Remembrance of bad days past (was Re: pynchon-l-digest V2 #1936}

[Terrance]

Paul Mackin wrote:
> 
> Since Derek doesn't seem to be present let me in his stead 

OK, that's what we need here, 

a funny bone to pick, to dig  our grave days and not dig our
graves. And this rocky cyber place, and this tired subject,
tender, and for its labor, still an un-tilled and untended
soil. Our grave days a mound.  Here, you arrive, shovel and
spade in hand, ready to work, course. To labor under the
Sun, to pull free the old boulders and heap them together in
a pile for mending walls. There is something in Nature that
doesn't like it.  Tired we stand, our backs mount, strong
and hard with digging,  brush off our knees, survey the
field, a cautious glare, wipe the brow with hands calloused,
corse toil, gravely to work. a spade sliced deep, stones
clak, sharp stabs, splitting the soil, a gaping wound. 

Dig, you narrow backs, dig.