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2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,April,2004 | 'History' what i wanted: a lot of luck. drunk on the remnants of darkness, i wanted darkness more than i could afford. what i needed: nothing with i in it. i wanted just to be to be without me. falling lower than your hard knee, knowing truly that you had one history, and mine could be free from it. i cry now, i cry now, i don't want to be me. i cry now, because i can't feel without pain but with pain i can't mean anything. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,April,2004 | urlLink This Love - Maroon 5 Lyric what can I say? you steal the day. i can't even see you. the glassiness of your black eyes, the worried look misplaced the question of what you feel if there is not color on your face who are you? walking so quickly, so very tall explaining the rainbow the letimotifs the Rheingold in my heart those German faces the piercing voice of Freya now, i want to kneel, now I want to feel--can't you see it sex appeal can't you see it...it's not that...i wanted the Ring, the gold, the love I WANTED TO CRY my heels were bleading the homonyms were too hard |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,April,2004 | urlLink CBC News:Crowe comes to aid of Montreal school Crowe is my hero. A microelectronics lab. A chip, a circuit, an urban plan, a twork of ar. Levine, Peter. What can I say--dark eyes, i remember, and cool clothes without beyond too trendy. He knew about Bloom--pretty good--i mean Leo. He suggested Tolstoy's What is Art? A few hours after the end of the meeting, he called me at home to ask if I wanted to get together before I leave Sat...ok, i said yes. I'm actually going to see the first scene of the first part of Wagner's The Ring. Well, it's my fate? He is charming in his way, and not perverted (so far, lol.) I need lunch, too...but, i sure won't eat much if I have to listen to that. Lol. Russell Crowe..you are too hot for what you've done. I need to see Gladiator. Listening to Bowie's Changes. Go in Peace, find better peace... Memorize this: Henry James: 'We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art.' |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 28,April,2004 | urlLink anny Matthew's a sweetie...i wish we could meet...but, whatever... And The Tender Heart Prize goes to... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,April,2004 | i took the job with AA and SD is going to train me... so now, i'm going to Europe... for two weeks! first time. i love you Dad. what's new: purple and orange, birds of paradise. love without meaning it. and meaning it more... be free, forget what you're spending, it's over now. just do it. clean up. wrote Marina, Tricia, Birkir, and i have more to go... work hard and play hard...don't feel guilty. i'm close...i'm closer. love u too ER. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 25,April,2004 | so what was he supposed to do? laugh, stop talking, choke? even if he knew he could have made it, he would have stopped right there in front of the slope of the knife. a two inch book of spells with a warning not to put in the hands of children. collect my blood. I suffer because I can. I am not starving so I suffer more. what would life be without pain? at the corner of the street, she sat, her legs spread open, purple chains around her waist. heavy mascara made her eyes inhuman. she didn't know why she was still alive. would I write a whole story? I cannot freely express myself. I must be quiet because if I tell, there will be hell. I’d rather write nonsense than substance. I want so much to be with one person but that's not an occupation. That’s deranged for sure. I want, I want, and whenever I get back down I want it more than ever. It’s like I’m down just to feel that need. It’s desperate and I can't believe in myself anymore. Matt just asked about the spanking case: really January 2004? I’m leaving for NYC on Thursday. Did you know greyhound and train cost the same? Well, greyhound is not as comfortable or is it? And it also is a shorter ride, but what should I do? I wanted to come into grand central, feel the stars riding on my eyes, my body feeling cleaner than it is but Penn station is such a wreck--is it 33rd street that looks like a garbage dump or maybe that's all the streets. lol. So, what do I once I get there, fall into your arms like a little baby? cry like a duck and let myself go. no, ok, here goes: I’m meeting Peter in the McConnell courtyard for lab treats on Wednesday at 2. lol. and Matt wants me to do his hmk ? law school--how can they write in that way without giving everyone a headache? so now, I know what to do. I build myself a truck, make sure the wheels are safe, straighten by back temporarily--can I have more bones there pls--and be good. I’d do anything to be free but that's not being human and I’d do anything to do well, but that's not always possible. I’m chatting in the dark, without air, without fear, without care. i've got to live longer than this, to see something better than this, to see the flower arranging in spring, to collect the Kyoto cherry blossoms in my palm’s heart and know when to stop. I have to live longer than this, to see the real sun hit your real green eyes and make me fall into your daze. I can't breathe because I can't believe: your green eyes. leaf in my heart. heart should be replaced with another word. I need to write to Marina, Ayshe, Birkir I love you!, Tricia, Jieun, Randolph, Mark, Nat for her story, Y with my CV ?, Marina again...., Will yeah right, Tami...?, Colin (sp?), BLOOM!!!!!!!!, I’m sure there are others I can't think of now...why!!!? I’m deaf, blind, I get out and see people it's like being blinded by the sun as you come out of dark room...now I remember: CHRIS...seriously, once I know for sure, i'll write them all...start driving, toastmastering lol, dancing, violin--yeah met Jamie G. and if I work on it I can call him call June to play my violin and he the piano...c'mon you know what you have to do...oh yeah, I want to be part of this world, for G-d's sake, but I think I have to be what I have to be--it's true: English lit. is my calling...it's like IDM is my calling. hoobastank the reason |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 24,April,2004 | i've been _Lost in Translation_ a faun in the dark without even meeting an eye there were words spreading heaven fake mask of lies i've been lost, a feather crime spilled over do not give to children because they see your mind listen Air: _Alone in Kyoto_ Just Like Honey by Jesus & Mary Chain http://www.notkeren.com/HTML/artwork.html |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 18,April,2004 | U of T's campus is beautiful. I must read history as I would a text for clues as to why we have come to this... Concrete for miles and miles, nothing free, nothing natural anymore, no peace, only terror, and anxiety to succeed, loneliness and pain--but most of all the buildings that hurt the land and the heart... Destroying nature's beauty, we destroy our soul. Art must embrace nature, not crush it. Can't read the evil Brothers K, am now reading Middlemarch and was struck by the Zionist theme when I watched the film of Daniel Deronda on Masterpiece Theater's --moved me to believe more strongly in my Jewish soul. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 16,April,2004 | i saw a swan on the water between concrete. her orange beak, her winding neck, her black wide eyes led me to her dark child. what was her secret in loneliness? how could she bear the blue of the lake with its bitterness, the dark water of her pond beside it with a nuclear power plant nearby? she was more human than i but more like a swan ready to fly-- to give us what we need-- a smattering of red on concrete and white wings. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 06,April,2004 | terrible acts of anti-semitism. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 05,April,2004 | No Seder Yes Seder Passover April 5, 2004 this maddening world alive in my heart like a lie i want no part in-- love this world-- a pit inside my flesh cutting away the reason. forget the present. i take my wine, unleavened bread imprinted with the footsteps of Exodus. look at your eyes-- you are from the line of Moses, dreaming of Jerusalem, following the Hebrew, drinking in the light of Eliahu's reason. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 04,April,2004 | read 'The Middle Years' by James: 'We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have,' it read. 'Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art.' 'Her pursuit of the origins of quotations was dogged and often ingenious. In stalking a Henry James phrase she wanted to include in the 15th edition, she considered skimming his entire works, but chanced upon a magazine article about Truman Capote that attributed the lines to 'The Middle Years,' an autobiography of James. She read the entire book and could not find the lines. Then she noticed a little editor's note at the very end, saying James had taken the title from his short story of the same name. She got a complete collection of James's stories and found the quotation on the next to last page. 'We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have,' it read. 'Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art.' Mr. Beck died in 1969. Mrs. Beck is survived by her sister, Catharine Cooper, of Islington, England; her sons Cameron, of Canton, and Gordon, of Larchmont, N.Y.; her daughter, Emily M. Beck, of Larchmont; and three grandchildren. Her helpers on Bartlett's ranged far beyond the academic experts hired by Little, Brown. The organist at her church told her that the correct title of Thomas Grey's poem was 'Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,' not 'Elegy in a Country Churchyard,' as every edition since John Bartlett had claimed. ' from the New York Times: Emily Morison Beck, 88, Who Edited Bartlett’s Quotations, Dies March 31, 2004 By DOUGLAS MARTIN Correction Appended Emily Morison Beck, the self-described literary archaeologist who edited three editions of Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, mining sources from sea chanteys to Shakespeare, died on Sunday at her home in Canton, Mass. She was 88. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 03,April,2004 | urlLink 'The Story Of Our Lives' :: A poem by Mark Strand :: PoetryConnection.net This one is it...with Natalya, before leaving...now i remember corrrectly. I believe in poetry. (My room is clean.) |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 03,April,2004 | urlLink Plagiarist.com Poetry � Archive � Mark Strand � 'The Room' This poem is from Mark Strand's BLIZZARD OF ONE, which won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1999. *************************************** Old Man Leaves Party It was clear when I left the party That though I was over eighty I still had A beautiful body. The moon shone down as it will On moments of deep introspection. The wind held its breath. And look, somebody left a mirror leaning against a tree. Making sure that I was alone, I took off my shirt. The flowers of bear grass nodded their moonwashed heads. I took off my pants and the magpies circled the redwoods. Down in the valley the creaking river was flowing once more. How strange that I should stand in the wilds alone with my body. I know what you are thinking. I was like you once. But now With so much before me, so many emerald trees, and Weed-whitened fields, mountains and lakes, how could I not Be only myself, this dream of flesh, from moment to moment? *************************************** >From BLIZZARD OF ONE by Mark Strand. © 1998 by Mark Strand. