Monday, December 29, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Bukowski
Sway With Me
sway with me, everything sad --
madmen in stone houses
without doors,
lepers steaming love and song
frogs trying to figure
the sky;
sway with me, sad things --
fingers split on a forge
old age like breakfast shell
used books, used people
used flowers, used love
I need you
I need you
I need you:
it has run away
like a horse or a dog,
dead or lost
or unforgiving.
sway with me, everything sad --
madmen in stone houses
without doors,
lepers steaming love and song
frogs trying to figure
the sky;
sway with me, sad things --
fingers split on a forge
old age like breakfast shell
used books, used people
used flowers, used love
I need you
I need you
I need you:
it has run away
like a horse or a dog,
dead or lost
or unforgiving.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Bill Hicks
"The world is like a ride in an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills and it's very brightly coloured and it's very loud and it's fun, for a while. Some people have been on the ride for a long time and they begin to question: "Is this real, or is this just a ride?" And other people have remembered, and they come back to us, they say, "Hey, don't worry, don't be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride." And we kill those people."
Monday, December 15, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Winter Birds
It's the Widow now that owns that angry plow,
The spartan Mule and The Crippled Cow
The fallow field that will yield no more,
As the fox lay sleeping beneath her kitchen floor
The stream can't contain such the withering rain,
And from the pasture the fence it is leaning away
The clouds crack and growl
Like some great cat on the prowl
Crying out, "I am, I am" over and over again
The days grow short
As the nights grow long
The kettle sings its tortured song
As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow,
Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now
The winter birds have come back again,
Here the sprightly Chickadee
Gone now is the Willow Wren
In passing greet each other as if old, old friends
And to the voiceless trees
It is their own they will lend
The days grow short
As the nights grow long
The kettle sings its tortured song
As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow,
Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now
And though all these things will change,
The memories will remain
As green to gold, and gold to brown
The leaves will fall to feed the ground
And in their falling, make no sound
Oh my lady,
Lady I am loving you now
I've gathered all my money and I'm goin' to town,
To buy my lady a long and flowing gown
'Cause come tomorrow morning
We're off to the county fair
I'll find a yellow flower
And I will lace it in her hair
Ray LaMontagne- Winter Birds
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
"Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn’t the world, it wasn’t the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don’t know, but it’s so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it."
— Jonathan Safran Foer
Friday, September 26, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
"I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for? We need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us."
— Franz Kafka
via en·do·sym·bi·ot·ic
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Gestalt Prayer
I do my thing and you do your thing
I am not in this world to
live up to your expectations,
and you are not in this world to
live up to mine.
You are you
and I am I
and if by chance we find each other,
it's beautiful.
-Frederick Perls
I am not in this world to
live up to your expectations,
and you are not in this world to
live up to mine.
You are you
and I am I
and if by chance we find each other,
it's beautiful.
-Frederick Perls
Bluebird
There’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you. there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?
Saturday, September 6, 2008
"I thought about life, about my life, the embarrassments, the little coincidences, the shadows of alarm clocks on bedside tables. I thought about my small victories and everything I’d seen destroyed, I’d swum through mink coats on my parents’ bed while they hosted downstairs, I’d lost the only person I could have spent my only life with, I’d left behind a thousand tons of marble, I could have released sculptures, I could have released myself from the marble of myself. I’d experienced joy, but not nearly enough, could there be enough? The end of suffering does not justify the suffering, and so there is no end to suffering, what a mess I am, I thought, what a fool, how foolish and narrow, how worthless, how pinched and pathetic, how helpless. None of my pets know their own names, what kind of person am I?"
-Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
-Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Friday, September 5, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Sparrow
To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be
young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage
to love.
To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be
young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage
to love.
-Charles Bukowski
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Hipster: The Dead End of Western Civilization
"We are a lost generation, desperately clinging to anything that feels real, but too afraid to become it ourselves. We are a defeated generation, resigned to the hypocrisy of those before us, who once sang songs of rebellion and now sell them back to us. We are the last generation, a culmination of all previous things, destroyed by the vapidity that surrounds us. The hipster represents the end of Western civilization – a culture so detached and disconnected that it has stopped giving birth to anything new."
- Adbusters/link
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
if its the beaches
Don't say it's over
Cause that's the worst news I could hear I swear that I will
Do my best to be here just the way you like it
Even though its hard to hide
Push my feelings all aside
I will rearrange my plans and change for you
If I could go back
That's the first thing I would do I swear that I would
Do my best to folow through
Come up with a master plan
A homerun hit, a winning stand
A gaurantee and not a promise
That I'll never let your love slip from my hands
If it's the beaches
If it's the beaches' sands you want
Then you will have them
If it's the mountains' bending rivers
Then you will have them
If it's the wish to run away
Then I will grant it
Take whatever you think of
While I go gas up the truck
Pack the old love letters up
We will read them when we forget why we left here
Cause that's the worst news I could hear I swear that I will
Do my best to be here just the way you like it
Even though its hard to hide
Push my feelings all aside
I will rearrange my plans and change for you
If I could go back
That's the first thing I would do I swear that I would
Do my best to folow through
Come up with a master plan
A homerun hit, a winning stand
A gaurantee and not a promise
That I'll never let your love slip from my hands
If it's the beaches
If it's the beaches' sands you want
Then you will have them
If it's the mountains' bending rivers
Then you will have them
If it's the wish to run away
Then I will grant it
Take whatever you think of
While I go gas up the truck
Pack the old love letters up
We will read them when we forget why we left here
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
“ I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited."
— Sylvia Plath
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
“Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.”
-Henry Miller
-Henry Miller
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
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