howling typhoid talk to the moon because it feels so good inside, a release, stress fading out through the modulations of sound waves 000613 ... god wolfpack 010219 ... robbie one~ my dog, when the siren, voluntary fire two# the wind in the rigging, thats later three* that'd be the white screeching noise of negative space that drives me 010224 ... florescent firefly My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun. My hunger for her explains everything I've done. To howl at the moon the whole night through, and they really don't care if I do. I'd go out of my mind but for you. Sister Moon.... -Sting 010224 ... steve dogs attack cats like a woman attacks her man! 010826 ... god My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound. I grant I never saw a goddess go: My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. -- William Shakespeare 1564-1616 011019 what's it to you? who go blather from