Let us go then, you and I…
I blame Jordan. His AIM profile contained a quote from the incomparable T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” Naturally, it rekindled that love affair with the author’s passionate verses… so I bought myself a cheap collection of his works and spent a chilly afternoon at the Arboretum with the geese, reacquainting myself with the marvelous master.
And I’ve got songs and verses meandering through my mind, certainly causing odd glances from my fellow computer lab lurkers as I get a puzzled look on my face. I’ve an unnerving talent for mixing and matching rhythm and rhyme, melody and verse… producing an unusual amalgam of Lord Nelson and Eliot. Doesn’t help, having Sir Lloyd Webber’s felines singing random phrases in chorus while flicking their ghostly tails.
I pity the poor audience sitting in my head, subject to such a disjointed spectacle. My mental concerts never follow any sane playbill. There’s no telling who’ll have the next encore.