With maddening hunger
I’d write to the point of suffocation
I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns
Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing
And I’d write about you
A lot more
Than I should
Friday, April 19, 2013
If the path before you is clear, you’re probably on someone else’s.
As you start to walk out on the way, the way appears.
You will sit in the backyard under darkness and snow-heavy branches and smoke fast until your throat is raw, until the ember is so far down it’s burning your knuckles. You will think of nothing but the old couple across the yard, how sometimes at night you’ll see them through the window playing board games by candlelight, one hand free to move the pieces, one hand holding the other’s across the table. You will want this for the rest of your life.
Jonathan Starke, The Unraveling Ties of the Universe
You dared disturb the universe and it has brought you breakfast in bed.
Pancakes are delicious.
“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”
—Kahlil Gibran, from The Prophet (Alfred A. Knopf, 1923)Wednesday, April 17, 2013
this happened todayTuesday, April 16, 2013
What I remember is the amazing light in that place, how it flooded in as if there was no real separation between inside and outside, and everything - what little there was - seemed to be set afloat in it…I saw that same extraordinary light in the early apartments of other friends. Why there? The defiant absence of anything over the windows, I guess. Maybe it was just as simple as that.
Joyce Johnson, Minor Characters
sunday brunch is the highlight of my week.Sunday, April 14, 2013