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 30,May,2004 | 'stuck on a swing' is my line. so: i'm addicted to getting myself down in some form of writing. i can trace my body in words--for my nipple--pierce, for my palm and fingers--petal with their stamens on a stalk--do i remember the sexual biology of flowers?, for my charm--tulips, roses and the narcissus for my knees and toes. i want to see the clear water of Lake Luzern--it is not a Caribbean blue but a daring blue, striking the vein in my neck--what is that called, a biochip in the lines of my lips--in the striations of my eyes--remember the flowers in the dark. from Sept. 1, 2000: The open door Held by a book... A soul kiss or deep Kiss or French kiss. [When will I have one for you?] |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,May,2004 | urlLink GREEK ART: Venus de Milo i am this Venus that cannot hold a fruit. i am this Venus that turns white for love. I look towards you though i am against you. I find my lips inside you though my breasts are small. Tell me how you can touch me. I'm singing inside you. Tell me how i take you inside the trance of my crazy eyes. I'm interesting to you. 'I like listening to you,' you say. You say I would look good in those Greek clothes. The Venus de Milo is unclothed How does she keep her charm hidden? I could touch her shoulder and make love to myself. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,May,2004 | one God cannot be corrupt: who can he cheat but himself? (as opposed to the Greek G-ds, etc...) woman as the redeemer: Dido Queen of Carthage, at the end of Wagner's ring cycle: fire, throwing body into... aesthetics of literature clouds your judgement: life becomes literary and symbolic. rose byrne the great beauty in the film Troy. the clothes in the movie: i want them. Troy fashion makes woman look divine. have i decided to: publish my Yeats essay, sing in a choir, apply to English lit. grad school, do what it takes to find my passion, write e-mails to family and friends, etc., write poetry, study for the GRE, do a wash laundry, dishes schedule, exercise in the mornings, be chill about work, get that air filter for Adam, become Venus de Milo, stop stalking the stalker, love IDM because i can't help it, stop talking about wolves, see concerts as a student, just go for it, forget about what you're missing, think about having fun at any age, be chill, be cool and still enthusiastic, learn Greek, learn Hebrew, learn how to play the guitar and dance, learn history, review literary history and theory, return to violin and piano, live a little less intensely and more zenly, stop making lists that go on forever, watch cars go by, drive a ferrari, sort through papers once a month on a Sunday, be nice to family, understand insanity without indulging in it, read poetry in order to write it, write short stories and read them. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,May,2004 | ATB 'Hold You' on the swings in a park that doesn't exist, i looked into your eyes and would have started to cry. you must go away. you are. already i feel too much to be safe. why do i fall so hard? 'I don't want to hold you, I don't want to hold you down.' so we didn't get into that new club, Atlantis. you knew it was under water anyway. what do i do to give you who i am? and then if i did, it would hurt more because you're leaving before i find out who i am. i can't deal with this. i just can't deal. we'll go our merry ways now. and i saw you from the seats--Elvis, no you, and i thought i wouldn't be able to take the steps up. 'i walk everywhere,' you said and i would have done anything to invite you in and redeem your pleasure in my room. flowers in the dark--all joy finds its veins in flowers in the dark and dies as they do, in too strong sun. go, be hidden. you will never find me again. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,May,2004 | urlLink Yale University > 2004 Commencement > Baccalaureate Address Richard H. Brodhead, Dean of Yale College Baccalaureate Address Woolsey Hall May 23, 2004 Some Words on Outcomes as You Go Out President Levin and I entered upon our current positions on the same day eleven years ago. At our ten previous baccalaureates, I, an English professor, have read literary passages to graduates as they go forward. For those same ten years, Richard Levin, a professor of Economics, has felt the gnawing pangs of passage envy, aching to escape the rigors of the dismal science for the pleasures of literature. This year, in an academic transvestitism seldom before witnessed, I have magnanimously allowed President Levin to wear the glory robes of poetry. Encourage the boy: didn't he do well? Actually, what I just said was false. Here is the truth. I myself will be going out with the Class of 2004. I too came to Yale College expecting to spend four years; but through a decimal point placement error only recently detected, I instead spent forty. In recognition of my belated departure, President Levin has invited me to give the speech that he usually gives at the Baccalaureate. That is real magnanimity, and I thank him most sincerely. Is there life after Yale? I admit that it's a novel concept. But as with the traces of water recently found on Mars, the signs are newly encouraging. Friends of '04, I note that you are dressed in black. Why the gloom? I suppose I know. You are dressed in mourning for the fact that your revels are all ended, and the life and friendships formed here about to dissolve. Four years ago, when we last gathered in this room, your college years seemed to stretch infinitely far before you. Well, infinity does not last as long as it used to, for here you are already, with only few grains remaining to pass through the hourglass before your college life is done. Or might I guess that for some, your suits of woe bespeak a deeper gloom? At a freshman assembly some years back, I had the experience, like a bad dentist, of jabbing a nerve straight on. On that occasion I told of students who had confided that they thought they has been admitted to Yale by mistake. As I said this, at least eight hundred freshmen gasped as if I had divined their inmost secret. It's thrilling for a speaker to wield such power - so with a sadism unbecoming to a dean, the dentist will venture another probe. As for the robes of gloom: could it be that one or more of you have arrived at the end of your ride here with your future plans still a perfect blank? Might there be some who have plans but know deep down that what you've signed up for is a perfect figleaf, marginally covering and only temporarily postponing exposure of your scandalous nakedness of real life plans? Haunted by this uncertainty, might there be one or more of you who have had twinges of feeling that - as the Yale Precision Marching Band chants to opposing goalies in Ingalls Rink - It's All Your Fault: all Yale's fault for having failed to provide you with a single marketable skill? If students in the room have not yet felt this, there may be some in the upper balconies who have, or will. Some while back I met a woman in Southern California (I name no names) who revealed that she had not one but two Yalie sons who had come back home after graduation to a new life, not quite what she expected, of getting up late, eating bizarre amounts of cereal, and watching reruns on TV; and who, when pressed about what they might want to go out and do, glared the unspoken words: Don't Go There. If anyone in this room resonates to this description, I have a message for you: it's going to be all right. Is it any wonder if the end of college should produce a pause before you find the onward way? For the great majority of you, the end of college marks the end of a far longer stretch (for some it began in the days after birth) in which your life has been defined by the fact that you were in school. Since kindergarten or preschool, school was where you spent the day. School was the answer to the question what you were doing with your life. (Remember the convenience of this? Question: what are you doing with your life? Answer: I'm still in school.) A succession of schools set you your annual tasks and challenges. And school said what came next - more school, of course: after fifth grade, sixth; after high school, college. Now, for the first time, you are about to step out of that structured life into the abyss of the undetermined. No wonder if it's disorienting - what else would it be? But another name for life unstructured in advance is freedom, and other words for the life lived in that territory are independence, maturity, and adulthood. Welcome to them. Will it be beyond your power to orient yourself in that world, find your way in it and make something good of it? In bad moments it may seem so; but think back to your arrival here. When you came ashore at your last terra incognita, you may have felt at a loss, but then something kicked in - some mix of courage, spirit, curiosity, and desire - that helped you go forward to meet this unknown place, engage its challenges, and make it your own. Do I doubt that the same thing will happen again when you leave here? I do not; you've done little these last four years to make me think of you as helpless or resourceless. I saw the mother from California recently, and when I asked about her sons, I learned not only that they had gone on to absorbing and fulfilling things but that she had no recollection of their homebound or deadbeat stage. The early modern philosopher Bacon wrote: ' they are ill discoverers who think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea.' So with you: the solid land of a good life is out there for you, however little you can discern its shape or shores. Courage: the strengths that brought you this far will bring you to it yet. And when you find it, you'll learn that you've carried all kinds of valuable things forward from this place, however little they may be visible as assets now. In recent years there has been much discussion in this country about the need to identify goals and measure outcomes in education. I do not wholly disagree with this mode of thinking as it applies to elementary education. In our world, the cost of allowing young kids to move forward without having mastered fundamental skills is simply too high. But I am much more skeptical about outcomes-based theories as they apply to the kind of education you have received. What we have put you