Post-Party Post

This is red-eye (or maybe not... hmmm):

We only live when we drink poison

Many of the people there had never even heard of Phillyist. I was nice enough not to mention the free drinks.

Spent most of the party chatting with a Mennonite from Toronto about Spinoza, Capitalism and Schizophrenia,
virtual reality (specifically, Robert Coover's work in Brown's virtual reality Cave), whether it matters that analytical philosophy is self-undermining, whether if there were an exact
replica of the earth with the sole exception that water has a different chemical make-up yet still looks tastes and macroscopically
acts just like water we would then call it water, qualia, and our posthuman future. The light shining out of the anus....

No one had a lighter. I think I shouted at the director of the Kelly Writers House "You're holding back our cyborg future!"

My shirt tore when I flexed. Really annoying.

Slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills;
It is not the effort nor the failure tires.
The waste remains, the waste remains and kills.

It is not your system or clear sight that mills
Down small to the consequence a life requires;
Slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.

They bled an old dog dry yet the exchange rills
Of young dog blood gave but a month's desires.
The waste remains, the waste remains and kills.

It is the Chinese tombs and the slag hills
Usurp the soil, and not the soil retires.
Slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.

Not to have fire is to be a skin that shrills.
The complete fire is death. From partial fires
The waste remains, the waste remains and kills.

It is the poems you have lost, the ills
From missing dates, at which the heart expires.
Slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills.
The waste remains, the waste remains and kills.

Rather, this is redeye.

(are img tags supposed to work in these comments? are you afraid of pornographic spamages? or is it just malfunctioning?... hmmm)