Ick. I hate a class like today�s. I attempted to explain the Imagist Movement. Stupid notion. This ain�t a modern poetry class, I must remember that. I feel silly. I thought it would help them to understand Prufrock. Which they don�t, which it didn�t. They are confused and irritated by Prufrock. Come to think of it, me too, today. �Do I dare disturb the universe?� Whatever dude. Get a fucking spine. Prufrock is a whiny baby.

�I grow old�I grow old��

Sigh.

I have been near completely immobile for about a week now. Nothing doing, nothing knowing, nothing nothing nothing. I�m thinking of this song today, hoping this song is still true, that the last lines will someday happen, that I will move a little more permanently from this near total isolation and funkiness which I�ve been living in for so long. Damn. It�s by Joni Mitchell. It�s called �The Last Time I Saw Richard.�

The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in '68
And he told me all romantics meet the same fate someday
Cynical and drunk and boring someone in some dark cafe
You laugh he said you think you're immune
Go look at your eyes they're full of moon
You like roses and kisses and pretty men to tell you
All those pretty lies pretty lies
When you gonna realise they're only pretty lies
Only pretty lies just pretty lies

He put a quarter in the Wurlitzer and he pushed
Three buttons and the thing began to whirr
And a bar maid came by in fishnet stockings and a bow tie
And she said "Drink up now it's gettin' on time to close"
"Richard, you haven't really changed" I said
It's just that now you're romanticizing some pain that's in your head
You got tombs in your eyes but the songs you punched are dreaming
Listen, they sing of love so sweet, love so sweet
When you gonna get yourself back on your feet?
Oh and love can be so sweet Love so sweet

Richard got married to a figure skater
And he bought her a dishwasher and a coffee percoator
And he drinks at home now most nights with the TV on
And all the house lights left up bright
I'm gonna blow this damn candle out
I don't want nobody comin' over to my table
I got nothing to talk to anybody about
All good dreamers pass this way some day
Hidin' behind bottles in dark cafes dark cafes
Only a dark cocoon before I get my gorgeous wings and fly away
Only a phase these dark cafe days