through here has involved some element of marking things to be learned, making you learn them, then measuring to see if you did in fact learn them. But that did not yield what was most worth getting here. One limit of the outcomes concept of education is that it treats acquisitions as fixed that can prove in fact quite transient. Every one of you has mastered complex subject fields sufficiently to display that knowledge on cue on a final exam only to have it begin seeping from your brain soon thereafter. By a conservative estimate, the things members of the Class of 2004 collectively learned in Yale courses that you have already forgotten is probably equal to the sum of human knowledge gained since the early Renaissance. Parents shocked at this statement are welcome to come onstage, where I will subject you to a public quiz on Ohm's law, the Smoot-Hawley Tariff, the workings of the passive subjunctive future tense, or other outcomes you once reached to great applause before relapsing into the contented ignorance of today. Such inevitable forgetting is not a scandal in education because the original act of learning taught something more deeply valuable and left a deeper trace: trained deep habits of mind that survive the specific content that was originally attached to them and can then be put to a different use. When the Duke of Wellington said that the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton, he did not mean, I think, that organized sport consciously or purposely taught the arts of war. He meant that deep skills learned at hazard in one world, that of play - skills like physical courage, working together in teams, coordinating strategies over space and time in a way that requires continual improvisation and revision in face of changing circumstances - these skills turned out, in ways wholly unforeseeable at the time of their acquisition, to serve a second function, equipping a later self to act in a context radically different from the one where the skills were learned. In an office I was given the use of at Duke a few weeks ago someone had posted this saying from Ruskin: 'The highest reward of a person's toil is not what he gets for it, but what he becomes through it.' That comes closer to my own philosophy of education, since to my mind, the real outcome to aspire to is the building of the self - a process that does not lend itself to authoritative measure because it is never over and because its ways are oblique. Whatever we pretended course by course and week by week, what Yale really required was that you use its challenges and resources to develop your latent powers and build the more capable you. If you can't yet say what what you learned here is good for, that's because you are not yet in the place where it will show its value and help. The fruits of the deeper education only reveal themselves in time, as a life's and history's emerging challenges - like the Napoleonic Wars unforeseen in the youth of Wellington - call forth their stores of strength. Could I be more specific about the equipment I see you carrying forward, possibly unbeknownst to yourselves? Men and women of the Class of 2004, you have done a lot of homework. There are 1300 of you and you each took 36 courses running for twelve and one half weeks. Equipped with these facts, I tried to estimate how many books you have collectively read, papers and lab reports you have written, and problem sets you have worked, but my brain got tired before I got the answer. I congratulate you on your colossal diligence, but now that it's behind you, it might be safe to reveal a secret. The point of all that homework was not for you to complete it, but rather, through this exercise, to develop powers that can only show their value when the days of assigned work are past. In my life I've met people who seemed absolutely to have stopped thinking at a certain point, and to be living on a stock of frozen opinions as limited and antiquated as their aging wardrobes. I cannot promise that this will not happen to you, but I pray that it won't, and if you escape this fate, the work you did here will have helped protect you against it. With luck, years of artificial school exercises will have developed an instinctive drive to keep identifying and assimilating new sources of information and subjecting them analysis and synthesis - dispositions now sufficiently rooted in your nature that they can carry on without external or institutional support. So internalized, the habits that made you a good student in early life can begin to make you something more interesting and more important: an ongoing student of your world and a constructive contributor to its needs. At Yale academic education never takes place by itself, however, but in energizing interaction with a certain social environment. We've provided you with a thousand classmates, like you in skill and thoughtfulness but bizarrely various in their origins, outlooks, commitments and beliefs, to live with in intimate community and daily exchange. It's my profound hope that the form of sociability you have become accustomed these last four years will prove habit-forming as well, and that you will seek and recreate this sociability on your own when an institution ceases to provide it for you. As you know, the Brown v. Board of Education decision ending court-legitimated school segregation was handed down fifty years ago this week. But for all the changes it has made, this country is far from having solved the problems of social separation and inequality. It will be for your generation to make progress on these fronts, unless, which God forbid, you fail to make that progress. The role of the well educated here is not altogether reassuring, since as much as any group, the well educated have tended to live and work in enclaves with those who are comparably privileged. Hard to see how that isolation will be of much help with problems of which, nevertheless, all will suffer the consequences. But perhaps the battle for an inclusive society of equal rights and mutual respect will turn out to have been won - or if not won, in some measure advanced - on the intramural playing fields of Yale or in the rooms of Vanderbilt or Bingham or the dining halls of Silliman or TD, scenes of interactions and understandings won across social divides. I have always regarded the intellectual cost of separationism to be as great in its way as its social cost. In this country, those who have stopped thinking are typically those who have stopped interacting with people who might make them think - people, namely, who do not already think more or less the same as they do. With luck you will seek the educating differences others shun, without necessarily remembering where you formed that taste. Last let me say a word about the idea of service. A loveable feature of this school is its culture of other-directedness, the generosity with which you regard your gifts as existing not for yourself alone, but also for the good of others. I've seen you, unknown to your teachers and for no conceivable credit, working with neighborhood kids in sports camps, or giving music or health lessons or making science cool in local schools; I know of your efforts in this and other countries on behalf of the sick, the poor, the uneducated and the displaced; I know what you have done within these walls to make this community's life more interesting and more rewarding. When college's somewhat artificial world of organized activity dissolves behind you, as it will, I trust it will leave a seed in place for future growth, the habit of using your intelligence to enrich the lives of others. Numbers of you will go to work in teaching, in community health, in environmental causes, and in government service, and I praise you, but those are not the only ways this start could be extended. The world needs every known profession (well, almost every); and in every profession there is a way of practicing that is small-minded and self-serving and another that serves the larger good. Whatever you do, I look to you to make that difference: the best legacy you could take from Yale. Men and Women of the Class of 2004, you leave here for the valley of uncertainty also known as life. If that brings anxiety, it also brings opportunity, the chance to make a life - and you will. A poet in your class whose words I prophesy you will soon be hearing - David Goren, Trumbull '04 - has written these lines, spoken as to a graduating senior by a soon-to-be-former beloved named Ivy: I confess, I've grown attached to you - But now we both have other walls to climb. Growing is something you'll be doing As long as you live, and you should learn to do it elsewhere than the paradise I made for you, imperfect as it was. He's right. You came here, you saw, and you overcame. You grew into this place, you grew up here, and you grew strong here. Now it's time to break its bounds to win room to grow some more. If Yale wanted anything for you, it was to nourish and confirm your will to grow, growth that will continue though we must leave, now, to allow it to continue. Do you understand me? I think you do. All right then: Let's get out of here. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,May,2004 | 'The Appassionata is most beautiful and Peter and Wolf comes on Wagner's CD' Talk to me before you go to San Francisco... you stood there-- inconspicuous at first, in your slim shape, tall legs, thin back against the marble wall, while i glided by, searching. you saw me with your sharpness before i could see you. the position of Peter and the wolf made me turn. oh now, the wolf could be at my door, but i've fallen in love with you for lack of a better hole in which to bury my dying eyes. your light colored eyes, always young-- children have those eyes to entice teachers. i sat with you, dumb, plucking grass, wanting you to say--it's with you, i'm with you. all true things disappear-- rats into that dark city. against the marble wall, Venus de Milo melts Wagner's ring. this secret, no one should read: that cleaning the Louvre's floors for a few francs or sleeping not at all in hotel jail cells, i sang, each moment, for Peter and his wolf. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,May,2004 | Toxic by BS This poem is dedicated to you: Pierce May 12th, 2004 at the club: Pravda, Luzern, Pierce: tight black shirt, jeans, two friends: one named Stefan or Sylvan? blond straight hair, dark green eyes, a bit tanned, an 8 pack, i swear, arms so hard and strong--Tarzan, anyone? MBA graduate--job interview the morning before the party. ok: here i go Pierce. i should have whispered in your ear: 'tell me what you want me to do, i'd do anything.' we moved together, the pressure greater than the breath of swan wings, your hands on my waist felt like mountains. i pressed my neck to your lips and didn't draw away until you had left the mark. swans' necks craning for love, craning for the shining forests in your eyes-- i cannot forget you, but you left me as i was starting to be afraid of what i felt. what can i do but remember your kisses as you held my cheek towards you, taking my mouth into yours? it was so hard then to be in my body that i forgot my name. i was dirty, you were clean. i had to leave. i should have whispered: 'i'd do anything...' dirty swan cleaning my nails, Medusa, severed at the neck by her prince Perseus: oh--your victory--i would have let you do anything in that green daze. