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"Invictus" by William Ernest Henley, 1875


Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid.

Other People's Problems

2:54AM, Thursday night / Friday morning. The lobby of an upscale hotel. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.

The lights are dim and low, but the internet is still working. I'm not sure if it's the flu or whatever, but I picked up some amoxacillin and took 500 mg. If it's bacterial, that'll kill it dead. My friend and colleague recommended I take probiotics as well to counteract it, so I had yogurt earlier and will try to grab some Korean kimchee tomorrow.

Lil Wayne and Robbin Thick are playing in my little white headphones.

My hands up, my hands up They want me with my hands up Oh, shooter Oh, shooter

While walking earlier, the bright moon shining through murky clouds struck me as particularly magnificent and I had an idea for a poem about about John Brown and John Wilkes Booth. It turns into a long Wiki-walk about the American Civil War, and I'm this close to getting the poem finished but can't get the ending right.

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