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tragic and cinematic

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[05 Feb 2011|05:36pm]
Does anything in nature despair except man? An animal with a foot caught in a trap does not seem to despair. It is too busy trying to survive. It is all closed in, to a kind of still, intense waiting. Is this a key? Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit is out. Let it all pass. Let it go.

May Sarton, Journal of Solitude

[05 Feb 2011|04:34pm]
“We were gone almost a month and everything was sensual. Everything was erotic. It’s the gift of travel, where everything is infused with meaning, compressed, so you begin to see the golden strand that weaves life together. You are in a constant state of awe.” ~Terry Tempest Williams

[02 Feb 2011|03:16pm]
The Honest House

In an effort not to crawl back to you, I crossed the 2 train off my subway map in blue ink,
called it a river, sold my canoe.

Swept the soot from the chimney into a vase, scattered it all over Manhattan. Husband, I
pretended it was your ash.

Spoke your name in past tense and still, when we found ourselves in the same bar,
phoned a mystic. Told her I was seeing ghosts.

When you confessed your mistress, her red hair, her scars, how you learned them from
up-close, from inside out, you were no longer the man I married but a dead deer in the
center of our swimming pool.

Our dog has always considered you a burglar. Knew to spit, bark, bite before I did. Once
while you were sleeping, I stitched her electric fence through your skin. I wear her shock
collar on nights I go out drinking, on days I can’t find a reason to stay away even though
you have left so many behind.

I’ve watched you with other women. The way you hand fruit to supermarket clerks, how
your eyebrows lift at anyone with fake nails. Your favorite party story is how you once,
publicly, pleasured a girl with your band mate’s drumstick. It’s no wonder we don’t
love the same music.

On our first date, I bought a dress off a woman in Brooklyn so I could stay with you one
more day. Last week I threw your clothes from our roof knowing they would have fallen
faster had there been a body in them.

When I found a picture of your ex-lovers tits, used as a bookmark, I began opening every
novel upside down like a teenager shaking birthday cards waiting for cash to fall out.
This explains my love for fiction. We were never married. The dog is not ours.

While washing the dishes I watch from the window as the children we never had drown
in the piss-filled pool. I’ve never tried to save them. I invented that pool, this sink.

Did you know that the metronome inside us quickens when telling a lie? I want to build
an honest house, where the motion detector is so sharp it knows when my thoughts leave
the room. Where the clap-on lamp works as a polygraph. When you swear you still love
me, the lights flicker.

-Megan Falley

[02 Feb 2011|05:25am]
"When my husband died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me-it still sometimes happens-and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again. Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don’t ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous-not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance… . That pure chance could be so generous and so kind… . That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time… . That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it’s much more meaningful… . The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don’t think I’ll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful."

Ann Druyan, talking about her dead husband Carl Sagan

[25 Jan 2011|06:21pm]
674: A Working List of Things I Will Never Tell You
"A Working List of Things I Will Never Tell You"
Jon Sands

When I said I wasn’t with another girl
the January after we fell in love for the 3rd time,
it’s because it wasn’t actual sex.

In the February that began our radio silence,
it was actual sex. I hate the tight shirts
that go below your waistline.

Not only do they make you look too young,
but then your torso is a giraffe’s neck attached to tiny legs.
I screamed at myself in the subway

for writing poems about you still.
I made a scene. I think about you almost
each morning, and roughly every five days, I still

believe you’re there.
I still masturbate to you.
When we got really bad,

I would put another coat of mop water on the floor of the bar
to make sure you were asleep when I got to my side of the bed.
You are the only person to whom I’ve lied, knowing

I was telling the truth. I miss the way your neck
wraps around my face like a cave we are both lost in.
I remember when you said being with me

is like being alone with company.
My friend Sarah wrote a poem about pink ponies.
I’m scared you’re my pink pony.

Hers is dead. It is really sad. You’re not dead.
You live in Ohio, or Washington, or Wherever.
You are a shadow my body leaves on other girls.

I have a growing queue of things I know
will make you laugh and I don’t know where to put them.
I mourn like you’re dead. If you had asked me to stay,

I would not have said no.
It would never mean yes.