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,May,2004 | you stood there-- inconspicuous is the only word for your slim shape, tall legs, thin back against a marble wall, while i glided by. you saw me with your sharpness, hardness, before i saw you. the position of Peter and the wolf made me turn. oh now, the wolf could be at my door, but i've fallen in love with you for lack of a better hole in which to bury my dying eyes. your light colored eyes, always young-- children have those eyes to entice teachers. i sat with you, dumb, plucking grass, wanting you to say--it's with you, i'm with you. all true things disappear-- rats into that dark city. against the marble wall, Venus de Milo is shattered by Wagner's gun. this secret, no one should read: cleaning the Louvre's floors for a few bucks and sleeping not at all in hotel jail cells, i sang for Peter and his wolf. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,May,2004 | you stood there-- inconspicuous is the only word for your slim shape, tall legs, thin back against a marble wall, while i glided by. you saw me with your sharpness, hardness, before i saw you. the position of Peter and the wolf made me turn. oh now, the wolf could be at my door, but i've fallen in love with you for lack of a better hole in which to bury my dying eyes. your light colored eyes, always young-- children have those eyes to entice teachers. i sit their dumb, plucking grass, wanting you to say--it's with you i'm with you, but you're leaving in a few days--ok, maybe weeks. all true things disappear-- rats into that dark city or mice into that dark city. still, the sun shines in its center as it could never shine on you and me: Peter Peter and the wolf, the wolf. this secret, no one should read. against the marble wall, Venus de Milo is shattered by Wagner's gun. cleaning the Louvre's floors for a few bucks and sleeping not at all in hotel jail cells, i sang for Peter and his wolf. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,May,2004 | you beat my brain out: i was your common whore-- a thin line between a dirty rope and my arm. what could i do but beg you to continue? if i had stoppped you, you would have left me, you would have taken love away from here. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,May,2004 | i've made up my mind to know without your eyes inside my palms upon waking, to live upon a poem--fast and thick, stinking of marshmallows and softener. oh, the white taste, the alien couch, the expensive scotch, and the questions i cannot answer because they are so simple that i think too much about them: escape from them. we would recite Rilke in the dark, crying over life. i would say: 'oh, i thought you'd need me, but i cannot live without you.' [now, in losing my spirit, i can listen for money.] still, a dragonfly dancing over a rainbow pond, a miracle in this world, saffron and cardamom, cinnamon and myrrh, in a gilded church with windows as big as cradles and candles of burning fingernails, begs me to believe you. i meet you inside a book: its pages rustle, crumble, and turn. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,May,2004 | Dearest Natalya: I miss you more than ever. Each day, I listen to conversations about money and deals and contracts and money, then scotch whiskey on Fridays and weekends of parties in which rich lawyers who work 24 hour days play golf or eat lobsters flown in from Nova Scotia and think about nothing at all because they can't any more. How are you? Please tell me when you can. I hope you are taking some rest. It was so good to see you and talk to you again. I loved meeting your whole family and wish i could have chatted with them... For some reason, I am not receiving any more poems from Knopf. I'll have to ask them about that... As for music, I've come to the conclusion that The Beatles rock the whole world. ;) Here's a stupid poem I wrote just now...impulsively, i'm sending it to you. Most of it doesn't make sense (bad excuse: because i listen to 'sensible negotiations' each day): 'it's as if... no, like... no, as if, i never sent you anything-- no record of a breaking spoon, orange balloon in your mail, darling. i've locked you up, retrained my brain to see without your eyes inside my palms upon waking. can you live on a poem? a fast thick poem that stinks of marshmallows and softener. oh the white taste, the alien couch, the expensive scotch, the justice league and the questions i cannot answer because they are so simple that i think too much about them. reciting Rilke in the dark, crying over that life with you. i'd say: 'oh, i thought you'd need me but i cannot live without you.' in losing my spirit, i eat money and deals, mergers and wheels and my poetry, never good, now hurts to read. they say: 'greed.' watching a dragonfly dancing over your rainbow pond, a miracle in this world, saffron and cardamom, cinnamon and myrrh, in a new church with windows as big as cradles and candles of burning fingernails, i've caught you inside this book. the pages rustle, crumble and turn.' I'm coming slowly back to creation and will read your stories soon without pain... Sending you all the best. Love and Hugs, Anny. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,May,2004 | urlLink Delerium - Run For It Lyrics i'll marry a guy named Cedric Saba. as i walked home, i could have been thin. i could be thin as your thought is, and your violin without strings. a Latin paper thin diploma with an off-white seal. i'd love to see your underbelly if you're wearing underwear, let it be good and strong. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 19,May,2004 | i live on chocolate as a fairy. they say darker is best. i few days ago, i dreamt about my Armenian piano teacher. he kissed me before i gave my best performance. on the forehead where the star awaits me, i want him. can i believe in anything beautiful without feeling pain? i have no art in me, secrecy and sex is my only territory. i can give you love. that's all you need, right? Medusa's way on a Florentine grave, Perseus a great, grand criminal, i'd conquer. i'll have to stay awake to fuck you, i'll have to wear my skin. how do i begin to give you what they want if they don't know what i can give? i sell the apples without the seed, the sunset without the fire, the water without the peace. can you come near me, stop talking about money, let me touch you there? your code of ethics, your grand religion, your tight belt keep you good. i wanted to release freedom, the way the light hits me, the way i'll never mean love. i would eat the cherries in Kyoto as the sun traps my silence in the fur of your tongue. your kiss was clean so that i felt in my body and that it had one soul. swan neck, dirty neck, clean bathroom, clean word, i'll leave you by the lake, with the clearness left in it, a cutting blond arm. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 18,May,2004 | today was a better day at work. the chair makes me sit up straighter. AA keeps saying: when you'll be in law school... he does smile as hope itself would. for lunch, Peter and I sat on the main campus and felt the sun and then the shade. he showed me his playbills from Wagner at the Met in NYC two weeks ago, and he hardly ate all... he asked for a kiss but it was just a kiss. lol. want another? hah. i love hugs more than anything... hold me close Pierce, hold me. don't you ever think about me? of course not, i'm just one out of the others... anyway, Peter explained the ring--the Engineering ring that is, its roughness cuts into gold, be more Mary because you are Martha, since 1910 when the bridge collapsed in B.C., asked Kipling to write poetry for the special grad with anvils and chains...sounds beautiful in a stange way, no wonder he likes the Ring series--he also saw Placido Domingo in it! so, here i am... my head is empty. if I see you tomorrow, will i melt? will it cause me pain... i killed an ant hole--Peter told me to stop... i wish i could crush the ant and eat it. i wish i could feel something deeper or go back to the swan's necks... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 18,May,2004 | www.pravda.ch we went into the sliding. the boat pulled over. i had a B52 for free and my coat was taken in for free. i was wearing a slinky light pink and black protector pants. so, let me start by saying that the stairs were as clean as the bathroom shiny sink. i've never seen anything so clean. oh Luzern...do you know what you mean? sex bomb, you're my sex bomb. would i have to tell you the mark on my neck was a gift--and you looked so embarrassed for giving it? toxic. i had a story in my head, a guy in my bed. i should have gone home with you angel, Israeli German army guy. as hard as hell, as hellish as love. do you know--Pierce--if you are real, my smile was weak for you. my head is empty. i had too much to drink, too little to sleep, my body is broken down now, fat as hell--when before i was 'hot'--oh is that what you felt as you held me too close for breathing, too close--and took my face in your palm to kiss me oh when your lips pressed against my neck, I pressed my neck to them--i knew it all, i knew how that bruise would be the only thing left of you and now it's gone. oh G-d. i'll never stop dreaming. why should i? you didn't want me? but, why shouldn't i still think...? Pravda, May 12, 2004, luzern, mountain air, swans--the neck of love. Here goes the Florence deed: May 11, 2004 Florence Dear David He split my lips With the salt of His fingers and My tongue could Not forgive. With his hard thigh, He lifted me to his Face--I will not Know the true color Of his eyes, only The coffee taste Of his embrace. David's hardness Pressed on my thigh, David's fingers Finding the inside Of our charm. He spoke English As Florence warms You, but they had to Take me away from Him so that I could Wake in this age. Now, my lips split Over marble And our charm Must find a ring If I am to speak again. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 27,June,2004 | urlLink Independent News slapping against the window: these Venetian blinds. older than you, younger than your fire. wind: stop your fighting. illuminated Blake inside the Marriage of Heaven and Hell. in this music that moves me, i keep all my feelings safe. mouhaha, my master plan is working... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,June,2004 | in tight black pants two black guys in the car stopped to check me out... it's the walk of shame Anastasia Outside Alone |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 25,June,2004 | Tazmanian Devil 107 years old grandmother Tazmanian Fairtytale in a coffee shop yesterday Winterson's Sexing the Cherry: the Greeks wrote invisibly in milk between the lines of their letters so you could find their secrets with coal...rearranged room purple sheets the red thread mediation remediation fin again and again nail polish remover with vitamin E flowers teen spirit take a flower out to lunch, giving you a lift no no and yes. Judaism is a false religion: go away or get crucified. stop saying i love you. scotch and marmalade. i had the 6 dollars strawberries in a special glass... