"...the most memorable concern of mankind is the guts it takes to face the sunlight again..."

Oh, you dirty ol' man Buk.

"Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice; your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory
of you.
I live with pain that is like a wound;
if you touch me you will do me irrepearable harm.
You're caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
Because of you, the heady pefumes of summer pain me;
because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
shooting stars,
falling objects."

Neruda

Contempt was the best and saddest movie I've seen in a while,

besides 400 blows which was heartbreaking, too.

She is the perpetrator,
the yellow steam,
the crunch of clams shells on the shore.
She slams fisted palms above the waters
the ruddish boats blow,
steam from their tops,
mildew from their bows.
The drolling troll hides beneath you,
you navigate through dreams
with the insistence that trolls
are modern day toll roads.
Bridges now ebb to you
and fall apart beneath my webbing feet.
I clutch onto you as a snails slug glue,
beheading the beauty in you
I fall deeper still into idle water
the smell
of the fireflies we used to catch
let out their neon flames onto the tongues we used
once
a long time ago,
to weave past your blue.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUs4awmb3-o

wellnow this just seems appropriate. haha

Ok, yes. Twin Peaks is awesome.

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I'm discovering the true power of words. Their range and pitch,
how some sound ugly and too complex with no interesting meaning.
Technology.
I've discovered is an ugly word to me.

Hedonistic,
is an intellectual one.
And apparently loved by Cornel West.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIAb9ClVoZc

I am the serpent,

I slide through the cracks of other people's alone

I strangle

I hold

I eat the rabbits whole

I shed layers of skin

leaving them to grow

for you to have this dead meat as good as bone.

She’s right

The sneaky calls of heeded

Advisings made to say

Keep going, keep going

Round the bends of that

House

We make it home

She misses me when I’m gone

When we can’t hang around

Or buy things

The leaves paint the grass

Gold,

We scurry through the

Pavement

Through the battery

Our hearts keep us living

She says my mind

Is my death

Is my inaction.

Thought is the reaction

In those shaded parts

Of home we will not go.

Tickles

Rubbish

Sleet

Feet

Fetish

Enclosed

Fixed

Sneaks

Stuck

Torn

Gaps

Grain

Sullen

Hue

Of

Orange

Poles

Building

To

Building to

Brick

In the gaps

My nose creates along the frame

The frame

Of the window pane,

Paint chipping

It keeps falling onto a fake wooden floor

We fake it

Till we make it

Till we sweep it

Under and above all these other windows

Caught

Staring at me the same way each day.

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.

My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.

Ted Hughes

Um. Daniel Craig reading poetry.....ha

ha

ha

I re-met a man who used to be famous, within my family, for being a bada$$.
He earned this title simply by having sleeves (tattoo),
and maybe 4 piercings.

He has now turned into a frum,
he carries around the Midrash
with highlighted arrow stickies,
and a son with curls on the side of his hair
called something like Haroah Tickvah.

He seemed happy,
with that deep barrier the eyes can sometimes make
when you've become dedicated
to anything,
or god.

GOYTE: Somebody that I Used to Know

These lyrics are perfect. They sum up the disgust rather well. Fucking gross.

Blech, splat, ickkk.

Reading at work is splendid.

beautiful fucking woman! So different as a blonde. I just want so many posters of so many women.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEAZMNbAuMI&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSwzlxdwjNg

All these things you are missing. All these things the people I never really wanted to count on have stepped up and been here for. It's amazing when you realize who has truly been good to you, and why.

I remember spitting on your face out of love,
out of sexual desire,
and now
I just want to fucking spit on it, period.

This will be my first death,
along a long line of terrible,
and my father did not hesitate to continue on
without asking.
I stroked his silly one piece of hair,
I told him I loved him
and I could tell he could hear me and all of us.
They say people wait to say goodbye,
but I never really believed that till now.