Nothing | "You Jivin' Me, Turkey?"

—WILL DURANT

WILL DURANT (1885–1981) Is Pictured Here With His Students At “The Modern School“ In New York City. This Photo Was Taken Circa 1911 Or 1912.

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_(((TEACHER)))_

_(((WRITER)))_

_(((HISTORIAN)))_

_(((PHILOSOPHER)))_

_(((PULITZER PRIZE WINNER)))_

…So Now I Wait.

I’m A Professional At Waiting.

My Whole Life Has Been A Series Of “Waiting Games” And I’m Sure It Has Been The Same For A Lot Of You.

Wait.

It Seems Like All We Ever Do Is Wait.

I Hate Waiting.

I Sincerely Do.

I’m Good At It.

But, I Still Hate It.

I Just Don’t Know What To Think.

Or, What I Should Think?

Or Even, What’s Available To Me In Regard To Thinking?

The Whole Time I Was In The Emergency Room…

…The Whole Time I Was Thinking About Someone Else.

The Doctor, Or Nurse, Would Come In To Speak With Me…

…And All I Was Concerned About Was Him.

How He’d Feel.

My Life, As Far As I Was Concerned, Was On The Line…

…And He Was All I Thought About.

Him.

Of All Things…

…Him.

If The Almost “Stroke” I Had Would Have Finished Me, What Would He Think?

Would It Devastate Him?

Would It Momentarily Cripple Him?

Would He Even Give Two-Shits?

And I Thought About Loving Him.

How I’ve Kept Quiet.

How I’ve Left Him Alone Because I Knew Doing More Than That Would Upset Him.

Does That Make Me Pathetic?

Knowing I’ve Accepted My Role On The Sidelines?

I Don’t Want To.

I Really Don’t.

But It’s “THAT” Or “NOTHING”.

And Between The Two…

…Yeah…

…I’d Accept “THAT”.

ANYWAY…

…The Point Of This Was The MRI.

It’s Set.

It’s In The Computer.

We’re Ready.

I’m Hoping It’s Clean…

…Just The Same As I’m Hoping To Find Something.

Either Way…

…At Least I’ll Know SOMETHING.

To Me, That’s A Preference.

Good Or Bad, I Wanna Know What’s Up.

Ya Know?!

SURE YOU DO!!

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-={JEAN MAURICE EUGÈNE CLÉMENT COCTEAU}=-

{{{1889–1963}}}

((POET))

((ARTIST))

((WRITER))

((NOVELIST))

((DRAMATIST))

((PLAYWRIGHT))

((FILMMAKER))

((DESIGNER))

“…And Always A Clever Thing To Say.”

—WILL DURANT

_(((TEACHER)))_

_(((WRITER)))_

_(((HISTORIAN)))_

_(((PHILOSOPHER)))_

_(((PULITZER PRIZE WINNER)))_

…So Now I Wait.

I’m A Professional At Waiting.

My Whole Life Has Been A Series Of “Waiting Games” And I’m Sure It Has Been The Same For A Lot Of You.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

It Seems Like All We Ever Do Is Wait.

I Hate Waiting.

I Sincerely Do.

I’m Good At It.

But, I Still Hate It.

I Just Don’t Know What To Think.

Or, What I Should Think?

Or Even, What’s Available To Me In Regard To Thinking?

The Whole Time I Was In The Emergency Room…

…The Whole Time I Was Thinking About Someone Else.

The Doctor, Or Nurse, Would Come In To Speak With Me…

…And All I Was Concerned About Was Him.

How He’d Feel.

My Life, As Far As I Was Concerned, Was On The Line…

…And He Was All I Thought About.

Him.

Of All Things…

…Him.

If The Almost “Stroke” I Had Would Have Finished Me, What Would He Think?

Would It Devastate Him?

Would It Momentarily Cripple Him?

Would He Even Give Two-Shits?

And I Thought About Loving Him.

How I’ve Kept Quiet.

How I’ve Left Him Alone Because I Knew Doing More Than That Would Upset Him.

Does That Make Me Pathetic?

Knowing I’ve Accepted My Role On The Sidelines?

I Don’t Want To.

I Really Don’t.

But It’s “THAT” Or “NOTHING”.

And Between The Two…

…Yeah…

…I’d Accept “THAT”.

ANYWAY…

…The Point Of This Was The MRI.

It’s Set.

It’s In The Computer.

We’re Ready.

I’m Hoping It’s Clean…

…Just The Same As I’m Hoping To Find Something.

Either Way…

…At Least I’ll Know SOMETHING.

To Me, That’s A Preference.

Good Or Bad, I Wanna Know What’s Up.

Ya Know?!

SURE YOU DO!!

“…For He Shall NEVER Be Disappointed.“

—ALEXANDER POPE

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-<<WRITER>>-

-<<POET>>-

-<<TRANSLATOR>>-

“…Of Which Reason Knows Nothing.”

—BLAISE PASCAL