[25 Jan 2011|05:09pm]
Ideally, what should be said to every child, repeatedly, throughout his or her school life is something like this: ‘You are in the process of being indoctrinated. We have not yet evolved a system of education that is not a system of indoctrination. We are sorry, but it is the best we can do. What you are being taught here is an amalgam of current prejudice and the choices of this particular culture. The slightest look at history will show how impermanent these must be. You are being taught by people who have been able to accommodate themselves to a regime of thought laid down by their predecessors. It is a self-perpetuating system. Those of you who are more robust and individual than others will be encouraged to leave and find ways of educating yourself — educating your own judgments. Those that stay must remember, always, and all the time, that they are being molded and patterned to fit into the narrow and particular needs of this particular society.

Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook

Miranda July [16 Jan 2011|07:29am]
"Just because something's uncomfortable doesn't mean it's wrong and just because you have your doubts about what you're doing, or you don't trust yourself 100%, that's normal. There's this illusion that people who do stuff are totally confident and I've never been. I've been riddled with doubt through the whole thing, you know, with a few flashes of maybe, MAYBE this will be great."

"Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. There are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing."

[03 Jan 2011|05:19pm]
Slow Dance - Matthew Dickman

More than putting another man on the moon,
more than a New Year’s resolution of yogurt and yoga,
we need the opportunity to dance
with really exquisite strangers. A slow dance
between the couch and dinning room table, at the end
of the party, while the person we love has gone
to bring the car around
because it’s begun to rain and would break their heart
if any part of us got wet. A slow dance
to bring the evening home, to knock it out of the park. Two people
rocking back and forth like a buoy. Nothing extravagant.
A little music. An empty bottle of whiskey.
It’s a little like cheating. Your head resting
on his shoulder, your breath moving up his neck.
Your hands along her spine. Her hips
unfolding like a cotton napkin
and you begin to think about how all the stars in the sky
are dead. The my body
is talking to your body slow dance. The Unchained Melody,
Stairway to Heaven, power-cord slow dance. All my life
I’ve made mistakes. Small
and cruel. I made my plans.
I never arrived. I ate my food. I drank my wine.
The slow dance doesn’t care. It’s all kindness like children
before they turn four. Like being held in the arms
of my brother. The slow dance of siblings.
Two men in the middle of the room. When I dance with him,
one of my great loves, he is absolutely human,
and when he turns to dip me
or I step on his foot because we are both leading,
I know that one of us will die first and the other will suffer.
The slow dance of what’s to come
and the slow dance of insomnia
pouring across the floor like bath water.
When the woman I’m sleeping with
stands naked in the bathroom,
brushing her teeth, the slow dance of ritual is being spit
into the sink. There is no one to save us
because there is no need to be saved.
I’ve hurt you. I’ve loved you. I’ve mowed
the front yard. When the stranger wearing a shear white dress
covered in a million beads
comes toward me like an over-sexed chandelier suddenly come to life,
I take her hand in mine. I spin her out
and bring her in. This is the almond grove
in the dark slow dance.
It is what we should be doing right now. Scrapping
for joy. The haiku and honey. The orange and orangutan slow dance.

[31 Dec 2010|09:35am]
If you want to succeed in your life, remember this phrase: The past does not equal the future. Because you failed yesterday; or all day today; or a moment ago; or for the last six months; the last sixteen years; or the last fifty years of life, doesn’t mean anything… All that matters is: What are you going to do, right now?

– Anthony Robbins

[28 Dec 2010|07:12pm]
“there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.

people so tired
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.

it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place

unspoken to

watering a plant.”


[28 Dec 2010|07:09pm]

"The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are."

Fernando Pessoa | Bernardo Soares, The Book of Disquie

[28 Dec 2010|05:59pm]


[05 Jul 2010|01:42pm]

Upload Music

[30 Dec 2009|09:32am]

Originally uploaded by water_is_bad_for_robots
all of it.

instead create memories with people you love.
go to PEI
go to Mexico
tell your mom you love her
buy a nice dress
love louder, stronger, harder, more completely.

[12 Dec 2009|09:15am]



be ok. [07 Dec 2009|07:52pm]
"I am responsible. Although I may not be able to prevent the worst from happening, I am responsible for my attitude toward the inevitable misfortunes that darken life. Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have - life itself."

Walter Anderson

3 !!! | !!!

[21 Nov 2009|09:04pm]
We went to an open house today and it just felt right. Children's art hung on the wall. A huge seating area with lots of soft couches. A deck over looking a park. I want it. It feels so right. It is exactly how I imagine myself living for the next few years. All this from only the top apartment.