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 22,June,2004 | urlLink Tannh�user: Synopsis the open tingle longest last look up into walk over mist pray GBYPandAllMyPeople |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 21,June,2004 | They came to one house to dance on light feet and kiss with fingers and lips and fall in love as in a dream. But she who knew more than evil can know cursed them all except one. She, Goddess of Hurt, made them cruel and their faces full of ugliness so that she could keep One dearer than death, her Beauty as bitter as false wine. To drink of her, he did but one night. Then Dionysius, then, only Dionysius could be hers, writhing on her white scarred throne. ******** Gabriel Garcia Marquez' Tortured Human Angel and Tolstoy's Angel of Death... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 20,June,2004 | A Tongue - to tell Him I am true! Its fee - to be of Gold - Had Nature - in Her monstrous House A single Ragged Child - To earn a Mine - would run That Interdicted Way, And tell Him - Charge thee speak it plain - That so far - Truth is True? And answer What I do - Beginning with the Day That Night - begun - Nay - Midnight - 'twas - Since Midnight - happened - say - If once more - Pardon - Boy - The Magnitude thou may Enlarge my Message - If too vast Another Lad - help thee - Thy Pay - in Diamonds - be - And His - in solid Gold - Say Rubies - if He hesitate - My Message - must be told - Say - last I said - was This - That when the Hills - come down - And hold no higher than the Plain - My Bond - have just begun - And when the Heavens - disband - And Deity conclude - Then - look for me. Be sure you say - Least Figure - on the Road - c. 1862 |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 20,June,2004 | Heart 'Crazy' The Killers 'Somebody told me [you have a boyfriend that looks like a girlfriend]' At the party: enough children to make any female cry. Get me out of here. On the way there, saw BenM in his green RangerRover doing the dictionary with his fake idol smile and perfect Hollywood tan. More so: get me out of here. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 20,June,2004 | She met him over meat: five pounds more than she could eat. He came to her because he could not believe a woman could order so much meat. And when he saw her, so petite, he yearned to find where she had hid her meat. He met her every day he could to convince her he was more than good. And when he kneeled to ask her hand, he promised he'd give her the finest lamb. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 15,June,2004 | chamomile and lemon glass cardamom to let him pass over islands made in black language down and face on back chamomile and cinnamon falling stone and failing man walking heart into the hand cutting glass and holding hand skating glass and balance lost chamomile and lemon grass |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 15,June,2004 | Honey holds the wounds. Flowers copy the grave. A scratch of a scar on the right cheek. Now, a slightly red raised scar from the top of my forehead down to my left cheek. The mark of the devil, of a bird of prey that has no heart to give. A voice so cold--so stone-filled--that it forces your spirit to fall. An open grave, the land a man needs, the land a woman makes and tries to save. Six feet to the top of the tower that will always fall on me in my memory, into my wound, into my flower and through my life. The white wine was as beautiful as your blue eyes... Tolstoy's what a man needs for life... The Shin: outside, inside, on the threshold, secular and religious meet. Con=Com= for and against. confusion. I will be that sheep, that Prophet Nathan described to the sinner King David, that sheep that you could not part with. Bathsheba naked at the bath. The tenth leads to all the rest. Do not want what others have.... To murder, adultery, stealing. The way to Sof ia end Da Vinci Code end ia the home the nostos return Ulysses Ulysses fin Goodbye |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 15,June,2004 | it was natural the way the eyes swept onto those flowers that smell strongest at night, purple in between the white frills to make the front look nice. in the mirror swept with Victorian haze--almost the color of mercury fazing into lead, you could see a black figure that had shrunken into a skeleton. bones branched out of the figure and a yellow hue on the face of it made the color of the bluish sky paler. it had ended up being cooler as the land laid itself into evening. it was almost the Solstice, coming to almost the heavy rain of a barren word that leads into limp suicides. of course, it didn't matter. of course, if they asked you what you felt, you would say, i'm stuck in a city that i never liked the first place. there's nowhere to go but around and around and around and back to the end. if as cool as nature it is, as cool as nature it was. a heavy lidded eye forgotten by the sun, a word that enervated its followers, an option to leave the incinerator on, a closing of a wor(l)d: _The Sun Also Rises_ would have been his. what a bloody birthday. sickening now, i'll need to burn it. Jake, the main character, lost his dick in the war. this is the end: 'Oh, Jake,' Brett said, 'we could have had such a damned good time together.' Ahead was a mounted policeman in khaki directing traffic. He raised his baton. The car slowed suddenly pressing Brett against me. 'Yes,' I said, 'Isn't it pretty to think so?' THE END. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 13,June,2004 | filomena is the girl i want to be with. the dangling article or whatever grammatical error you want to call it. two people have me on their death list already (okay, just one, phew.) it's all in preparation for good times. waterfall. it's easy to like drowning in it. ani ohevet PL. simple. for Christ's sake. i'd do anything, cut off my feet. fuck, hell, and the Virgin. on the way home, i got blisters, walking in summer rain with that smell that makes crying easier. if i were that girl with ART is three letter word on her papers, i'd be perfect, at Harvard, doing the double digits, eyes sparkling for believers. you know you wanted it...that...her face through her brain in the mirror. perfect. perfect. a 100 blisters where my soles used to be. nautical disaster. am i on drugs or should i be? i need to go to work tomorrow, fuck, and actually do something. at the party i just wanted to open N and A and see their shadows floating...also the other A...that black dress with flowers so perfect. I love you NS, girl. do you know that? why do i never read your stories, thesis, or write you in time? i suck. garbage...medication...garbage. sweeping the dust with my shirt off all my life. that's my job, G-d. take me to Mishima for his lesson. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 12,June,2004 | urlLink Lake Luzern by Turner, 1842. My dream. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 11,June,2004 | urlLink Turner watercolorist sublime - Tour of Switzerland Hello from Lucerne. I wanted that peace to happen. Be something. Every day, i want to hurt myself, to burn, cut, stab, smoke, go out and sell my body. Every day, I hear how I fail. How can I go on? Lucerne. There was something about the way you held me: I knew I could never be wrong again. Lucerne. I'm going back because if I can't: where will I go? It's me trying to walk on your water and feel my soul wet with passion, with ideals, with action. I need to do, not to be. Even if it hurts me. Please. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 11,June,2004 | it's natural not to care. a lizard would care more. it is the word that takes me in its arms. i should be mopping the floor with my knees. i gave you this heart to wear. and now i'm going to sleep complete and fully fooled. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 11,June,2004 | Knafayim Shvurot what are those round lights going by your sunken cheek? i could get no feeling. i could get no. i lost all my papers. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 09,June,2004 | i went to the bar upstairs this evening. the sign is backwards. it's a basement bar. i've tried to run miles. the trees fall over and life is a skirt in open ivory. just nonsense means something. it was sunday morning when she came out to water herselves. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 07,June,2004 | Paranoia and the Sexless Goldfish: Hey Peter, I'm about to leave home forever. Tell me if you still want to show me Eden. Mamma's never going to be sorry. I've written a couple of pieces on you for the local paper, but they all seemed to be disparaging: the editor wants to know why you dissimulate while holding others to an impossible standard of honesty. I've been advised not to send this. I thought you were being paranoid as you asked me to take myself off the news, but now I know it was just your favorite technique to get me started... Hope you're having a great time with Wanda. Don't worry if the goldfish want to eat you. They can't without my poison in their gills. But, i'm coming soon to help them. Grin. Have you heard...? You'll have to do the zigzag run from the Indian rhinoceros. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 06,June,2004 | you can go fuck yourself, as so many of your friends have done. i get nothing from you except hell. the computer screen crashing over my wrist, can't you fucking give it a rest? oh honey, you're so hot, in the throes of passion you lied like a lizard ready for gutting. you're going to get hell from me. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 05,June,2004 | urlLink Maxine and I in the Haufsbrau, May 2004. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 05,June,2004 | you called me by the morning rain, a right animal without road killing, eating the leaves from your land. nothing laughs harder than love, a fistful of containment and promise. in your genius, you miscalculated your spending allowance, and started too many love renewals. i'd be here for you as a butterfly for its cocaine, watching the blue moon eat the sunrise into eternity. honey, you talk as if you know more than i do about lying, but this time, i want to open before dying to some man like you. tomorrow, i'll walk to work, or exercise, work as an angel does, feel the love if there is any there my dear, have a smoke into oblivion, clean my room, make preparations to leave forever. if i could love you, i would. i've said so many things to make you walk away. you're holding on because you can't lose in this affair. must i be so cynical? maybe your heart is true. only you could know. and what you don't tell me is nothing at all. be clean, be free, talk little, do much. and since you are wanting me, i have to still be as good as you think i am. i'm into the highest risk investment. look good, be there. i need to make extra money and be a stripper. is that so bad? i'll need to exercise a bit more. yeah, you go girl. