It’s funny how we assume we make up certain phrases. It’s funny how we try to phrase things in ways that people might like. It’s funny how we assume people have to relate to something in order to like it. It’s funny that we all care so much about whether people like us. This all might be funny, if it weren’t so serious.
(via this isn’t happiness)
I’m in the middle of my fourth reading of Giovanni’s Room–the third reading this year. I don’t think there’s much left for me to underline, but I’m sure I’ll find a way.
“People who believe that they are strong-willed and the masters of their destiny can only continue to believe this by becoming specialists in self-deception. Their decisions are not really decisions at all—a real decision makes one humble, one knows that it is at the mercy of more things than can be named—but elaborate systems of evasion, of illusion, designed to make themselves and the world appear to be what they and the world are not.”
Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen
Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt
Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
when Body my good
bright dog is dead
How will it be
to lie in the sky
without roof or door
and wind for an eye
With cloud for shift
how will I hide?
because it’s not every day that I get compared to a famous fucked-up artist duo
And also, this week:
learned how to use a letter press
acquired dreams of grandeur associated with said letter press
constructed new life plan which combines countryside + visitors + artists + farming
read a poem that exploded some hairs from my head: woah
panicked about taxes & other numbers
humbled/thrilled by my poems in a screenplay thanks to jessie katz (!!)
piled lots of birthday mail on the table for wednesday
read lowell insatiably, aided by the notes of my mother, camels class of ’78 (thanks mom)
ate triple citrus
ate tuna fish
ate entire daytimes, ate a cookie from a stranger & ice cream from the carton
watched misha with a smartphone
remembered that when people make me uncomfortable i unconsciously sing otis redding to myself &
sissykatz arrives on saturday (& thank goodness for THAT)
panache, perhaps 