Sunday, November 16, 2008

Dogger's Lack of Appeal

Further Scribbles From His Early 1990's Notes

I wish I had more connection to people these days, but it isn't so and it doesn't seem likely to be forthcoming. I'm just here and I'm just me--not more attractive than I used to be, not more tolerant of others, not reaching out any further than what you may see at first brief glance here. If it's a hard existence or a long sentence, it's a self-imposed one and there's little likelihood of talking my way out of it or into any other frame of mind. There will probably be no suddenly growing an appealing puppy-dog tail that I could wag. What about YOUR tail--who will be crowing over that?

I can't wake up,
I can't wake up,
Although I have good intentions and
I often rise before the morning shines,
Or before my submarine alarm clock goes off--
It's dreadful,
And I'm being slowly crowded off the bed.

As noted elsewhere in this blog, Gatsby ended his life in 1994.

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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)