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 05,June,2004 | urlLink 'To Say Before Going To Sleep' :: A poem by Rainer Maria Rilke :: PoetryConnection.net To Say Before Going to Sleep by Rilke I would like to sing someone to sleep, have someone to sit by and be with. I would like to cradle you and softly sing, be your companion while you sleep or wake. I would like to be the only person in the house who knew: the night outside was cold. And would like to listen to you and outside to the world and to the woods. The clocks are striking, calling to each other, and one can see right to the edge of time. Outside the house a strange man is afoot and a strange dog barks, wakened from his sleep. Beyond that there is silence. My eyes rest upon your face wide-open; and they hold you gently, letting you go when something in the dark begins to move. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 05,June,2004 | what can you do to control your illness? a shot of vodka, and again. i'm out of words for pain. let me go back to Rilke and curl into his lap. if i wake up tomorrow, i won't know what to do. i have such a pain in my center that i'd cut it out if i could. the spaces here are so grand that i feel suffocated. i want one room--one room of peace. i must pace inside this room to lose the dirt of my back, center and lips. fuck you to hell. fuck you. i can't believe i ever thought i could get off sleeping with you. 'in this silence'--Sarah McLachlan and Delerium's 'Silence' 'Give me release, witness me: I am outside, give me peace. Heaven holds a sense of wonder and I wanted to believe that I'd get caught up when the rage in me subsides. Passion choke the flower 'til she cries no more possessing all the beauty, hungry still for more. Heaven holds a sense of wonder... and I wanted to believe that I'd get caught up when the rage in me subsides. In this white wave, I am sinking, in this silence, in this white wave, in this silence I believe. I can't help this longing: comfort me. I can't hold it all in if you won't let me. Heaven holds a sense of wonder... In this white wave, I am sinking, in this silence, in this white wave, in this silence I believe. I have seen you in this white wave: you are silent, you are breathing in this white wave I am free. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 05,June,2004 | where did you get your body? i got it at a store. where did you learn how to do that? don't forget: i'm a whore. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 05,June,2004 | George Michael 'Father Figure' in my dream, we had daddy going out of his mind, pulling out knives left and right. on wednesday night, after i spoke with you, i woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare about being Clarisse in the Hannibal movies. this is a bad omen as bad as the dog eating the sweet bird. no, let that latter not be, but having nightmares after spending time means that you are not right for me. or what is it? what am i so scared of? the knife almost plunging into me. you're hot but i can find hotter. yeah, and you broke your stick playing hockey in the finals. well, looks like you have after all. 'but sometimes love can be mistaken for a crime.' |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 05,June,2004 | urlLink Rilke: New Poems before going to sleep by Rilke... i live for the last arcs of Christmas, despair in the word of my mother's left eye. one day, the snow will cover the sword, cut the blue fingers who touch what they cannot feel. oh, how i held you without thinking about love and then, when the next dawn came, love had evaporated into the soft mist of the Roman poplars. i remember his travels as if they were mine and i could only show you myself through my body for i am nothing without it. do not linger on the absurdity of this world, on the cruelty of feeling. reach into the moss where the earth lies and blacken your fingernails to scratch the pure marble of perceived perfection. he is nothing without it and you must destroy it with black strong veins. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 05,June,2004 | shoes in the hall, black blisters to the right, i could have taken you for food, as strawberries dipped in wine. your caffeine-free green tea, your perfect library of books and CDs, the neatness of your desk, floor and bed, the view from inside your heart. if i had a body, i would give it to you. fast beginning fast ending. but, as you rationalized--we've known each other for one month already. i see you standing, taut, on the edge of how, your light brown eyes inside your open palms. i have knelt down to wash your feet, as if the demons had left me, and i would take your eyes into mine in perfect symmetry of passion and pain if i knew that i had nothing to fear but death. in your hand, i could have found relief from the tears of Brahms' chords, the tenderness of fingers of the world inside a sound of God. silence is free and your words are as true as rose petals strewn over the sidewalk cracks awaiting the warm white rain. Concert Gala Vendredi 4 Juin Brahms' Concerto no 2 en si bemol majeur, opus 83--if you hear the Andante, you will walk with feet steeled for flight above the family of your dreams inside the kiss of life. (Sergei Salov played--he won the Concours Musical International de Montreal) Peter also loved Jacques Hetu's 'Impromptu pour piano, opus 70 and Ravel's Alborada del Gracioso. i also loved Prokofiev's Concerto no. 3 in do major, opus 26. 'where did you get this body?' you asked me at least twice. inside your dreams. the smooth body of cupid is yours. paint us here, before the dance falls. troglodyte vituperate sybaritic you played the first act of Wagner's Parsifal--the CD with Peter and the Wolf. oh, your body was a marble statue of naked Cupid. you told me: 'you are so beautiful.' but, love cannot be? why am i so sad? you are leaving--will i ever see you again, the way you said i would...? i can't count on it. no matter what, you will be dear to me always. you said: my one wish is to 'have a family' and you asked me to live with you over the summer...even to marry you, lol. of course, our last contract was to 'go with the flow.' the feeling i have of tears during Brahms' andante. it will pass like a kite through the leaves, barely touching their veins. if you have more time to think, you will think against me--though my whole soul is for you as an angel emerging out of the tulip's purple petals into violent dusk. i cannot have but true feeling for you. your warm skin and statuesque form remind me that Casanova's figures can be given life. Galatea lived once, too. G-d Bless you all. mother working in the garden with a smile on her face...the birds chirping at 4 a.m. have a place in this too. xox to you, Peter. of course, your reply contains no such xox. the joke's on me. cruelty is in everyone, a burning desire to vanquish the one who holds your heart. you have exercised your right, as a tiger would, extinct in your precision, wise in your decision to shut me out. why not be prudent with a fat girl like me? fuck you, too, honey, and take your stupid dick elsewhere. have a nice life. i have the honey ingrained in my leaves, a moment of hell needed to deceive, a heart through a wire festering on a spear of hope. you have the cleanest cuts, the words protected from pain, the olive skin for the desert sun. what have i done? given myself away as a drummer crashes his drum, washed your feet as a sinner washes those of Sin. bitter, my blisters multiplying in the growing heat, i walk away from the idea of you, almost protected now from further surprise, feeling sick enough to kill what little love i have left. i should have struck you instead of kissed you, and in the dark, taken your soul to cast into the flames. what have i now but regrets? what have i now but the certainty of further pain? |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 01,June,2004 | When am i going to be in your choir, singing your songs? should you know you called me twice on Sunday because I asked if you were OK?--a 3 in the morning walk Sunday is the fairest and noblest of choices, your pinky engineering ring shining all the way home to Lorne Crescent...if that's not love hah oh, what would you say, you e-mailed me the social Affair...Will i read it...Speed reading is in the vicinity...i'm in law up to twice my depth...i need to work twice as many hours to finish all this stuff, i won't get into it. you're still doing the sedating scene sucker. anyway, i call you back tonight (i was at toasty's when you called) and you're not there, i guess: should i say that i feel terribly ill thinking where you might be? did you run to angela? that's what i mean. or pamela? it's getting out of hand. i'm fine if i don't touch you dude...or have to actually see you again. self-fulfilling prophecy of pain, get ye gone! (yeah, so now i see you for dinner--you won't give me your lab number!-to celebrate your residence acceptance with Mr. Kissinger on the board, HELLo and then a stupid concert...somebody give me a new body with new clothes!) so you sent me stuff, i was just thinking about sending you Billy Budd or more to the point, a short story, Bartelby the Scrivener...then we're even....the angels are screaming: fight me! and it's sad how many people are counting on me for a reply: natalya, kim, birkir, contiki bunch, chris, etc... ok, i feel like i'm getting ahead of myself here. you breed lies like gadflies. the blood punches through. Lorca's poems of the deep song. Melville's Bartelby the Scrivener. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 30,June,2004 | are you an idiot or what?! |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink That's what a bra is for. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink Firenze: before Enrico, there was Enrica... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink i thought they gave you a pill for this... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink We have D. by the balls... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink Munich....i love you, Maxine. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink Kim and I in that courtyard...May 2004. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink going down 120 on top of some mountain near Luzern |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink How Long Can You Go Without Food? - Hunger strikes 101. By Brendan�I.