February 2011
34 posts
When you sing, when you sing The stars fill up my eyes Galaxies pour down my cheeks Galaxies…they flood the street Galaxies When we dance, when we dance Eels and sea grass float on by I’m 10,000 leagues beneath the sea 10,000 leagues…beneath the green 10,000 leagues When we kiss, when we kiss Bears and boulders vibrate through the air Gravity is dead you see No gravity…all I need is...
January 2011
33 posts
What the hell am I doing with my life?
William Dean Howells
By beauty of course I mean truth, for one involves the other; it is only the false art which is ugly, and it is only the false which is universal. The truth may be indecent, but it cannot be vicious, it can never corrupt or deprave. The truth which I mean, the truth which is the only beauty, is truth to human experience, and human experience is so manifold and so recondite, that no scheme can be...
Sincerity is an openness of heart; we find it in very few people; what we usually see is only an artful dissimulation to win the confidence of others. Francois de la Rochefoucauld
You’re intriguing.
Her white blank page & a swelling rage, rage ...
Sometimes I want to touch forever.
To lay my head upon your chest and feel your quivering heart.
It’s a Leslie Feist kind of day…
This is one of my favorite songs of all time. No...
WatchEveryone could learn a thing or two from Delbert Williams.
Feelin' Sickly
My new roommates name is Wei Wang - she’s an international student from southeast China via the Netherlands. She gave me this ginger soup - which is supposed to make my runny nose and achey throat go away. Here’s to what is already turning out to be quite a semester.
Last Day Home
I woke up early to make chocolate chip pancakes for Josh and Luke, and coffee for me and Dad. Snow is on the ground and everything is frozen over. It’s quiet here, and everything moves slower. I had forgotten how easy it is to be home.
I see our time expand in the air almost forcibly,...
It's 2:46 in the morning.
Can’t. Stop. Watching. Hoarders.
“I like women who haven’t lived with too many men. I don’t expect virginity but I...”
– Charles Bukowski - ‘A poem for swingers, a poem for the playgirls of the universe’
Sometimes I sleep for days and sometimes I exist...