HOUSE, n. A hollow edifice erected for the habitation of man, rat, mouse, beetle, cockroach, fly, mosquito, flea, bacillus and microbe. House of Correction, a place of reward for political and personal service, and for the detention of offenders and appropriations. House of God, a building with a steeple and a mortgage on it. House-dog, a pestilent beast kept on domestic premises to insult persons passing by and appal the hardy visitor. House-maid, a youngerly person of the opposing sex employed to be variously disagreeable and ingeniously unclean in the station in which it has pleased God to place her.
2007 Update: A love more powerful than wanderlust when mortgaged.
2007 Update: A love more powerful than wanderlust when mortgaged.
There are seven loves a boy will know
Along his life's great curve
Each one, like lye, corrodes the soul
And, like alcohol, preserves.
The first of these is love of kind:
Of mother and father and cousin.
It's milk is milk and does remind
To wash after each stranger he does in.
The second love is love of self,
Learned at the onset of speaking,
Enobling even the commonest whelp
And debasing the neighboring king.
The third affection he will know
Is love of competition.
Whether gifted well to run and throw
Or slander and sedition.
The fourth love is known as romance
And lasts until he's jaded.
It once began at High School Dance
But starts now when he's first graded.
The next we find, if life is kind
Is love of property:
A house, a car, a spouse, his mind.
It's adored that comes unmoored and takes his dignity.
He may yet age and then grow fond
Of rectitude and right;
A pious fish in empty pond,
Bubbling righteous spite.
The love to which man comes at last
Is for silence, even death:
Released from tales of his past
And recounting of his debt.
Along his life's great curve
Each one, like lye, corrodes the soul
And, like alcohol, preserves.
The first of these is love of kind:
Of mother and father and cousin.
It's milk is milk and does remind
To wash after each stranger he does in.
The second love is love of self,
Learned at the onset of speaking,
Enobling even the commonest whelp
And debasing the neighboring king.
The third affection he will know
Is love of competition.
Whether gifted well to run and throw
Or slander and sedition.
The fourth love is known as romance
And lasts until he's jaded.
It once began at High School Dance
But starts now when he's first graded.
The next we find, if life is kind
Is love of property:
A house, a car, a spouse, his mind.
It's adored that comes unmoored and takes his dignity.
He may yet age and then grow fond
Of rectitude and right;
A pious fish in empty pond,
Bubbling righteous spite.
The love to which man comes at last
Is for silence, even death:
Released from tales of his past
And recounting of his debt.
-- Omar Kháyyam Boone
34 comments:
Morning...first in the house.
house: a place to mow the lawn.
House: gold plating.
House: where everything is breaking down, leaving trails of water, a last gasp and repair people shaking their heads.
...is not a home? From "Cliches R Us" xoxo
house -- 1) storage shed for the accoutrements of life; 2) a building that owns he who possesses it, or vise versa.
House: an acerbic tv doctor who is just yummy.
HOUSE, n. The ball affixed to the chain that is affixed to the ankle of the one who is stricken with the urge to placate spouse, children, business associates, or bankers.
Hey Walela! When did your person get replaced by a character from Shakespeare?
Omar Kháyyam Boone? HAHAHAHA.
that said, sometimes i worry about what's being housed between those dog ears of yours. ; )
So, in your version of history, Daniel Boone met Omar Kháyyam, and they united in a gay marriage resulting in the name Omar Kháyyam Boone? I'm not sayin' it didn't happen. And anyway, Oscar Wilde said, “The one duty we owe to history is to rewrite it.” So you saw your duty and you done it.
I love: It once began at High School Dance
But starts now when he's first graded. Care to share your score? Hey, you brought it up! (Hey puppy, I count three puns in that for you to play with. Whoops! that makes four.)
House: just another brick in the wall. Anything and everything you own eventually owns you.
Great, Joel. Will you start the air conditioning?
Haha, Mule. Amen.
On a hot tin roof, Elbot.
Aw, sorry, Mo'a. And here you used up your garden hose as art. Any chance the water stains look like Jolas?