�Koerner eat salt |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | sheba cut the inside of her throat with her fingernails. ata killed the plant with overwatering. thin addictives were lying around as waste management. not enough sharpness in the serrated knife. the make-up covered the whole eye, even the pupil. ata was overpowered by a cat. hospitals exist for broken down elephants. sheba was wondering what she existed for. cousin shusha was coming by train to rip the marriage dress. shoes had no heels and cover your bare ass, girl. don't you have somewhere to put that in?! trojans should be hidden inside the ears of my little furry friend. thanks for the cookies: they were fantastic, delicious and just a tiny bit mean in their perfect strangled plastic wrappers that crackled as they flared and fought and chopped down the throat. but who can eat anymore with the whole throat ripped up? tomorrow to work as a dog to the kennel--blood red maple leafs on both knees. down Dog, down. coffee and tulips in hedges heal the cuticles. MAC all the way, baby...ALL the Way. to quote Shakespearenenenen: 'if you don't stop eating, you won't fit in any of your dresses.' how to find out if someone's a witch? kindle the fire of desire and then eat a fat roasted pig. 'Somebody told me that you had a boyfriend who looked like a girlfriend that I dated in February of last year...' (thanks Killers.) 'A, A' what? 'thank you...' |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink Take patient�s blood, add oxygen, zap it with light, warm it and put it back, great for heart patients |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | urlLink National Post |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 29,June,2004 | 'dear Sidewalk...with all your crevices, your beautiful eyes... i love you b/c you're concrete and not abstract.' (or something like that) O-zone or out of Romania or something like that. little bird/worm your imagination the Solomon technique rain in a rust gold darkened sky the back into joy... 'missed you the whole day; i should have aimed better.' (or something like that) at night, William Tell in you veins. (yesterday, as i walked to the hill top of the tree-encircled elementary school to vote Liberal, i almost picked a blossom from a linden tree: yes...the scent of the darling: 'Dragostea din tei') French: Chevrefeuille... yodel until i sound as the older man did in the rain: 'badarararababa'...nuts... translate a bit: 'but you should know i don't ask anything from you.' sounds 100 times better in Romanian. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 28,June,2004 | Harvard University Press/The Bible As It Was/James Kugel/Preface: urlLink Harvard University Press/The Bible As It Was/James Kugel/Preface Remember Lot's wife: Whoever seeks to gain his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will preserve it. --Luke 17:32-33 |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 27,June,2004 | this could be the cause! and paint them coral: looks great with a tan! and go fuck yourself, feels great when you're alone. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 27,June,2004 | 'to keep from falling...shoes...here burning...' On the day she found out he was really a girl, she decided not to cry. It was raining in the sunshine outside on a Sunday. She walked the streets in search of a cheap predictably sexy dress for a wedding she might not attend. Micki--that name he had used over and over again, his dear friend. Well, had she ever been given the chance to see his translucence, his vibrations and defiance? No--his name was Micki. He had hid behind his fake dick. In the corner of her white bathroom, a spider quivered. She shot herself an unsteady look in the mirror, realizing he would not call her again. When it came time to scrub her teeth, she felt the wetness on the top of her thumb. The spider had hid away and she searched the gray sky and brick from her dirt framed window. Nothing. She could still go to sleep and wake up tomorrow. There was a quiet sniffle from across the way. Perhaps her neighbor was reading on the porch, getting ready to recreate. Give me incense as charity, she thought. Give me anything but that stale smell of a weed tower memory--she and R taking that joint and fulfilling R's fantasy of doing it high. Why does every man have a fantasy he can describe so mercilessly? You've satisfied that one, they say. Or will you satisfy this one? Who will, the next? I won't be there. The light went on in the room across her window. A fat framed figure appeared and sat, face blocked by the screen. Often, she would walk nude into her bathroom. She cupped water to spit out toothpaste and any other stupid thing she had not eaten. She would not try to open her mouth tomorrow. Those catatonic patients had taught her how to break up desire. Even when they coughed, they made no sound. Nor when they choked or needed to die. A few blocks away, rich people were getting ready to party if their party won. Well, what the hell? She would have joined a pity party anyway. Every one had looked so good going off to vote, their make-up perfectly done, their eyes hidden by dark glasses. They were famous in their heads. She would have needed to run a hundred miles to win for her own party. How stupid could she be? Alone, she would burn all her books and write something no one would see. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 27,June,2004 | all this time you were pretending... so much for my happy ending... lalala ;) (thanks AL, you're not so bad...) what you gonna do? what you gonna say? Fahrenheit 9/11 please: somebody stop this insanity i couldn't sit through it without needing to throw up. in bed, i let my body go--sleep is my lover. still need to arrange the steps above the ceiling, take the clear plastic bag into hiding and watch as the pigeons never come by. if not to Blake, then to Keats: To Sleep O Soft embalmer of the still midnight, Shutting, with careful fingers and benign, Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine: O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes, Or wait the amen, ere the poppy throws Around my bed its lulling charities. Then save me, or the passed day will shine Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,-- Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul. Oh, Keats, dying overlooking the Spanish Steps, feeding us poppies from his grave. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 19,June,2004 | urlLink Mona Ona |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 18,June,2004 | her eyes watch us from wherever we are, her eyes that watch herself and no one else. she curves her lips to carve the pleasure from her mystical stance. find her fingers, my Shangri-La. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 17,June,2004 | there is a reason to be very unhappy, to tremble with a sadness as deep as an apple falling without weight. and there is an equal reason to be happy enough to find lift in its fall. [halcyon days. tranquil ways.] here is a pomegranate for the Sabbath. it is no sin to eat that apple Eve ate. here is a pomegranate for every day of your week. it is no sin to eat that apple Eve couldn't wait to taste. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 31,July,2004 | urlLink RoyalOperaHouse - Synopses - Opera synopses from previous seasons Boulez: '...if you don't really lead the tempo, the piece becomes totally dead. And therefore my tempos were maybe a reaction against the slow tempos of before. But for me, Parsifal is a very dramatic work, and therefore you have to have contrast, otherwise it's completely soporific.' B.: 'if you don't really lead [...], the [girl] becomes totally dead. And therefore my [dramatic advances] were maybe a reaction against the slow [experiences she had] before. But for me [S.] is a very [dramatic kind of girl], and therefore you have to have contrast, otherwise [she's] completely soporific.' Ms. Who The Hell and the Country Thumbelinas. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 30,July,2004 | blue moon tomorrow crawling rain in the parlor bilk tyro tired of the world in colors |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 27,July,2004 | urlLink Guardian Unlimited | Arts Friday Review | How I rescued Parsifal |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 27,July,2004 | urlLink Sequenza21/The Contemporary Classical Music Weekly |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 27,July,2004 | July 30, 2004 Because I could, I started my sentence with because and had a child called Marcia. She looked like Elvis in the good days and never spoke a bad word to Mamma. I treated her like a princess and made sure she had strawberry bubble-baths every frigging day. She was older than me in no time and loved to tell me stories about her sexual conquests. I would just sit back and listen to her winding voice meander through the convolutions of my alcohol soaked brain, in awe of her beauty of both mind and body. I must confess, whenever she moved, I found myself looking at her, obsessed with her blond ringlets shining in both the rain and the sun. She was my only baby and she treated me sweetly. I didn’t feel in any way inconvenienced by her desires and fell asleep soundly each night she stayed at home. When she was four, she left home to conquer the big wide world with her big blue eyes. She would write to me from Paris, then from Rome, then from London, and so on and so forth about meeting famous people in the business. She learned everything from the Can-Can to the Rachmaninov 3 during her travels: she was professional in everything she did. Although she never did return home to Blueville, she remained my fervent admirer and would sign her letters with an effusive flourish of both penmanship and wording: “I love you, Darling. Send my regards to your whole body, your Marcia Baby.” She wrote me once from Switzerland, from some spa— I’ve forgotten it’s name—where she was staying with a beautiful banker of the dark flavored variety, that she had given up chocolate for good and was playing the violin as well as Paganini would have if he had been blessed with six fingers on his left hand... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 27,July,2004 | urlLink {because she could not stop for death} |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,July,2004 | even Neptune carries a better trident--let the fish go...there are so many. change hurts but it also feels so good. i don't care. my name is also G-d's. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 26,July,2004 | I chatted with Tricia in Oxford for the first time in months and her younger sister's married in St. P with a 7 month year old girl named Rada. She's going out with this M.A. student in History named Masatake and the world is perfect. I found her perfect letters in the Renoir book. I feel as if i'm losing my faith in the watch towers...England: 'chronic alcoholics, godless..' Some older guy from my Dad's congregation or whatever introduced me to his kids as i was walking on Greene Ave. yesterday. He said i saw me dance up at storm at that Boccelli wedding...oh did i? Well he didn't see me in Luzern...hah. urlLink HYPERCOM.ca - love Dear Mr. A: Somebody told me that to pass the time, you must stop breathing. Of course, when youre dead, you pass the time beautifully. If feels as if someone hit me in the head with a sledge hammer. In the dream I was about to go to IDMs concert and then I realized I should fix my hair and use the bathroom. For some reason, I thought the bathroom was outside the concert hall. I go out again into this deserted street in New York City. It happens to be quite cold outside and windy. Perhaps we are in Autumn--is it November? And as I walk out, I see no one on the street---this deserted street, except the man I saw before, a tall dark figure waiting in a light beige trench coat near a lamppost with a heavy long black rolled-up umbrella. I notice him looking straight at me and then I realize it is finished for me. He runs towards me and it is clear he is wearing a black mask over his face. It is also clear that he is about to lunge at me with his heavy black umbrella--to impale me. I cry out: No, please dont kill me. Take my body instead. He does not speak but motions with his hand, stopping in his tracks, at which point five or six muscular men in tight white T-shirts encircle me. I know what they will do and I cannot look at them. I cannot feel anything but nausea sweeping over and through me. I cannot even swallow. Then, more women appear seemingly in the same position as me, with muscular men surrounding them, ready to take their bodies and do what they will with them. I know that rape is not the only activitythey will try to kill us as well. But to be raped over and overdoes that not amount to death? To pass the time
