I wish I wrote the way I thought
Obsessively
Incessantly
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
Saturday, April 20, 2013
If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for, in detail, ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for.
quote date
If the path before you is clear, you’re probably on someone else’s.
(Joseph Campbell)
As you start to walk out on the way, the way appears.
(Rumi)
Friday, April 19, 2013
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
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
You dared disturb the universe and it has brought you breakfast in bed.
Pancakes are delicious.
— John Rice
Thursday, April 18, 2013
➜ THE LESSER KNOWN PSALMS
Yanick and I have started a tumblr dedicated to the lesser known psalms.
Check it out. Give them some love - they need it, being that they’re apocryphal and all.
It is a time of quiet joy, the sunny morning. When the glittery dew is on the mallow weeds, each leaf holds a jewel which is beautiful if not valuable. This is no time for hurry or for bustle. Thoughts are slow and deep and golden in the morning.
“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 today
Tuesday, 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
All things change; nothing perishes.
Monday, April 15, 2013
sunday brunch is the highlight of my week.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Carys Davies, The Bright Field, 2011
Stack of eight thrown porcelain plates, 20cm diameter, celadon glazes, inscribed with the RS Thomas poem ‘The Bright Field’.
The Bright Field
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
