J.A. speaks

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Dylan Thomas

Key items first: I travel to Montreal today.

And I keep forgetting to mention, I miss my cats (thanks for the note, zteph :) I noticed missing them the very first night as I was driving toward the hotel and found myself focusing on the obvious fact that they weren't going to be there...

( yesterday: bad computer day )
( OK day otherwise )

My brain is bubbling with things I want to write about, but I feel that I'm running mildly late this AM, so we'll see how far I get.

( logistics )
( being here )