Conflicker or fucker or something…London Calling The Clash…exuent the Queen….
we can find comfort in though immortal lines from T.S. Eliot that I hopefully can set down from memory-
April is the cruel month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire stirring, dull roots with spring rain
Winter kept us warm, covering.
Oh what’s this? a note in the margin from Ezra Pound, Eliot’s editor on The Waste Land.
“Eliot, are you trying to drive us crazy? Get out in the fresh air.”