|Dexter's an asshole|
Saw an old man catch a stingray yesterday. By now you've seen the pic. It was cool. If not, here you go...
|I think this is George and Gracie's kid, Ronnie.|
When I was in high school I failed English five out of eight semesters and got a D twice. The only time I was ever interested was when we covered the romantic poets. The only A I ever got in HS English was for an essay I wrote on a Shelley sonnet.
And by the way, this was way before Dead Poet's Society came out.
Shelley was my favorite, but I wanted to be Byron when I grew up. However, there was something about Keats that just hit a part of me I didn't know existed. I felt less alone because I realized I wasn't the only one who looked up into the sky and saw entire movies in the sky. I felt less nerdy for loving books, I felt less weird for needing the ocean to feel centered. I felt less alone and to a confused, angry kid, that means everything.
When I have Fears That I May Cease to BeWhen I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
So, from adolescent Rudy, happy fucking birthday John Keats. You don't look a day over 218.
Coffee beach time.