Thursday, September 22, 2011

Weaving spiders, come not here iv

On Thursday evenings,
the Bohemian Club will
present entertainments
in the dining room. It
will be natural, to ap-
plaud or otherwise mark
one's delight. One ev-
ening, I clapped; and
from across the table,
a fellow barked, Those
are hands that have
never worked. Al-
though not uncon-
scionable in that 
precinct, friends did
exploit this outburst
unlimitedly in private,
and it is a jest that
follows me to this day.

I regard this portrait,
then, with curiosity -

The face is excellent.
The hands are coarse.
What went wrong?

I honestly have never
minded this silliness
behind the closed doors
of convivial subscrip-
tion. But I have dread-
ed and detested its
publication to an un-
knowing world since my
earliest youth. I have
known since the age of
6 or 7, that I would
need law, and that I
would need my own kind,
if more than one of us

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