We rejoice in our broken-ness.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
"How children love the broken thing! And a puzzle is for the piecing together, especially for the young, who still believe it can be done."
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Labels:
books,
gregory maguire,
recommended books
Where's Fluffy
Saturday, June 27, 2009
" The way you're moving in your sleep
The way you look before you leap
The strange illusions that you keep,
You don't know, but I'm noticing. "
No way out.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I'm so screwed.
I just found out that there are no trains to Boston in Turner Falls. Kill me now.
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I just found out that there are no trains to Boston in Turner Falls. Kill me now.
No Titles
Saturday, June 20, 2009
In between waking and dreaming
Of drunken stars and white silences,
Their gazes articulated what they felt
With words that would never be born.
for W.
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Of drunken stars and white silences,
Their gazes articulated what they felt
With words that would never be born.
for W.
Labels:
poetry
On Loss and Recycling
I've learned to accept that we need to adjust, that making decisions is also part of growth and survival. I've come to live with the dying of one part of me that belongs to the past and the resurrection of the parts that have transcended the pain.
In a way, there's the struggle to survive in spite of always feeling a helpless sense of loss. I simply comfort myself with the promise of a future. Its urgency of salvation, this need to recycle--evaporating the past as I move on, if only to return changed, falling joyfully to the depths below.
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In a way, there's the struggle to survive in spite of always feeling a helpless sense of loss. I simply comfort myself with the promise of a future. Its urgency of salvation, this need to recycle--evaporating the past as I move on, if only to return changed, falling joyfully to the depths below.
Labels:
ramblings
Counting down
Monday, June 15, 2009
Communicating from a distance is a tough love affair.
I am pretty sure that the risks that I'm taking now is well worth it. No regrets. There's the future to look forward to...besides the struggle to preserve my present. But the dull-ache in my chest is not something that I hope to get used to.. I just know that I'd be so much happier with him being around. My own, personal, uplifter.
7 months to go...
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I am pretty sure that the risks that I'm taking now is well worth it. No regrets. There's the future to look forward to...besides the struggle to preserve my present. But the dull-ache in my chest is not something that I hope to get used to.. I just know that I'd be so much happier with him being around. My own, personal, uplifter.
7 months to go...
Labels:
ramblings
From the 25th of September 2006 'til today.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Just something I heard. And I just have to sigh and agree.
Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past can be any different.
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Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past can be any different.
A Feeling of Kinship...
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
This is from an interview with Michelle Williams...same Elle magazine!
Her smile comes easily but is complicated, never carefree. "I'm always aware of the whole," Williams says. "I have that feeling inside, like when something really tickles or delights me--it's not singular. I recognize all the awful things in the world, and in spite of them, I can still laugh." This hyperawareness has come at a price. "For so long, I felt like a walking open wound everywhere I went," she says. "There's this Joan Didion quote about being afflicted from an early age with a presentiment of loss. Did I come into the world like that? Or was I kind of gifted that?
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Her smile comes easily but is complicated, never carefree. "I'm always aware of the whole," Williams says. "I have that feeling inside, like when something really tickles or delights me--it's not singular. I recognize all the awful things in the world, and in spite of them, I can still laugh." This hyperawareness has come at a price. "For so long, I felt like a walking open wound everywhere I went," she says. "There's this Joan Didion quote about being afflicted from an early age with a presentiment of loss. Did I come into the world like that? Or was I kind of gifted that?
I was reading Elle magazine today and there was this excerpt from a poem by Galway Kinnell:
You scream, waking up from a nightmare.
When I sleepwalk
into your room, and pick you up,
and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me
hard,
as if clinging would save us. I think
you think
I will never die, I think I exude
to you the permanence of smoke or stars,
even as
my broken arms heal themselves around you.
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You scream, waking up from a nightmare.
When I sleepwalk
into your room, and pick you up,
and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me
hard,
as if clinging would save us. I think
you think
I will never die, I think I exude
to you the permanence of smoke or stars,
even as
my broken arms heal themselves around you.
Sedona
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Chapel of the Holy Cross
view inside the chapel...
I went to Sedona today. It's a place in Arizona known for its red rock formations and crimson soil. The Native Americans regarded it as sacred land, so much so that none of them actually settled there. I couldn't help thinking how appropriate it was, that the land was as blood-stained as its history. It reminded me of a scene from Gamalinda's Empire of Memory, where the land is called as witness as an earthquake regurgitates fossilized bones to remind the people of what they've failed to remember.
Life does go on, doesn't it?
It just bothers me how easy it is to forget.
And just like that, we innovate and built roads to modernize it. Now it's a tourist spot with commercial stores, restaurants, and even a museum. It was too easy to build over and cover up history. I can only wonder what happened long ago, on that very same spot that I was standing on.
Our first stop was this place called Blue Moon. It's a hole in the wall but it's known for it's crunchy pizza crusts and breakfast food. I had a root beer float and a Chicken Ranch Pizza with Jalapenos. Different, but delicious. I wouldn't mind going back.
After a filling lunch, we began our "tour." Driving around and stopping at all the look-out points. It was amazing. I thought to myself, "How can it be denied, that we are this small compared to this incredibly enormous world?" The rock formations towered over me, curving, dropping, sharply edging away toward the horizon. So much to see in this lifetime. I'm grateful for the gift of color.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
I'm in the middle of reading Sebastian Night..and can I just say that it articulates the You in my head and the You that I know so perfectly? Sometimes I don't know if I've created you so poetically sound in my mind that every time you are unconventional it seems like it's rational that you aren't rational?
p.41-42
Sebastian in spite of himself realized with perhaps a kind of helpless amazement that no matter how wisely and sweetly his surroundings played up to his old dreams, he himself, or rather still the most precious part of himself, would remain hopelessly alone as it had always been. The keynote of Sebastian's life was solitude and the kindlier fate tried to make him feel at home by counterfeiting admirably the things he thought he wanted, the more he was aware of his inability to fit into the picture,--into any kind of picture. When at last he thoroughly understood this and grimly stated to cultivate self-consciousness as if it had been some kind of rare talent or passion, only then did Sebastian derive real satisfaction from its rich and monstrous growth, ceasing to worry about his awkward congeniality--but that was much later.
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p.41-42
Sebastian in spite of himself realized with perhaps a kind of helpless amazement that no matter how wisely and sweetly his surroundings played up to his old dreams, he himself, or rather still the most precious part of himself, would remain hopelessly alone as it had always been. The keynote of Sebastian's life was solitude and the kindlier fate tried to make him feel at home by counterfeiting admirably the things he thought he wanted, the more he was aware of his inability to fit into the picture,--into any kind of picture. When at last he thoroughly understood this and grimly stated to cultivate self-consciousness as if it had been some kind of rare talent or passion, only then did Sebastian derive real satisfaction from its rich and monstrous growth, ceasing to worry about his awkward congeniality--but that was much later.
Labels:
books,
recommended books
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