February 2012
9 posts
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to daddy and mummy
What did I know, what did I know, of love’s austere and lonely offices?
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I never gave enough, and I am sorry; But we were all closed in the same defeat.
People do what they can; they were good people, They cared for us and loved us. Once they stood Tall in my childhood as the school, the steeple. How can I judge without ingratitude?
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Strangely apart, yet strangely together, Silence...
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Take my life, let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
Matthew 11:28
Lazarus
11, the first record of death. 13, the first remembered experience of dying, of me crying crying crying to the moon, praying to multiple gods, writing letters. Number Three occurs in little deaths.
I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real.
Friend dismisses my spiritual crisis. I got upset because I am surprised that it can be treated so lightly. I cried for weeks without you...
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“I loved them, according to the hallowed expression, which amounts to saying that...”
– Albert Camus
January 2012
12 posts
inadequacy torture me now
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timeimmemorial:
Having it out with melancholy Jane Kenyon
If many remedies are prescribed for an illness, you may be certain that the illness has no cure. - AP Chekhov, “The Cherry Orchard” 1 FROM THE NURSERY When I was born, you waited behind a pile of linen in the nursery, and when we were alone, you lay down on top of me, pressing the bile of desolation into every pore. And from that day...
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“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”
– Henry David Thoreau, Walden
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we are stardust we are golden we are billion year old carbon and we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden
December 2011
15 posts
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We are all truths, Cassandra
Taxonomy of Narrative Forms
Northop Frye sets out four attitudes that can underlie narration: they are the tragic, the comic, the romantic and the farcical. Of tragedy in which man tends against forces bent on stipping him of his humanity. In the tragical mode ultimately one is made aware of “the supremacy of impersonal power and … the limitation of human effort”. Both tragedy...
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the action of bodies in heat
Chloë: The future is all programmed like a computer – that’s a proper theory, isn’t it? Valentine: The deterministic universe, yes. Chloë: Right. Because everything including us is just a lot of atoms bouncing off each other like billiard balls. Valentine: Yes. There was someone, forget his name, 1820s, who pointed out that from Newton’s laws you could predict everything to come...
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“Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my...”
– Arthur Rimbaud
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Jean Baudrillard
To exhibit a desire is to crave something real, something bodily, something sensual. We cannot tell if what we desire is real - emotions are hyperreal by nature, signifiers without signified, floating concepts, possessing only illusory referentials - but we assume what we desire is real because it is so close. We perceive ourselves as real and what we desire is almost an extension of ourselves and...
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Current 93, Patripassian
She was empty and she could not bear being empty and covering the space she felt with clothes and walking streets crowded with fuller people, people going someplace important to them and doing things essential to them in these places, and then returning, much later in the evening, to better places to meet the valued persons who were the very reason for their coming and going and living each day...
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i hide the most when i am loneliest come back and hold me breathless itunes visualiser is my only magic friend now am going to read some jean baudrillard and realise that all is falsehood drink passionfruit juice and go out to get some books and glitter and paint so i can make some christmas presents and at the same time powder myself gold and pretend to be a butterfly
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Girl's Lament
In the years when we were all children, this inclining to be alone so much was gentle; others’ time passed fighting, and one had one’s faction, one’s near, one’s far-off place, a path, an animal, a picture. And I still imagined, that life would always keep providing for one to dwell on things within, Am I within myself not in what’s greatest? Shall what’s mine...
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Interior Portrait
You don’t survive in me because of memories; nor are you mine because of a lovely longing’s strength. What does make you present is the ardent detour that a slow tenderness traces in my blood. I do not need to see you appear; being born sufficed for me to lose you a little less.
(R. M. Rilke)
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Blank Joy
She who did not come, wasn’t she determined nonetheless to organize and decorate my heart? If we had to exist to become the one we love, what would the heart have to create? Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are the center of all my labors and my loves. If I’ve wept for you so much, it’s because I preferred you among so many outlined joys.
(Rainer Maria Rilke)
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The Poetics of Space
It would seem, then, that it is through their “immensity” that these two kinds of space the space of intimacy and world space blend. When human solitude deepens, then the two immensities touch and become identical. In one of Rilke’s letters, we see him straining toward “the unlimited solitude that makes a lifetime of each day, toward communion with the universe, in a word, space, the invisible...
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“Better to be an animal than a man, an insect than an animal, a plant than an...”
– E. M. Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born
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“What I really need is to get clear about what I must do, not what I must know,...”
– Soren Kierkegaard
November 2011
27 posts
Robert Kelly, from 'Ritual Dances'
all the room the dancer needs is in the dancer’s body its moves are what space is made of space comes after space happens to the dance place is what is left when the dance is done.
“Delve into the enigma where existence is obliterated—
Delve into all things...”
– Victor Hugo, To the One Who Stayed in France (1855). (via emanationsoftheyellowsign)
“The relation between what we see and what we know is never settled. Each evening...”
– John Berger, Ways of Seeing (via mythologyofblue)
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Pale Fire II
quickly quickly say the things you want to say before they flee from your memory.
s. cries of her sorrows and i feel them deeply, intensify them with mine own, perhaps, now, we are the same, we have felt the same. but too, the first reaction of shock, of stumbling over words - i wish we could both be happy. (moronic wish, doesn’t even make sense in my own philosophy, but it is the first...
Pale Fire I
It is a day like this. It is a weight that cannot be effaced. That weight is here, it descends on me like a dead body, pulls out my I, disembodied, a wisp of smoke, a whispering in the corners of the attic. I sit with Odradek, it is just a forgotten ball of wool with two knitting needles stuck in it, no little bat faces, death’s heads, I watch the light that falls like an ironing board from...
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