Friday, April 6, 2007

Purple feathers.

Every scientist has one other thing on his mind. By other, I mean other than science. Ben has ice hockey. Nick has cricket. Linda has smoking. Watson is crazy. Stillman has politics. Bruce has wives. Everyone has something else. For me, its my blog. I keep procrastinating writing down the lines in my head. They're like SDS gels - if not blotted onto blogs soon enough, they'll diffuse away into the buffer and be lost as an unknown ion forever. I don't know whether me writing so electrophorically has anything to do with the fact that I have had time to think of little else than work. I don't think many people in the scientific community blog, so my thoughts rest to be interpreted.

Give it a name

I've trodden that path before
The one in front of you now
Soon you'll turn your back to it
But don't ask me how.

The person I thought was you
Turned out to be a mirror
Although you are just a reflection
Your presence is much more clear.

If you were me
And I were you
Would it all then be false
All that's now true?

So what is it called?
And who do I blame?
It's a little more than love
Just give it a name.

COLOR: That of those ridiculous feathers sitting on my desk that belong to Jen
SONG: Baby drive my car.

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