In the main floor apartment there was a newspaper clipping on the fridge about castlemusic. I jokingly said to Erik, I wonder if she lives here? Only for the relater to causally ask, Oh do you know Jennifer?
No, no of course I don't know her. But I knwo her music.
I saw her play at a tiny church. It was packed, people were sitting on the floor crowded together to make room for everyone. The lights were off. She lit a candle and started to sing. Everyone was silent. It was amazing. I bought her album the next day and listened to it for months.

The house is beautiful & I would have a beautiful tenant whose beautiful music might trickle up through the floor boards. I need this. Now to convince Erik.


4 !!! | !!!

[21 Nov 2009|09:57am]
why despise your own wiring? it was desire that made you; however twisted the originating bed, your beginning
was ferocious.
quiz: what's the difference between a lie and a myth.
answer: the storyteller's intention.
Marty McConnell - from The World's guide to beginning

Fell asleep on the couch after watching mirrormask and eating chicken stuffed with basil & sun dried tomatoes. Woke up; put on a black dress, black lace tights, black heels. Scared that I was dressed for a funeral. Forced my self out of the house at 23 past midnight. Hiked my dress up and rode my bike to the club. Descended the staircase by my self. Ordered a double vodkacran and looked for the ladies I was meeting. A year ago this would not have happened. Maybe the vodka, but never alone. Never with out clinging to someone else for support. A man in a leather jacket grabbed my face with both hands, told me it gorgeous. I give a silent prayer to the workers who made my glasses. Artificial confidence from an eye exam and two toned plastic frames.

it's not meant to be a struggle [19 Nov 2009|07:13pm]
lost wisdom
is a quiet echo
lost wisdom
a boulder under the house
i used to know you
now i don't

Every song on this album is perfect. Every. Single. Song.

I am so lonely. 14 unanswered emails. 6 unanswered texts. I can't deal with any of it. I am awkward. Not sad enough on the surface. Ashamed of being cold & distant. Relieved. Sick. Accepting or shutting down?
I want a new start.

Today: sparrows hiding from the rain under electric yellow shopping carts, chirping their little birdie hearts out. Arlind and Mitch, their faces lost in their hoods, bending over to see the birds, laughing. Dancing in the car on the drive back to school, traveling down streets we've never been on before, but drive by every day. Life is still beautiful. But the moments are not staying long enough.

It's warmer now: lean in to it
Unfold in a generous way

sometimes even to live is an act of courage [10 Nov 2009|01:31pm]
miss you

My father passed away on the 4th.
there are too many conflicting feelings.
Tomorrow is my first day back in the real world in over 2 weeks. I don't know if I am ready but I can't stay away any longer.
2 !!! | !!!

[09 Nov 2009|10:59am]

Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell
by Marty McConnell

leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses,
you make him call before
he visits, you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.

[23 Oct 2009|09:47pm]
my dad is in the hospital. unconsious since tuesday. today they said they think he's brain dead but want to wait a few more days. I don't know how to deal. we are all in denial. noone is saying anything.

he went in for a knee replacment. this wasn't supposed to happen.
2 !!! | !!!

[11 Oct 2009|03:36pm]
[ mood | disconnected ]

the weather feels good.
my mind, not so much.

hoping it's just the up coming exams that are throwing me off.

so much beauty these last few weeks.

Saw the salmon running in the Humber river near the old mill. Was really just in awe of the whole thing. The size of the fish, their determination, the beautiful fall scenery.

Riding in the back seat, listening to the Beatles, watching the red, orange, yellow trees pass by the window.

The weightless of a tiny, yellow finch as it trembled in my hands.

Standing under an apple tree, whose branches arced towards the ground. The perfect spot to hide from the world for a little while.

1 !!! | !!!

[04 Oct 2009|06:23pm]
I think last night was the most amazing night I've had in a long time.
3 !!! | !!!

[13 Sep 2009|01:36pm]

amazing weekend.
+1Collapse )

[31 Aug 2009|05:48pm]

osprey vs fishCollapse )

[06 Aug 2009|08:45pm]
we didn't get the house. our offer was in the top 3, but they wanted more money.

validation. [06 Aug 2009|03:19pm]
sometimes when you really need something you actually get it.
I needed this.


it will. [06 Aug 2009|02:43pm]

[04 Aug 2009|12:15pm]
We are making an offer on a house on Thursday. It's a multiple offer situation so we're not really sure if we're going to get it. I don't know how I feel. I'm not letting my self get excited because up until this point everything has been a bust. But it would be nice to start settling down. I'm looking at design blogs again and feeling pretty good about creating a beautiful place to live in.

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