Poetic spam

[muckefuck]

I found this in my mailbox:

Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,The pain of being born into matter

Could someone have signed me up for some couplet-a-day service? Perhaps, but I would think such a service would have less prosaic subject lines than "Autodesk AutoCAD 2008 $129". Or am I simply blind to the poetry of everyday things?

In other recent oddness, I was walking back through the park from monshu's terribly late last night when I saw a cyclist approaching from the opposite direction. I didn't think he spied me, but he pulled off the sidewalk and tucked himself in between some overgrown shrubs and a spruce. I proceeded with caution; when I passed the spot, I turned to look and saw him standing just off the path. He was a husky middle-aged man in t-shirt and shorts, not at all shabby-looking like the homeless people who typically roam that park at night; his face was glistening with sweat and he was breathing hard. We regarded each other for a moment and I kept walking. When I turned back to look a dozen paces later, he was getting back on his bike and continuing onward. WTF?

Comments

[jhvilas.livejournal.com]

Perhaps he was running (cycling?) away from someone? Or perhaps he'd just had a scare of some sort: I remember pulling over in my car once after a very scary almost-collision until my adrenalin level got somewhere near normal. But yes, the first thing I'd'a' thought was that he was taking [or leaving :) ] a piss.