May 2012
26 posts
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Anonymous asked: what are you currently reading?
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Anonymous asked: She drew the curtains, lay down. She sighed and said,
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The first stain happened when your hand first touched mine. The second is black pen ink. The third was an accident, or so everyone said. The fourth is a burn or worse. The fifth is the name of a feeling I made up and then wrote down. When no one’s around, I practice saying the words you’ll never hear.
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“Stare at the river but think of the sea, remember that Richard Burton’s secret name for Elizabeth Taylor was ‘Ocean’. The pull. The power. The possibility of destruction.”
-Emma Forrest, from the liner notes of Ceremonials by Florence + the Machine
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“It is dreadful when something weighs on your mind, not to have a soul to unburden yourself to. You know what I mean. I tell my piano the things I used to tell you.”
- Frederic Chopin
“you skipped class today.”
“yeah.”
“why?”
“the weather was nice.”
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Anonymous asked: she told me she loves me. what do I do?
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(ps: i love you guys for sunday. i’m in a sentimental mood and i need you all to know that you make me feel like goo sometimes. i love you for sunday and yesterday’s monday and today’s tuesday and i will love you all for every wednesday and thursday and friday and saturday to come. sunday made me feel like i was nine again and i need to thank you for that.
look what...
i’m going to spend the next ten minutes fully wrapping myself up in bubblewrap and pretending that i’m invincible.
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“I never knew a writer’s wife who wasn’t beautiful.”
- Kurt Vonnegut
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“Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods. You don’t see
its name in the flower books, and nobody you tell believes in its odd color or the way
its leaves grow in splayed rows down the whole length of the page. In fact the very page smells of spilled
red wine and the mustiness of the sea on a foggy day - the odor of truth and of lying.
And the words are so...
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Anonymous asked: how old are you?
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I’m translating a letter that was written to me in 1998…
by the kindest man I will ever know. He was troubled by a recent death. He was also troubled by my grandmother who (still) continues to force feed our family her baked pastries. I wonder what the kindest man I will ever know is doing right now. I wonder if he’s thought about those letters recently. I wonder if he’s...
Anonymous asked: stop giving in to 'grow-up'. turn skyward in reversal of the process, then refuse all fear of happiness. or something like that.
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i’m going to run away with a suitcase full of books and sand. i’ll dye my hair red. i’ll go by ‘poppy.’
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“Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it’s heavy, a...
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“I lie in the bed, still trembling. You can wet the rim of a glass and run your finger around the rim and it will make a sound. This is what I feel like: this sound of glass. I feel like the word shatter. I want to be with someone.”
- The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood
