March 2012
57 posts
1 tag
I love the expression “a world of joy.” When I hear it or say it, I visualize it to be like an enormous beach ball full of joy air (Or a whole planet! A Jupiter or Neptune of joy!) about to come sailing down onto my head.
February 2012
89 posts
… An unbearable pain had seized her throat, and silent sobs had shook her from within, but no tears came.
The coral ornaments on her crowns made a faint clicking sound against the stone pillar. She shivered and stood up straight.
In a corner was an ancient Moorish well. She leaned for a moment over the black mystery of the hole. Then she climbed up onto the worn rim. For an instant she...
Sorry I keep promoting this: Geopsychic New Orleans but I’m trying to get more followers. It’s my own photographic project I’ve been working on recently.
“There is no stability in this world. Who is to say what meaning there is in...”
– Virginia Woolf - The Waves.
(via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
“It is the east, and Juliet is the sun,” Romeo tells Juliet, for Juliet and the sun are equally dazzling to him, they are alike in that both are a dazzling light. Omoioma, atos: Plato uses those words in Phaedrus, and he posits that the amorous soul notices an omoioma, an imitation of celestial things in the things of this world that resemble them …
Julia Kristeva (“Eidos,...
“In the thickets of language every creature is wild.”
– Ivan Vladislavić’s “Dictionary Birds”, The Loss Library and Other Unfinished Stories.
(towirr)
She says people ought to learn to live like them, with the body abandoned in a wilderness, and in the mind the memory of a single kiss, a single word, a single look to stand for a whole love.
Marguerite Duras (Blues Eyes, Black Hair, tr. Barbara Bray)
Phaedrus is curious about cicadas so Sokrates goes on to supply some traditional lore:
Once upon a time, the story goes, cicadas were human beings, before the birth of the Muses. When the Muses were born and song came into being, some of these creatures were so struck by the pleasure of it that they sang and sang, forgot to eat and drink, and died before they knew it. From them the race of...
“But hurry, let’s entwine ourselves as one,
our mouth broken, our soul bitten...”
– Federico García Lorca, Sonnet of the Garland of Roses, trans. by Scott Tucker (via ontheedgeofdarkness)
The Transcendentalist
oscillationevocation:
Tone rows holding boxes of ghost charms. The theremin cantor and her effortless fingers. Gold threads spun from concussive waves, slight and strong. Her Throat. Passerine gestures alight, dance. Vibrato filigree Sustaining Releasing – And The Moon shining on’t.
Beaucoup new posts up at my other tumblr Geopsychic New Orleans! Please please go there and follow.
Martin.
Among a hundred brothers.
The desert is something.
The edge of the Arabian desert.
With shattered, shattered, shattering.
All visions shattered.
The whites.
My head.
The whites should.
They should be damned. He should.
She moved her mouth again as if she wanted to say something to him, at last say to him what she had never been able to say. She didn’t want to hold back...
Happy Mardi Gras!
