February 2009
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
– Gandalf, The Fellowship Of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien
January 2009
Fiction
I had forgotten how much I loved fantasy until I picked up The City Of Dreaming Books (Walter Moers) and was completely lost in it. I’d been reading so many classics and works dealing with the inner works of the human mind through regular life that I forgot how powerful absolute fiction was. Garth Nix, Clive Barker, now Walter Moers, what next? What do I read to fill in the space between...
I want to take the poison ink of thousands of pages into my heart
On one day’s hope that when the most sorrowful blade plunges into my ripe heart
From the wound will run bloodink
And from within me shall pour a fire and brimstone avalanche of words
And with that I will set light to the paper
And let this inkwell of mine
Write darkness upon your heart
As you once wrote love on mine
“Anger is just a cowardly extension of sadness. It’s a lot easier to be angry at...”
– Tom Gates (via kari-shma) (via holga)
Oh Jealousy.
I never thought I would have to be jealous over you It’s not an insulting underestimation, it’s a judgement of your character But lo and behold, a free radical And the flood-gates are opened jealousy, anger, rage, frustration, worry! Oh the worry! I, yes I will name myself the higher morality, I worry for you! Once I took you for granted, and once I lost you Too late was I to...
You're My Best Fiend
our cowardice collides it’s a silent battle rank with apathetic desperation scarcely at a loss for denial don’t stick around folks! our drama knows no days or hours no months, it seems those too have been a miscalculated luxury nor even battles! it seems the age for action has come to a close dear reader, tune in next year and I’ll count the minutes sack sack of a rebuttal, this...
I hate essays.
term papers = bane of my existance
I can't write when I'm happy.
I thought I would have the power to convey my sorrows,
If only I had the chance to look into your eyes,
But I had not anticipated your arresting smile.
To sleep I go now with nothing but your beauty upon my mind’s eye.
Involuntary.
1. Sneezes - I usually sneeze in sets of six. Three on bad days, way too many on sick days. I aim for seven, even though six is my favorite number. Sometimes I have a straggler. I’m not sick, it’s really just how I sneeze. (Side note, if you ever hear my sneeze, for the love of god wait until I’m done to say bless-you, or at least limit yourself to saying it once per sneeze;...
Hope
I’m getting the feeling,
the hoping is not quitting,
and in fact,
might be reflected back.
Perhaps the day will one day come,
when we will shake hands once again.
A Little Bit More
Sometimes the sun shines just right and on those winter days you just can’t help but think summer. Little pieces of progress so when the day is done, you’re left with a sweet aftertaste brimming with excitement for the next. There is a light in my life.
We Are Like The Day and The Night
Like you, sometimes I’m pushed to surreality, a touch of hysteria The madness, like the morning, comes and like the afternoon, goes It smolders in the night like all you can’t see that’s there And in the morning light it explodes in raptures Wishing, like the sun, burns And silently we’re gone
Ungrateful Swine, what have you of the written...
I am always stuck wanting things I do not have, feelings, situations. But to what point and purpose? Should I have it its magic would be lost, I would be desensitized to its glory. I have not yet learned to want what I have and see the desirable feeling that it possesses. Satisfaction, I think, is the word. Perhaps therein lies the glory of writing: it seems not to be a possession first, to...
honesty
this is a dedication to hypocrisy living with false fronts morals of no acceptance life? can not there be an admittance of paradox? the worth of integrity, the true possession the only hope is honesty needs no outlet save for that within say you’re lying
“Or perhaps it is rather that Nature, in her most irrational mood, has traced in...”
– Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s One
Walls
I love taking pictures of people with walls.
