying day.

We now return to Favor's Fame,
Who since was left alone
And, lacking Favor, did proclaim
"I fear I am unknown—
O fear of God—unknown!"

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