I met this girl
She was walking through one of my dreams
She kissed my eyes
And everything that she said
Made so much sense to me
That I still feel like I’m half asleep
….
So Colorado
Is a place I have to go
I heard a rumour
She loves the mountains and the snow
My dark angel
She gave me diamonds for eyes
My dark angel
I offer you my heart
My dark angel
I think I loved you from the start
‘Cause there’s this face that I know
That I’ve never seen
Sometimes I feel I’m livin’ in
Someone else’s dream
Still I thank you
For stopping to talk
And I wonder
Just into who’s dream did who walk
Oh my dark angel
Shine your light on me
“There is discomfort, even misery, in being cold The gloom of the long and lonely winter nights is appalling, and yet do you know I love this misery and court it…. And so this sojourn in the wilderness is in no sense an artist’s junket in search of picturesque material for brush or pencil, but the flight to feedom of a man who detests the endless petty quarrels and bitterness of the crowded world-the pilgrimage of a philosopher in quest of happiness and peace of mind.”
http://arcticcircle.uconn.edu/Museum/Lecturehall/Woodwardlecture/
George Eliot wrote, “If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence.”
Look at the earth from outer space
Everyone must find a place
Give me time and give me space
Give me real don’t give me fake
Give me strength, reserve control
Give me heart and give me soul
Give me time, give us a kiss
Tell me your own politik
And open up your eyes
http://athenadiaries.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-run.html
What am I running from?*
I’m running from a size 16, 14, 12…*
and a number on the scale,*from a lifetime of bad habits,*
….
I run.* I run from the past,*
from pain,*
….*
I run.*
I run from feeling trapped,*
from feeling like a loser,*
from past regrets,*
from things I wished I’d done differently,*
I run from the back of the pack,*
from DNF,*
from “you’re too slow,”*
from “you must be crazy,”*
from, “isn’t that hard on your knees?”* when I run,*
I run to nowhere in particular.*
I run alone,*
without fanfare,*
without audience,*
just me and the pre-dawn darkness*
and my footsteps.*
I know I’m slow,*
and I run like a girl.*
Try and keep up.
JAKE GYLLENHAAL
Why He’s Sexy: He took on a risky role in Brokeback Mountain because he believed in the film’s message: “In the end, it’s about how hard it is to love somebody, to really be intimate, to really let go and be open to that, no matter what the context.”
The fundamental trip-hop tempo is slow, slow but relentless, presided over by immense bass figures, as deep but less booming than those of house music. There are lots of rhythm drop-outs, as in dub, and inserted snippets of instruments or noises proliferate wildly in the cleverest mixes. The tone of many trip-hop numbers is sleepy, jaded, but the lyrics — sung in a smolder by women, rapped softly by men — spring, likely as not, from the raw wounds of social or romantic anguish.
Try: Massive Attack (song: Unfinished Sympathy) and*Portishead (Song: Only You) and DJ Shadow (Building Steam with a Grain of Salt).
Interlude by Linda Pastan
Interlude
We are waiting for snow
the way we might wait for a train
to arrive with its cold cargo?
it is late already, but surely
it will come.
We are waiting for snow
the way we might wait
for permission
to breathe again.
For only the snow
will release us, only the snow
will be a letting go, a blind falling
towards the body of earth
and towards each other.
And while we wait at this window
whose sheer transparency
is clouded already
with our mutual breath,
it is as if our whole lives depended
on the freezing color
of the sky, on the white
soon to be fractured
gaze of winter.
It smells like home. There are no words I’d rather hear … Home is a creation, and if built correctly, is a permanent possession. You carry it around in your suitcase or purse, your journal or jewelry box. You carry it around in your pocket. …but now I see that the desire to go back and recreate [the past] is not about being young so much as it is about finding the people you have lost. For them I would go back; I would pay closer attention to every second. I would remind myself what a fit just being there can be..”It’s what I have aken away from it; the images and smells and sounds. There is a feeling, like having a secret; it’s powerful and onderful and it’s what keeps people and places alive. It’s why people have the urge to go back and why they tell stories.
iLet the disappointments pass, let the laughter fill your glass, let your illusions last until they shatter, whatever you might hope to find. Among the thoughts that crowd your mind, there wonit be many that really matter.”
Last night driving, a*line from a poem enters my mind
But cannot speak the*exact line
Something like
- - *what is it I want that I can still have - -
Because I’ve been wondering about this lately
When I am home*I research versions of this phrase
I see May Sartonis name
Remembering 1992, when I read everything she wrote
iYour* valor, resilience, The fertile mind, the changing moods like clouds over a landscapei
Journals
Poems
Fiction
Reading more of*the article*I see the lines from*what seems like so long ago
And I’m still wondering about the same things
iAt the bottom of silence what lies in wait?
Is it love? Is it death? Too early or too late?
What is it I can have that I still want?i
***********“I don’t know how to live.”
**************************************************nSharon Olds
Eat lots of steak and salmon and Thai curry and mu shu
pork and fresh green beans and baked potatoes
and fresh strawberries with vanilla ice cream.
….*Play guitar
in a rock band. Read Dostoyevsky, Whitman, Kafka,
Shakespeare, Twain. …Treat ex-partners as kindly
as you can. Wish them as well as you’re able.
….Try not to lie; it sours
the soul. .*…. Listen to Elvis and Bach.
