Thoreauly Thursday

I once dreamed about a man named Henry. We were in love. It was a fanfuckingtastic dream.

That Henry was not Henry David Thoreau. I have never dreamed of Henry David Thoreau, and I probably never will. But I do have to take a two and half hour class on him and Ralph Waldo Emerson every Thursday.

Henry David Thoreau looking his handsomest in hopes that I will dream about him.

I would not describe learning about transcendalists as my favorite activity. Also, I feel there is too much irony in reading Emerson and Thoreau telling me to have an original relation to the universe instead of relating to the universe through the writings of people before me. But I digress.

From my ass to seat melding afternoons on Thursday, I have born a new coping mechanism: more limericks. So today, I bring you a new perspective on Henry.

There once was a man named Thoreau,
Who wanted to learn and to know.
So he learned of the trees,
But the birds and the bees
Was actually all he needed to grow.

And I do mean grow.