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Recent News... Just for Pope Gregory... |
2004-11-22 - 10:45 p.m. Just cut that sonofabitch right here I have three options on the desk in front of me. I can continue fighting my way through checking a Lyapunov proof (lordamIrustyatMath); or mark up the operational timeline, or read poetry about pigs. Hang on. I�ve got to chase the cat out of the closet where he considering doing things to the scuba fins. Yes, poetry about pigs. The Porcine Canticles, poems by David Lee, poet laureate of Utah. Yeah, Utah. Oh, c�mon. It makes sense their poet laureate�s material cover farm animals. My favorite is one about barbed wire (you just cut that sombitch right here), which probably means nothing to anyone who hasn�t spent a day stringing fence, spitting, cursing and struggling to find the end of the roll. Some of the great conversations of my life have occurred over wire stretchers and cries of watch out as the barbed strands whipped free. Why is it men speak of things, simple and true, absurd and wise when their hands are occupied with hard labor? I suppose that�s why Buddhists rake stone so much. But, about that fence. To be honest, I�d rather pull barbed wire than woven wire any day of the week. Then there�s electric fence, which is simple enough to put up, but a determined bull will ignore it completely, stubborn, thick-skinned hormonal creatures. Split rail doesn�t do much; it�s just piles of wood that you hope the cattle won�t wise up to. Or something people pile decorative at the end of driveway. Board-on-board fence is unquestionably the best. It�s certainly the prettiest, and cats favor it, cause they can walk along the top � but it�s expensive and time-consuming to put up. There�s a sharp bend in the road from school to my mother�s house, and the board fence there is a patchwork of colors. As cars inevitably crash through the fence at least half a dozen times a year, the owners put in a new section; the variations in weathering of the pressure treated lumber tells the world how long each board has stood. I suppose you should admire perseverance to keep patching that board-on-board fence for twenty odd years. Why am I talking about fence? Right, poetry. Truly, I�m just babbling because I don�t have the brain left to dice the consequences of inequalities and finish this proof. I think I�ll farm it out. (Farm? Wire? Get it? Ah, crap. It t�ain�t a joke if I have to explain it.) I�ve waste more damn time on wire today � � � 
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