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I assure you, I was on heavy medication when this was taken
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"The warren of my last presiding is overcome with the peoples of my next ignorance.
What is it that I have done, what is..."
More about Ian
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More About Ian
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Schools:
Dwight-Englewood School, Attended 1988 - 1994, Class of 1994
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College/University:
Vassar College, Attended 1994 - 1998, Class of 2006, Bachelor's Degree, Urban Studies
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Occupation:
Analyst/Philosopher/Student
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Affiliations:
NSA
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Hobbies and Interests:
Arts, sciences, baseball games, other games, friends, nature, life
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Favorite Books:
The Loved One, The Idiot, The Charterhouse of Parma, The Third Policeman
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Favorite Movies:
2001: A Space Odyssey, Pulp Fiction, The Shawshank Redemption, The Wages of Fear, Lord of the Rings, Crimes and Misdemeanors, 8 1/2
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Favorite Music:
Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Bartok, The Beatles, Beethoven, Bach, Beastie Boys, Berlioz, Bowie, etc. etc.
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Favorite TV Shows:
Yankees games
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About Me:
The warren of my last presiding is overcome with the peoples of my next ignorance.
What is it that I have done, what is it that I know? Can anyone take me by the hand and show me one single thing that I have done, so that I might know it? I could show you, but you would not know it, and neither would I, for I would know only myself, not what I have done.
I always feel sure of my mind's feet, those things that one can never see, for they only exist in the unknown world, the real world of madness and transience, the fleeting and undetectable present.
etc.
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Who I Want to Meet:
True love is bewildering to me, standing as I do in a lovely world consumed with itself. Have I ever loved a bird in a tree as much as thee? I could not say, my true love. O, but I have loved them dearly, loved them so, felt the warmth not of their blood, but of their very presence. Gladly I have stood beneath that tree, and the bird with me, and when at last it did fly off, only more did I love it then. Is this not true love? Is it not? Should I not do the same for you? Or should I bind myself to your person, entwine the vine of my affection from my fingertips to your supple waistline, and never let go? Should I listen to you less, or interpret you more? How more could I love you than I love such a thing, other than to let the warmth of your very living make the bird's flight all the more dear to me, simply for its beating wings, and heavenly loft.
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Ian's Groups
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- Scrabble
- 55 Members | Public group
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Testimonials and Comments for Ian
disappeared for a week already. Ian was
running. This was back in the days
before his career ending stone skipping
injury. He was running. I was eating.
An unshowered man named Dan threw a
frisbee. Ian sprinted, stage right to
stage left. As the frisbee neared, he
reached his right arm out. His hair was
scraggly even then. He was focused on
the task, that look in his eyes like an
eight year old sizing up a pop fly in
little league. Feet moving, windows
passing, the frisbee traveled its
predictable trajectory across the
trees. Only inches away then. Fingers
stretching to grab. Just as the disk
met his palm, his eyes opened wide,
bulged beneath their skins like a
lizard. Then, as in a cartoon, his
heels pointed toward the sky and his
head pointed toward the ground. It was
instantaneous. A groundless pinwheel of
Ian, red shirt, blue pants, yellow
frisbee. When he landed he held the
frisbee in his left hand. Then he
picked up something else off the
ground. When he stood up he waived it
like the starting flag at a race track.
He waived the bananna peel and laughed.
Everyone laughed. That's Ian, how I
always remember him, falling on a
bananna peel and laughing as hard as
one laughs when one cannot consider the
absence of laughter.