Nº. 2 of  40

tellmeakirsten

she rocks
she swings
she delights in faded things
her mystery not of high heels
and eyeshadow

believing as being

-

faith in filling a cavernous heart

once carved out deep, in a brass-hard way

beauty found in faith, floating,

to still believe, hole in heart,

in the potential of empty space.

-

faith in refilling a cavernous heart

past brim, overflowing, dripping on

my hands, your chest, strangers’ feet:

love.

to hide in your lips, beneath your tongue

where bleeding is letting go, white and pure.

-

until then, to wait.

sit,

lay,

live.

compound the days, sum of all white

little x’s on the black and then

just love,

and we.

-

for now,

breathing,

treading,

climbing,

belief;

faith in refilling a cavernous heart

is enough.

from and for a dear friend

-

Joy and Sorrow

Then a woman said, “Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.”

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

last night was fun

last night was fun

just applied to columbia

-

one down, one to go

for the 58295802 people calling me to tell me “haha! astrology is all fucked up”

  1. Astrology is Earth-centric. Not Star- or Moon-centric. If the Moon’s relative position to the stars changes, that doesn’t mean the Zodiac changes.
  2. Western astrologers have used a Tropical or season-based Zodiac for about 2,500 years. That is why time and location of birth are so important.
  3. The signs of the Zodiac, while represented in constellations, are not derived or aligned exclusively with constellations (although they did so coincidentally around 2000 years ago.)
  4. I don’t care

just bought these babies along with some justin roper boots. pray they fit. 

just bought these babies along with some justin roper boots. pray they fit. 

Good artists exist in what they make, and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in what they are. A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating … [they] live the poetry [they] cannot write

—Oscar Wilde

The real damage is done by those millions who want to ‘survive.’ The honest men who just want to be left in peace. Those who don’t want their little lives disturbed by anything bigger than themselves. Those with no sides and no causes. Those who won’t take measure of their own strength, for fear of antagonizing their own weakness. Those who don’t like to make waves—or enemies. Those for whom freedom, honour, truth, and principles are only literature. Those who live small, mate small, die small.


It’s the reductionist approach to life: if you keep it small, you’ll keep it under control. If you don’t make any noise, the bogeyman won’t find you. But it’s all an illusion, because they die too, those people who roll up their spirits into tiny little balls so as to be safe. Safe?! From what? Life is always on the edge of death; narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn.

Sophie Scholl: Die letzten Tage (2005). Quote from Sophie Scholl, a student leader of the peaceful anti-government resistance group the White Rose in 1940s Germany. She was a biology major at the University of Munich. She was beheaded by the National Socialists in February, 1943. (via whakahekeheke)

(via laurabeta)

i always wanted to be a tenenbaum

i always wanted to be a tenenbaum

isn’t this the point of finals week?

isn’t this the point of finals week?

(Source: s0justsayfuckit, via googletheparty-deactivated20110)

Nº. 2 of  40