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July 09, 2006


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Socrates gone mad.

Girls gone wild.


Crates. And barrel.


It's interesting. For the first time maybe ever in the last four days I've come to resemble that dog. Ie, I stink.

Who knocks on my door. A good friend I haven't seen for ten years and mostly given up on. He says he wants to talk to me. For hours.

Mad laughter.

I've seen love go by my door
It's never been this close before
Never been so easy or so slow.
Been shooting in the dark too long
When somethin's not right it's wrong
Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go.

It was hilarious. I'm sitting on the stoop talking to a neighbor, another neighbor comes up with her happy-ass poodle mix fresh from a really cute haircut etc and I put my hand out to the pup and he sniffs and stops dead in his tracks.

Mad laughter.

Triangulate me? Could you move a little to the left?

Mad laughter.

mmmmm, man-stink (tee-hee!)

I know, I know:

One to bring the giraffe, and the other to fill the bathtub with brightly colored machine tools.

"Diogenes once saw the citizens of Corinth busy with enormous war preparations and, in order not to be the only indolent soul in the city, he rolled his peaceful barrel up and down the streets."

I love this fucking place.

(pregnant pause)

Mad laughter.

Pranks and jests, not writings, were his stock in trade. Cautioned for masturbating in the city square he said, "I only wish I could assuage my emtpy belly as readily."

Mad stroking.

Give us more halibut.

Before you tipped us off to the reference to "writings", I was suspicious of at least the part you quoted, and started to think about how a mythology forms around an historical person. Usually the memory is kept alive by small bands of followers, and the story enhancement is usually in the positive direction. Either way what we get many centuries later is a mix of history and mythology, and the story is more important than the facts.

Diogenes, unlike Socrates, did not have his Plato to reconstruct his dialogues. As far as I know there is no "authorized biography." His school were called "Cynics," or dog-philosophers, but even that philosophy has a bad name. What he was cynical about was vice and persiflage.

Dear Ilona

How 'bout I ride on your back a while?

Your pal,

Dog The Philosopher



We love you too, kayla, but we have to take your Daddy in anyway. It is all about the bounty.

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