What did you pay for your subscription, Mireille?
Quill, you went dark just to make me wrong, didn't you?
Jenna, acerbic is one of my favorite qualities in a fellow fellow.
Amoeba, it's a tangled web we find in flight that first we take up to delight. I don't get the Shakespeare reference at all. Cliff's note me, please.
Neva, that's why floppy ears are crucial.
TLP, I'm glad to contribute.
hi honey, i'm home
piyaqdg: pity the quivering dawg
Jenna and I are on the same track. I thought of Dr. House as well, also, in addition, too.
House is a great show!
My hubby aspires to be as noncaring as Dr. House.
Spiritual advice for the day...
Do not build your HOUSE upon the sand.
Matthew 12:11 is fine and good, but I was referring to Luke 15:4! Hrrumpf!!
Welcome home, Karma.
Nor paint it in the backyard, Jamie Dawn. Now, choose ye this day whom you will serve.
I will check...I see a face in every stain anyway...perhaps all this is for inspiration.
TLP, a friend and I were just discussing that connundrum. It becomes tempting to just cast off these chains, but in the meantime, better send that mortgage check.
House: every story needs a backdrop, and a house is as good as any.
What's up with the spouse as property in the fifth love. And where is love of self in all of this? Ooh, that might be considered beyond this blog's rating.
I thought so, Mo'a.
G, may I direct you to the second love? I don't know much about spouses, or should that be, spice.
I guess I just wanted to make a reference to self love.
On your second point, if you're David Beckham.
"House you doin?" - Joey from Friends.
Ah Jaques ... oops, er, Doug, you maybe didn't scroll far enough down Wikipedia ...
All the world's a stage
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
this is the only poem I have ever read that says 'love' eight times yet tells nothing about it. tricky! :-P
House: A home which belongs to someone without a hat.
And amoeba: If all the world's a stage, and all the men and women are merely players, then who do I fuck for a better part?
You didn't ask me Andrew, but if you could get Rosie O'Donnell pregnant, I bet Hollywood would beat a path to your door. Just sayin', not suggesting you do it.
G: "self-love"? uh... did i miss something?? ; )
House: a safe place to conch out. (assuming you're a you're a giant snail)
Our house
Is a very very very fine house
With two cats in the yard
Life used to be so hard
Now everything is easy 'cause of you
I have a tiny mortar house out back for the little people...
But there is one love I can ensure
On which you can always depend
No house can long endure
Without love of man's best friend
Well, g, if you have an itch, scratch it, I guess.
Nessa, house you doin', Joisey goil?
Ah, Amoeba, I wasn't sure what I was looking for. Just me thinkin' like Shakespeare. Again.
Ha, Ariel. If it's tricky, it's true, I guess.
Just Madness, Actonbell. I once saw them in concert between the Go-gos and David Bowie. The only thing that could have made that statement cheesier would be if I had gone last year to the same show.
Andrew, this being a family and pretense blog, we prefer the form to whom would I accord my cordialities.
Sure, TLP, but for the purpose of murder.
Neva, that's the last time I meet you jet-lagged.
Terry, I bet it has a pool and solarium.
Icy, there are two things, that more than love,
Ease our troubling slog,
The grace from Heaven, up above
And the mercy of a dog.
I actually wrote that yesterday but I was afraid it made me sound happy.
You light up my life, O. K. B.
Well it doesn't pay to come late to the house party. All the good lines are gone.
"Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat
Nor hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man."
From one of my favorite poems, and yes I know I have used this before.
O.K.B., Hobbes? Latin? Italic?
The party starts when you get here, friend.
Omar Khayyam Boone, Doug.
thinkin' that should be the last time i leave a comment after less than 4 hours sleep and/or 2 TGSNWMs. oy. (apparently i write in double under those circumstances... sorry)
and, much as i hate to use this kind of language, LOL at your response to Andrew Donaldson. ; )
Hobbes, of course. I can't keep my personalities straight anymore.
Neva, just more commentary to scratch my head at. No problem.
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