I iz Insyde Ye Wall, Knowin Ye Secrets of Lyfe

Some say my way of speech and writing are olde fashioned, and that may be true. I have been away many years, deep in study of strange, far away landes. But now I return, dear Providence, to take up again my favorite pursuits, both antiquarian and now also modern. In time, I hope to bend my wordes to be more like yours. In time…

While ‘renovations’ continue at the bungalow on the Pawtuxet, I find it passing faire to retreat into the shadows of the townhouse on College Hill, and to survey the changes since last I spent much tyme in the dank and festering City. You remember how I hate the day and associations with common people? So you will take no aback from my love (How do you say now? ‘lurve’?) for this electronical type-writing machine that lets me work in the close, damp cellar of my parent’s ancient home wearing little more than an undergarment, and yet this same device sends my writings to all points around our small and ignorant globe without any wiring or other means of conveyance. Perhaps humanity is SLIGHTLY less doomed to eternal darkness than once we thought…

And such interesting items does this contraption bring to us. Messages, seemingly of mild innocence, that, to the knowing eye, are veiled references to esoteric concepts best spoke through syne and symbol. I have prepared one for you to ponder. After ye Jump.


Of course, I have not journeyed all this way to talk to you of kitties and typing machines. In goode sooth, my purpose here is married to your same: exposition of the foul and unwholesome corruption of the workings of the city and even of the state. It were as if some outer being – unseen and (mostly) unsensed – clouds the minds of those to whose judgment the civile future is entrusted. (Of all the thinges I’ve seen changed by the relentless passing of time, this, alas, is not one.)

And what of you, ye madding crowde…? Some say you wise. Methinks not. Like sacrifice to the deity do you line yourselves, one after the next.

Thus is our lot, that we few with eyes that truly see must speak to those with ears that truly heare. And among us, we generate a knowledge rarely seen in this time or place. And we can have no pity for those who choose to live in willful ignorance of the truthe. Already, their end is writ.

So for now, we part ways. I must prepare – an olde friend has come for dinner. Oh, the joy of ye modern expression: #nomnomnom

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Providence Daily Dose