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Jan. 27th, 2009

freedom

someday...

Mark Haddon, A Spot of Bother
“Loving someone means taking the risk that they might fuck up your nicely ordered little life.”

Dec. 25th, 2008

freedom

with all these gift cards, i'll have to make a book list

After You'd Gone by Maggie O'Farrell

What are you supposed to do with all the love you have for somebody if that person is no longer there? What happens to all that leftover love? Do you suppress it? Do you ignore it? Are you supposed to give it to someone else?
I never knew it was possible to think about someone all of the time, for someone to be always doing acrobatic leaps across your thoughts. Everything else was an unwelcome distraction from what I wanted to think about.

I still cannot believe you have gone. Before this, I used to wake up and wonder for a split second why I had this weight of grief pressing down on my chest and why my pillow was wet. I used to forget because it was just absurd for me to be without you. Absurd.
But you did die. And for no reason at all.

‘Life goes on’: so many people had said that to me. Yes, life fucking well goes on but what if you don’t want it to? What if you want to arrest it, stop it, or even battle against the current into a past you don’t want to be past? ‘You’ll get over it’ – that as another. But I didn’t want to get over it. I didn’t want to become used to the fact that he’d died. That was the last thing I wanted.

Nov. 23rd, 2008

freedom

a new must-read...

Paper Towns by John Green

"Maybe it's more like you said before, all of us being cracked open. Like, each of us starts out as a watertight vessel. And these things happen - these people leave us, or don't love us, or don't get us, or we don't get them, and we lose and fail and hurt one another. And the vessel starts to crack open in places. And I mean, yeah, once the vessel crack opens, the end becomes inevitable. One it starts to rain inside the Osprey, it will never be remodeled. But there is all this time between when the cracks start to open up and when we finally fall apart. And it's only in that time that we can see one another, because we see out of ourselves through the crack and into others through theirs. When did we see each other face-to-face? Not until you saw into my crack and I saw into yours. Before that, we were just looking at ideas of each other, like looking at your window shade but never seeing inside. But once the vessel cracks, the light can get in. The light can get out."

Nov. 21st, 2008

freedom

this has me worried...

"We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It's easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven't even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else."

"Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story" by Chuck Klosterman
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Nov. 6th, 2008

books

another book i need to read

The Future Dictionary of America

"HUMANSONG [hyoo'-mun-sahng] n. a song sung to convince someone to love you. As human beings evolved, people discovered that singing was a way to seduce people they had crushes on. It began awkwardly, with out-of-tune guitars from teenage years dragged up from basements, and embarrassed singers recording their songs and sending them to the desired person through the postal system without explanation or return address. With time, instruments fell out of use, and people began to risk singing their songs in person, mostly unaccompanied, even though their faces sometimes turned red, as did the faces of people they sung to. Occasionally someone's voice would crack, and this was so charming that people actually tried to have their voice crack on purpose, but it turned out it was impossible to fake, just as were other equally endearing imperfections (i.e., wrong notes, forgotten words replaced with repeated choruses, gaping silences brought on by mortification, etc.) The success of humansong was so great that other, less successful human mating rituals like small talk, alcohol consumption, and bad dancing were abandoned in favor of singing. Every humansong is as unique as a fingerprint or snowflake. When you open a window in spring, the air is sometimes filled with them."

- Nicole Krauss

Oct. 25th, 2008

pretty

i like...

I like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
I like your body. I like what it does,
I like its hows. I like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which I will
again and again and again
kiss, I like kissing this and that of you,
I like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly I like the thrill

of under me you so quite new.

e.e. cummings

Oct. 11th, 2008

freedom

score!

My landlady was hosting a yard sale today. She's collected lots of things from apartments that people didn't want or had left behind. As I have only recently moved in, I knew I wanted to check out the sale and see if I could find anything of use.

So I spot this old end table, the kind we all had next to our plaid couches in the late 80's. And I think, a quick coat of paint is all it needs to be fabulous. She was only asking $10 for it, but when I tried to give her money, she told me to just take it.

Score for free furniture!

Oct. 8th, 2008

birdie

I need a cure!

I'm taking part in Apartment Therapy's Fall Cure (if I can without getting the book). My place is new to me and it could use some help.

http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/ny/eastern-fall-cure-getting-oriented-week-zero-065443

Favorites:

Actress: Zooey Deschanel
Actor: Sam Rockwell, Christopher Walken
Writer: Ernest Hemingway, Dr. Seuss
Music: Ingrid Michaelson, Dr. Dog, Greg Laswell
Restaurant: anything cheap
Automobile: my new Hyundai Elantra, or my bike with a basket
TV Show: Lost, Fringe, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Project Runway, Top Design
Clothing: Gap, Target

My Style:

1) inexpensive
2) repurposed
3) evolving

Personal History:

Born and raised on Long Island, just moved out of my parents basement into an apartment in Montauk.

Role Model:

My Mother

Her Qualities (list 3)

1) motivated
2) patient
3) loving

So what is wrong with my place?

1) wood paneling that cannot be painted!
2) unsettled
3) small

If my house could speak what would it say?

brighten me up, please

What would I like to do more of here?

entertain, relax without thinking about what needs to be done/fixed/changed

In 8 weeks, how do I want my friends to describe my place?

1) fabulous
2) colorful
3) welcoming

Oct. 7th, 2008

love

...it is your eyes that close

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride;
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
But this, in which there is no I or you,
So intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
So intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

--Sonnet XVII, Pablo Neruda
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Oct. 5th, 2008

love

go or go ahead

Got me writing lyrics on postcards
Then in the evenings looking at stars
But the brightest of the planets is Mars
What has happened to love

-Rufus Wainwright

I've decided the beauty of the ocean cannot be captured by a photograph. Its' beauty lies in movement and feeling, rather than color and shapes. Still, I will keep trying to snap a photo that shows what I feel at the ocean.

I watched the sun set at the beach tonight, and waited for the moon and the stars to shine. There were couples scattered along the shoreline. One couple stopped, right in front of me, to share a kiss under the moon. As jealous as I was, I felt lucky to have been given a part of that moment. A moment where no one else matters, just love. It made me believe. It made me believe that someone could get me writing lyrics on postcards and looking at stars in the evenings.

My only worry is that the person who gets me is on the other side of that ocean.
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