Lunatic, lover, poet

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me—nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

Hamlet, Act 2, scene 2, 303–312.

“The lunatic, the lover, and the poet are of imagination all compact.”

A Midsummer Night's Dream, V.i.7.

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A quiet weekend here. There was no band rehearsal this weekend, as both Julian and Mick are away. No worries.

Spoke to Matt on Saturday arvo on the phone. He was still drunk from the night before. About half of his conversation was coherent.

Obviously, I haven't spent any face-to-face time with him lately, while he's... erm... working thru some... erm... 'personal issues'... he wants to work things thru on his own, it seems.

Spoke with the boys' mum on the phone this morning. I actually told her the story of my recent negative health issues for the first time. Obviously, she was shocked and upset. That's why I haven't told her (or my brother) before now, as I haven't wanted to upset anyone.

But it's all good.

And Thoon fishie is going outrageously well. 24 hours later, in his new aquatic world, he's back to normal. But I think he's missing human companionship... everytime I walk into the loungeroom, he's ready to talk! rofl.

Peas be with ewe

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