Well, I'm sitting here on a back porch in Florida, watching a carefully crafted fire and listening to Nancy practice her violin. Pretty soon we'll turn on the old crow medicine show and talk about something profound, like the vastness of the universe or the possiblity of time travel. There's nothing like hearing a fourteen year old's take on determinism. I'd sit here for hours if it meant I never had to step foot into an introduction to philosophy class. I swear they talk just to hear their own voices.
I haven't been able to break the smile that's been plastered across my face since sometime yesterday afternoon. Yes, the show was awesome. I am not sure what else can be said. I want to write some brilliant discourse on the words that filled the room, but I suppose all I can say is that when I hear it I feel comfortable. Like a blanket that keeps your whole body warm in the winter or a pair of mittens that you find when you're fingers are about to freeze.
Instead of studying the other night Tom and I watched The Thin Red Line. And I believe that the closing paragraph of my cultural anthropology final echoes the tone of the monologues that dot that movie. Mr. J. Hellweg, thank you for this year. Thank you for speaking julu. Thank you for bringing a gun to class. Thank you for making the Another Brick in the Wall joke. Thank you for looking like a slightly paler, sweaty, conan o'brien with john lennon glasses. You have seduced us all.
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What is this great evil? How did it steal into the world? From what seed, what root did it spring? Who's doing this? Who's killing us? Robbing us of light and life. Mocking us with the sight of what we might have known.
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