For the love of Diogenes, Plato and Aquinas, why can’t I get my damn diploma into the frame? Maybe it’s because I bought it (well two of it’s) at the thrift store, so I suppose it serves me right. Before the night is through, and I’m close, real close, either I’ll have crammed it into the mounting or shredded it to smithereens. Just goes to show what a Master’s degree in philosophy is worth, or the paper it’s printed on. Maybe I should have taken shop, plastics and metals, or wood-turning on a spinning-dervish, milk and oil dripping like after-sex from the bore-wheel. Well I have three and a half years to figure this out, or when my PhD thesis is written and defended, whichever comes first; but I’m telling you, the shop idea is getting pretty enticing, bore-wheel and all, yes indeed.
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About Me
- Stephen Rowntree
- "Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz
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