Somehow, light is added to the image and I find myself still prostrated in front of the men who watch over us, but now on grass. I cannot remember their conversation but I remember thinking, as their banter heats up, that I can escape. I run so fast I cannot see, right back into the reappearing buildingthe light is almost the light of the fire and I see IDM. I slink underneath a table, trembling, but still he catches my eye, as he sits up front, overseeing the show. At the endthere were only five minutes left of some jazzy music with three girls in gaudy costumes doing some sort of Can-Can inspired danceI run to him and crouch in a corner, hiding. I think he puts his hand over my head as I hunch over in a feral attitude, in a rabbit's stance, not knowing how to breathe. He is wearing blue and his face is dissolving into his glasses and mouth. I do not remember what happens next and then I wake up. I grope my way out my dream. The rest of the day is spent determining how much I shouldnt eat and... Then, I get the alarm about my fever and I cannot do anything but fall into bed. I rule out the fact that I have taken in too much German wine. The blue bottle with Germanic lettering sits empty on the counter in the morning. Mr. Robot must be on drugs. Well, you were four months on Sangria... What happened? Ill get you so drunk and youll tell me to my advantage. Its not in the past: its in the future. You will repeat it. I am not the same but you are the constant and I must find out what you did to let go when she did or whatever. Ah, dont make yourself out to be so important. Even if I told you everything, you would not be able to know me any better. You will never... Program for tomorrow: mail that letter, fix the files, kill the flies, paint my nails, find the hammer, avocado, tomato, salt and Feelings with lime....never go wrong...it's as seductive as Audrey Hepburn in her pillow feathers. i intend to be free. someone agrees...norton norton i want you to enter me as sweetly as Shakespeare did his black lady. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 22,July,2004 | urlLink The Globe and Mail |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 22,July,2004 | forgive me i wanted to eat the pomegranate seeds now with you but they are not in season and since you will leave me they will never be i feel as if the laughter from our bodies falls away into the distance as a curve squared and then forgotten and what have i do to but hide this from you my heart ripe with feeling you would say without sufficient reason as when i see you walking towards me but you are not there so i can close my eyes and imagine what it would be if to live to tell you you are to hear you tell it because of that one shared heart in true season |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 20,July,2004 | urlLink Hard Work |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 20,July,2004 | urlLink Schiller's 'Of the Sublime' : 'veil' Darling, the time is 12:12 a.m. as i write... ain't that lucky? toe/nail/hammer/hug/love/kisses put them all together and you have the longest word known to Koreans? (Although only seventeen letters long, sesquipedalianism (http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Sesquipedalianism) deserves a mention. It was used as a nonce word by the Roman author Horace , in his work ' Ars Poetica '...The quote is as follows: 'Proicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba,' which means, 'He throws aside his paint pots and his words that are a foot and a half long'. The word sesquipedalianism means 'the practice of using words one and half feet long'.) succulent--that is... i'd go here for alcohol: urlLink Isis and Osiris : 'piece' but the alcohol would end up here: 'Everything that is veiled, everything mysterious, contributes to the terrible, and is therefore capable of sublimity. Of this variety is the legend, that one read at Sais in Egypt above the temple of Isis. 'I am everything, that is, that has been, and that will be. No mortal man has lifted my veil.' -- Precisely this uncertainty and mysteriousness gives man's conceptions of the future after death something of the dreadful; these feelings are very well expressed in the well-known soliloquy of Hamlet.' -Schiller, 1793 from 'Of the Sublime' in English translation... take me...take me there Hamlet and Co... but not alone...(said the lily to petals...) ('you're a star...of course you're not shy, you don't have to deny it, love...' (U2...)) |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 20,July,2004 | hey baby ya baby i gotta feel the luv you know what i'm sayin'? and i'm not feelin' it so ya gotta put it all out sexy just put it out ya gotta give Angie a reason to come a real reason ya know what i'm sayin' not some little twinkle star but a whole big shiny sun ya know what i mean baby cuz i'm not feelin' it or myself anywhere until ya give me a reason so i'm parked here like Angel in Waitin' doin' my hair wit my eyes closed an' washin' my berries until they all squeaky clean an' not dangerous to eat no more an' tastin' sugary sweet but baby ya know what i mean ya can't be seein' me ever again unless ya show me sometin' i can't stop wantin' like the garden of eden baby or yer eyes brighter than de night sky baby deeper an' deeper...no i won't make ya no jumbo pie ever ever ever again an' dontya like that sumptuous delicious thing...well dontya? well you won't have none unless ya show me somtin' more cuz Angie ain't runnin' in no more circles 'round sometin' that doesn't shine hard enough ya know what i'm sayin' baby so don't try singin' dem pretty songs at me to make me crazy agin cuz Angie's deaf an' blind for ya until she feels yer feelin' it losin' it ... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 20,July,2004 | urlLink Coop Himmelblau using this thing to write down what happened during the day can be harmful for the health, so that's why i'm coughing: just got off phone with Babs--oh my G-d, it's been years since we've really talked--like the cover of the Beaver Log: a golden faery tree--she's an artist, architect and now studying in physio in the 'toilet paper' building of McGill (her words, not mine). her bf, Eric, is at Columbia U. doing his M.A. in Architecture and working now until the end of the month at the prestigious and up and coming and yadadada ;) Coop Himmelblau in Vienna: the firm won the BMW contract for Munich something...deconstructionist architecture: 'explosive buildings' --her words, not mine. maybe something crazy and better than good will happen because i want it to... i've been thinking of calling her for a long long time. Babs: have a great time in Vienna and travelling around Europe...stop in Luzern, even for one night...the swans are waiting. G-d, i need to learn how to drive, err, i mean, relearn how to ride a bike... and neither could she couldn't get enough of... |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 18,July,2004 | don't be afraid: i'll only meet you in an alley, carrying my knife as a pen. they'll be flowers in my hair to hide the emotion, and when i'll touch you, kneeling in the path of rain, i'll have your skin, your eyes closing. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 17,July,2004 | urlLink Eugene O'Neill Playwright (Join Me...HIM cover by Lightforce...) |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 17,July,2004 | Psycho and the murder who was not a transvestite. Spider Man 2nd time coming, and the tiger who was a spider. 70s shoes and the sound they make on the roof. Vertigo. she wished she could have asked him, how are you? she wished she could have really. her mother told her she had called him to find out the truth: where is she? who cares? her mother told her, as she was drinking wine from the Rhine: 'he doesn't give a fuck about you.' then, the phone rang: it was Spiderman wanting to know if his web was too thick. no, just right, Charlotte. after, they spoke about death and dark alleys but only jokingly. there was no such thing as. when she got off the phone, the mother came into the room as she was trying to soften the web, send Dr. Jekyll flowers he can turn red: yellow, spoiled, sad. for science and sticky poetry. but, the mother was there. she interrupted the operation. disguise me. the woman who was her mother snapped: 'of course he doesn't give a fuck. who would care about you? someone as crazy as you...' and on and on and on. pay me. don't feel sorry for words. only feel sorry you hurt yourself so much. 'sometimes, you have to give up your dreams to do what's right.' that's right Uncle Alice or whatever your name is: you've got Spiderman, see: there will always be Stella, pieces of meat hanging, glistening with juices, from your ceiling and the anxious voice: Blanche...send her away! we can be safe here: Oh, my God. |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 17,July,2004 | urlLink Haaretz - Israel News - Search Results |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 17,July,2004 | urlLink Scotsman.com News - Prince William - Prince's taste for cider is sweet for sales |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 16,July,2004 | urlLink Edgar Allan Poe: Never Bet the Devil Your Head 'He did not long survive his terrible loss...' |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 16,July,2004 | urlLink The Globe and Mail |
2,581,876 | female | 24 | indUnk | Sagittarius | 15,July,2004 | be not the soldier that arms herself with fear let them like chopin and together eat cake the guillotine awaits those who withhold bread for truth, for art: alta, alta...and away... |
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