A soldier's blog and his final post: 22-10-05

[McKenzie]

Seems no dissent is allowed.

<snip>

I thank all of you who have been so supportive recently. I have never before received so much positive feedback, and it was very heart-warming to know that so many people out there care. Having said that, it breaks my heart to say that this will be my last post on this blog. I wish I could just stop there, but I can not. The following also needs to be said:

</snip>

Read on>>>

http://goetzit.blogspot.com/

[nostalgicaboutmyfutr]

1. How sad... EOM

[expatriot]

3. he didn't sign off without a fight.

We have always been at war with Eurasia. We were never at war with Eastasia. I will now take part in the two minute hate, sir.

[expatriot]

2. unblog

brilliant. this guy is brilliant, he is well-read and has a sharp mind.
I just read quite a few entries and was very impressed with his writing and allusions

He reads his poetry... this is the poem he alludes to in the entry with the title Coy Mistress, in which he is talking excitedly about his upcoming furlough and conversations with his girl Holly.


"To His Coy Mistress" Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

[lildreamer316]

4. This blows my mind.

I mean, I know this happens all the time, but damn. Shit. Fuck.
Hope someone is recording it for later.............

[Callalily]

5. Another solider silenced, how sad. (n/t)