Contrariwise

Which is not to say that I am against improvisation. Although, reading Kora in Hell, for example, is like hunting for a four-leaf clover in a patch of grass; you're sure that if you look long enough you'll find it, but there's always the feeling that you could and should be doing something better.

Thus saith the lottery ticket to the grumbling debtor.

The long and the short road to satori; steep, respectively, and gentle incline. These last two posts have been shots in the dark, for, separated from my folder of classical contents, I am forced into an avant-garde riposte against my own tradition.

And the vanguard is the most-glorious-if-successful but most-miserable and foolhardy-if-a-failure position.

The new sense of it is, I've got something of a long life to live out.

Assuming my organs and efforts and will and luck at not getting squashed do not give out.

And what shall I do, if, as is the case, living it out without charting its here and there is a little bit boring? The short and the steep of it suggest that the days drag long for the uninitiated. The long and the gentle, well, that's a question of smelling the roses on the roadside

Or in literary terms, the work of poetic poses on a broadside.