February 2012
19 posts
Orange Sky, Alexi Murdoch
Kids talk so real. →
I like art art is nice →
To Elsie
The pure products of America go crazy — mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey with its isolate lakes and valleys, its deaf-mutes, thieves old names and promiscuity between devil-may-care men who have taken to railroading out of sheer lust of adventure and young slatterns, bathed in filth from Monday to Saturday to be tricked out that night with gauds from imaginations...
Modern Girl, Sleater-Kinney
This. →
January 2012
1 post
August 2011
14 posts
4 tags
“Having a partner doesn’t mark the beginning of security; it just changes the...”
– Nerve’s “Miss Information” advice column
I don’t normally post shit like this… but this is pretty intelligent. I like this right here.
Eyes on Fire (Zeds Dead Remix), Blue Foundation
Robert Frost by Bryan Wolfson
“‘Perhaps someday you can have one city as easy to see as Illusions and as...”
– Milo to Alec, The Phantom Tollbooth
The Naming of Cats
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter, It isn’t just one of your holiday games; You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES. First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily, Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James, Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey— All of them sensible everyday names....
July 2011
2 posts
The Sound of the Trees [excerpt]
I shall set forth for somewhere, I shall make the reckless choice Some day when they are in voice And tossing so as to scare The white clouds over them on. I shall have less to say, But I shall be gone. - Robert Frost
June 2011
11 posts
There may be Chaos still around the World
There may be chaos still around the world, This little world that in my thinking lies; For mine own bosom is the paradise Where all my life’s fair visions are unfurled. Within my nature’s shell I slumber curled, Unmindful of the changing outer skies, Where now, perchance, some new-born Eros flies, Or some old Cronos from his throne is hurled. I heed them not; or if the subtle night Haunt me with...
The Thought-Fox
I imagine this midnight moment’s forest: Something else is alive Beside the clock’s loneliness And this blank page where my fingers move. Through the window I see no star: Something more near Though deeper within darkness Is entering the loneliness: Cold, delicately as the dark snow A fox’s nose touches twig, leaf; Two eyes serve a movement, that now And again now, and...
Leaving Early
Lady, your room is lousy with flowers.
When you kick me out, that’s what I’ll remember,
Me, sitting here bored as a leopard
In your jungle of wine-bottle lamps,
Velvet pillows the colour of blood pudding
And the white china flying fish from Italy.
I forget you, hearing the cut flowers
Sipping their liquids from assorted pots,
Pitchers and Coronation goblets
Like Monday...
“Will the mountain last as long as I can wait?
Wait like the dawn
How it aches...”
– Iron and Wine, “Jezebel”
April 2011
4 posts
Stand By Me, Jonnie Taylor and the Soul Stirrers