November 2009
October 2009
-2, Richard Brautigan
poetry365:
Everybody wants to go to bed
with everybody else, they’re
lined up for blacks, so I’ll
go to bed with you. They won’t
miss us.
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Even my professor signs his emails with “J.”
I’ve made so many mistakes and the weekend hasn’t even started yet.
“The dark lady, the spider woman, the evil seductress who tempts man and brings...”
– from Janey Place’s article “Women in film noir;” this article also says that we are a “phallocentric” culture. Just throwing that out there.
“You who bruised my lips with kisses. Kiss them well again.”
– Heinrich Heine (1797-1856) (via quickienewyork)
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Tiredness and depression have so long been linked for that as soon as I start to feel physically worn out or even get sleepy I start to get depressed as well. It’s a problem, as I really like the night and tend to be a night person, and also because of how busy I’ve been lately. Depression prevents me from doing things, or doing things well, as does tiredness, and when the two combine...
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Today is interesting. The weather is bad but not terrible—rainy but not muggy. I’ve finished half of the essays I have due this week and am somehow staying organized with my increasingly busy schedule.
Today I feel more sure of myself. I feel like I can support myself and my emotions and I do not need a lover to hold me together. I do not feel like becoming a housewife today. I could...
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I don’t know what to do right now. This is the hardest it’s ever hit me, aside from that time driving on the highway in the rain with nowhere to pull over thanks to the ongoing construction. But still, maybe even harder because that was just for one night, one hour-long, tormented drive home. It’s been three days, one filled almost entirely with sleep, and I have yet to feel much...
“What about you? Are you the happiest and the saddest right now that you’ve ever...”
– Nicole Krauss (in The History Of Love) (via creampuff) (via lovebot) (via quote-book) (via littlefists) (via jennifurmarie) (via closertotheocean)
It’s like that anticipation when I see someone who may be him hoping it is and hoping it isn’t.
“And I’m taking a class about New Orleans, and I understand portions of the...”
– my dear friend Annie
Song of our So-Called Friend, Okkervil River
You...
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This is the internet: everything here is fiction, everything here is easy.
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In that dream last night, that dream that kept me in bed, helped me ignore the fire alarms, makes me scared to answer a certain email, I was dancing. My feet were pointed and I could float in the air and I did perfect splits. There were other things, yes, of course there were other things (my dream are never so simple) but oh it was wonderful to feel those muscles doing those things, things they...
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So maybe I romanticize things. Maybe I think that I’ll end up in a one-sided marriage. Maybe I want someone broken because I like that vulnerability and I think it shows that, at least at one point, you were strong. And you can be again.
And maybe I want someone to take care of me because really, I think I’m always going to be a little girl, no matter how grown up those men think I...
Love in the Cathedral, Miller Williams
poetry365:
“…except you ravish me.”
In the beginning I couldn’t speak to you.
Not because the words wouldn’t come;
it was because they might. Not words like love,
blooming where they fall; words like come here.
When once you turned to look straight at me
out of a crowd, I thought I must have let
the sounds inside my head come out, like “let
us all go home.” I wouldn’t say to you
the...
Words, Miller Williams
poetry365:
Strip to the waist and have a seat. The doctor
will be in soon. He smiles and the nurse smiles.
He sits on the table, bumping his knees together,
scratching around is navel, counting the tiles.
We never talk, she says, and so you talk
and everything you speak of falls apart.
This is how we come to understand
what they mean by chambers of the heart.
Some words are said to...
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My rambling sounds better when it’s been written down and filtered through the more poetic side of my mind.
I’m very good at getting myself into things that will very likely end up messy.
122, Osip Madelstam
poetry365:
Let me be in your service
like the others
mumbling predictions,
moth dry with jealousy.
Parched tongue
thirsting, not ever for a word—
for me the dry air is empty
again without you.
I’m not jealous any more
but I want you.
I carry myself like a victim
to the hangman.
I will not call you
either joy or love.
All my own blood is gone.
Something strange paces there now.
...
“That is not love. That is only passion and lust. When you love you wish to do...”
– Ernest Hemingway (via whokilled) (via mandalay) (via worldonfire)
Description of Her Eyes, Franz Wright
poetry365:
Two teaspoonfuls,
and my mind goes everyone can kiss my ass now—
then it’s changed,
I change my mind.
Eyes so sad, and infinitely kind.
Quest, Franz Wright
poetry365:
The bell which
when struck emits
silence—
I don’t want to sleep with you
I want to wake up with you,
when I was sick in bed.
when I close my eyes I still wish it were you. Oh please, please become someone else.
Songs from the House of Death, Or How to Make It...
poetry365:
for Donald Hall
1.
From the house of death there is rain.
From rain is flood and flowers.
And flowers emerge through the ruins
of those who left behind
stores of corn and dishes,
turquoise and bruises
from the passion
of fierce love.
2.
I run my tongue over the skeleton
jutting from my jaw. I taste
the grit of heartbreak.
3.
The procession of spirits
who walk out of...
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Waking up alone can be so exhausting.
flying.jpg (image) →
tsunamis:
I want to be more like this.
When I feel someone kicking my seat on a flight I check to see if it’s a young kid or a teenager/adult. If it’s a young kid I let them be. If it’s someone who knows better I will glare. I love other people’s kids. I gave this young girl a dirty penny so she could do this penny cleaning thing and I would have let her skip me in line...
“Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.”
– Arthur Miller (via quote-book) (via worldonfire)
I don’t usually reblog quotebook because a) I don’t follow them and b) I’m slightly creeped out by them (in a good way?) because whenever they reblog my stuff (usually through lovebot [checkout my name-dropping tonight, y’all...
The Story of Our Lives, Mark Strand
poetry365:
1
We are reading the story of our lives
which takes place in a room.
The room looks out on a street.
There is no one there,
no sound of anything.
The trees are heavy with leaves,
the parked cars never more.
We keep turning pages,
hoping for something,
something like mercy or change,
a black line that would bind us
or keep us apart.
The way it is, it would seem
the book...
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Someone reblogged this today. In just a few months it will really be winter and it will mark a year from something. I dreamt that you proposed to me. There were other things in the dream, as there always are, and few of them made any sense, as they never do, but that part did. And oh god did it hurt to wake up from that.
It is (almost) winter and there will be oranges and snow. I am learning how...
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So there’s someone new: a new letter, a new name. And we’re the same but different enough that it’s not annoying. And I gave him my book and that probably means more than even sex or sleeping together without sex does to me but you’d have to know me to know why. I’ve given people books before and not gotten them back or gotten them back in worse condition or gotten...
