December 2011
40 posts
2 tags
Not Getting Closer | Jack Gilbert
Walking in the dark streets of Seoul under the almost full moon. Lost for the last two hours. Finishing a loaf of bread and worried about the curfew. I have not spoken for three days and I am thinking, “Why not just settle for love? Why not just settle for love instead?”
“I do so love my witches and wicked queens. I find myself drawn to feminine...”
– Catherynne M. Valente (from her website FAQ)
(via baroquemirrors)
This is a bad year for dictators.
3 tags
Catherynne M. Valente sums up everything I have... →
But as I read about the tiny Brontes and their twelve wooden soldiers and their little magazine and newspaper and grand nations of their minds (even if Glass Town makes me a little uncomfortable as our small colonizers set their magical adventures in Darkest Africa) I am filled with longing.
… I want to have had that. I want to have had a close little circle who made up elaborate, endless...
“When I’m at work on a story, I never compose paragraphically. I write...”
– oh, Gary Lutz. (via meaghano)
Parts, pieces, flickery fragments.
(via victoriouswanderer)
1 tag
I have read the right books to interpret your...
Peach, Plum, Pear on the harp. What I’d give to see her live again.
“I said to the sun, ‘Tell me about the big bang.’ The sun said, ‘It hurts to...”
– Andrea Gibson (via rabbitinthemoon)
“Maybe what you think is a tough fist is really a tired ballerina with her arms...”
– Andrea Gibson (via jacketweather)
ambedo
dictionaryofobscuresorrows:
n. a kind of melacholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life, a mood whose only known cure is the vuvuzela.
Zielschmerz
dictionaryofobscuresorrows:
n. the exhilarating dread of finally pursuing a lifelong dream, which requires you to put your true abilities out there to be tested on the open savannah, no longer protected inside the terrarium of hopes and delusions that you created in kindergarten and kept sealed as long as you could, only to break in case of emergency.
“Maybe my passion is nothing special, but at least it’s mine.”
– Tove Jansson, Travelling Light (via acoustic-funeral)
“No,’ Snufkin said. And he thought angrily: ‘Why can’t they ever leave my...”
– Tales from Moominvalley, by Tove Jansson (via fuckyeahmoomintroll)
November 2011
50 posts
2 tags
“The two most important days in your life are the day you were born and the day...”
– Mark Twain (via nikki-next-door)
