Thursday, December 27, 2012
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
you can't make homes out of human beings
"for women who are 'difficult' to love."
Warsan Shire
you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn't you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can't make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.
Warsan Shire
you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn't you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can't make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.
Monday, May 21, 2012
/// fake european standards
“You're an expatriate. You've lost touch with the soil. You get precious. Fake European standards have ruined you. You drink yourself to death. You become obsessed with sex. You spend all your time talking, not working. You are an expatriate, see? You hang around cafes.”
- Hemingway
- Hemingway
/// SO PERFECT THEY COULD MAKE YOU CRY
"Gratitude"
Barbara Crooker
This week, the news of the world is bleak, another war
grinding on, and all these friends down with cancer,
or worse, a little something long term that they won’t die of
for twenty or thirty miserable years—
And here I live in a house of weathered brick, where a man
with silver hair still thinks I’m beautiful. How many times
have I forgotten to give thanks? The late day sun shines
through the pink wisteria with its green and white leaves
as if it were stained glass, there’s an old cherry tree
that one lucky Sunday bloomed with a rainbow:
cardinals, orioles, goldfinches, blue jays, indigo buntings,
and my garden has tiny lettuces just coming up,
so perfect they could make you cry: Green Towers,
Red Sails, Oak Leaf. For this is May, and the whole world
sings, gleams, as if it were basted in butter, and the air’s
sweet enough to send a diabetic into shock—
And at least today, all the parts of my body are working,
the sky’s clear as a china bowl, leaves murmur their leafy chatter,
finches percolate along. I’m doodling around this page,
know sorrow’s somewhere beyond the horizon, but still, I’m riffing
on the warm air, the wingbeats of my lungs that can take this all in,
flush the heart’s red peony, then send it back without effort or thought.
And the trees breathe in what we exhale, clap their green hands
in gratitude, bend to the sky.
///
There was a time in my life not so long ago, that everything was perfect it could make me cry in a second just remembering it. It could even make me cry then, as it was happening, because I was aware that THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE HAPPIEST I'VE EVER BEEN. And I found myself wishing could you please,
please make this last forever.
And the days, and months, and years pass by gradually and then it's gone, you're no longer there. And a big fear lingers in my heart (always there) that it can never happen again.
But I have to believe and I have to go on and I have to tell myself it is always now and yet to come, because what else is there? You can't live IN a moment.
But today, at least all my body parts are working, and somehow in my heart I still know that there is a place. A place where happiness past, present, future exists. And I just have to go on. It could be perfect again. Please,
please let it happen again.
Barbara Crooker
This week, the news of the world is bleak, another war
grinding on, and all these friends down with cancer,
or worse, a little something long term that they won’t die of
for twenty or thirty miserable years—
And here I live in a house of weathered brick, where a man
with silver hair still thinks I’m beautiful. How many times
have I forgotten to give thanks? The late day sun shines
through the pink wisteria with its green and white leaves
as if it were stained glass, there’s an old cherry tree
that one lucky Sunday bloomed with a rainbow:
cardinals, orioles, goldfinches, blue jays, indigo buntings,
and my garden has tiny lettuces just coming up,
so perfect they could make you cry: Green Towers,
Red Sails, Oak Leaf. For this is May, and the whole world
sings, gleams, as if it were basted in butter, and the air’s
sweet enough to send a diabetic into shock—
And at least today, all the parts of my body are working,
the sky’s clear as a china bowl, leaves murmur their leafy chatter,
finches percolate along. I’m doodling around this page,
know sorrow’s somewhere beyond the horizon, but still, I’m riffing
on the warm air, the wingbeats of my lungs that can take this all in,
flush the heart’s red peony, then send it back without effort or thought.
And the trees breathe in what we exhale, clap their green hands
in gratitude, bend to the sky.
///
There was a time in my life not so long ago, that everything was perfect it could make me cry in a second just remembering it. It could even make me cry then, as it was happening, because I was aware that THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE HAPPIEST I'VE EVER BEEN. And I found myself wishing could you please,
please make this last forever.
And the days, and months, and years pass by gradually and then it's gone, you're no longer there. And a big fear lingers in my heart (always there) that it can never happen again.
But I have to believe and I have to go on and I have to tell myself it is always now and yet to come, because what else is there? You can't live IN a moment.
But today, at least all my body parts are working, and somehow in my heart I still know that there is a place. A place where happiness past, present, future exists. And I just have to go on. It could be perfect again. Please,
please let it happen again.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
/// but that question cant be answered, you will have to find out
Friday, March 23, 2012
Tuesday, March 06, 2012
/// rucola bonanza
I made breakfast for lunch on a dinner plate.
Ham, onion, spiced cheese, tomato omelette with rucola and monsieur croissant.
PS I've been eating rucola nonstop for the past week. It's my new favorite!
Monday, March 05, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
/// the laughing heart
the laughing heart
Charles Bukowski
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
Charles Bukowski
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
Monday, February 13, 2012
/// strindberg
They say something at the beginning, and at the end it’s the total opposite. Emotions are very much like this; they’re not facts.
http://www.sweden.se/eng/Home/Lifestyle/Literature/Reading/Strindberg-king-of-drama/
Monday, January 23, 2012
/// stray girls always fall on their feet
A lovely handmade present from Arrate, sent from the past to the Angel who lives in the future, strung on periwinkle thread and weaved with wishes of friends and love in every corner of the world, a reminder to never forget all the light inside and to keep on loving.
"Lots of love from Bilbo, where as you know, nothing is the same without your eyes to look at it, and laughter to echo around."
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
/// in the beginning
Houd maar goeden moed als het soms eens moeielijk is, dat komt later alles terecht, en niemand kan in het begin doen wat hij wel zou willen.
Be of good heart if things sometimes get difficult, everything will come right later on, and no one can do what he really wants in the beginning.
004
Br. 1990: 004 | CL: 4
From: Vincent van Gogh
To: Theo van Gogh
Date: The Hague, Tuesday, 28 January 1873
/// vincent and theo
"I'm reading a fictional biography of Van Gogh and I realized something: one can fail miserably several times. But one can get back on one's feet again. But in order to do this, one has to have an idea of what one wants and one has to have somebody who believes in you. That's what happened to Van Gogh. His brother Theo always had faith in him."
/// Letter from a friend, March 2009.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
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