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

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

Then why was he looking outward when I passed by? And if he was already finished, then why did he stand there gawping instead of getting back on his bike?

But you're right, that is the most likely explanation.