December 2011
133 posts
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Quietude
your
voice
is all i hear
in the
dull stillness
before i
sleep.
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“The only thing I know is everything you love will die. The first time you meet...”
– Chuck Palahniuk
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DEC PDP-11/70 | A Western Tale
Tex Doe, the marshall of Harry City, rode into town. He sat hungrily in the saddle, ready for trouble. He knew that his sexy enemy, Alphonse the Kid, was in town.
The Kid was in love with Texas Horse Marion. Suddenly the Kid came out of the upended Nugget Saloon. “Draw, Tex”, he yelled madly. Tex reached for his girl, but before he could get it out of his car, the Kid fired, hitting Tex in the...
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Stopping by Woods →
‘The poem ‘Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening’ was written about nightfall on the shortest day of the year, though it was actually put to paper at dawn on June 21st, 1922 - the longest day. This has always puzzled Kenneth Steven, a poet captivated by Frost’s seemingly effortless mastery of rhyme, metre, language and imagery.’
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“My dearest friend
You’ll soon begin to love again.”
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Lines
I don’t know if you know this
But every moment has a temperature.
And every conversation that occurs
Between us
With eyes
With mouths
With bodies -
Sets up infinite potentialities and vibrations
That radiate outwards from an infinitely unknowable centre.
I don’t know if you know this.
But sometimes I am blind.
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“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge, that myth is more potent...”
– Robert Fulghum
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I doubt that there are many people in the world who cry when they’re listening to Chapter Three of ‘Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets’, but I’m one of them, God forgive me.
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The Great Wide Everywhere →
Yes.
Please.
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“A good book is like a friend made of paper.”
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“As Thoreau found a universe in the woods around Concord, any person whose senses...”
– Edward Abbey | Down the River
Ted Hughes | The Warm and the Cold
Freezing dusk is closing Like a slow trap of steel On trees and roads and hills and all That can no longer feel. But the carp is in its depth Like a planet in its heaven. And the badger in its bedding Like a loaf in the oven. And the butterfly in its mummy Like a viol in its case. And the owl in its feathers ...
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“Some day in six inches of
Ashes will be all
That’s left of our passionate...”
– Kenneth Rexroth
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“It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you
Everything I do
I tell...”
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Neil Gaiman & Shaun Tan (Interview) →
“…Creating a character is like impersonating another being, so that you can find out what you think about something. You really find out what your style is when you diversify – setting something in a fictional landscape, the far future or distant past. A lot of people think of style or personality in terms of things you do often, but it’s not really. It’s what you do under duress, or...
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Anniversary
Last year, catching sight of that first robin
As we threaded down the hedge-littered hill.
My belief in prophecy turned mirage-like under the winter sun
As I tried to exact some meaning from our situation.
Last year, the band of wedding followers that crept up alongside us,
Champagne and smiles all round.
The desire of tourists to be caught in that
Burnished glowing confidence of the new...
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“When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn’t want it, you cannot take...”
– Sylvia Plath
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At rest, the divine centre reaches out
Encompassing all.
A choice; to be the furthest one can be
From the light.
Separation and illumination
One and the same.
All closeness severed by an
Imposition of the will.
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“I have always looked upon decay as being just as wonderful and rich an...”
– Henry Miller
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“The freckles of rain on her small frame.”
– Michael Ondaatje | Divisadero
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“When my husband died, because he was so famous & known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me — it still sometimes happens — & ask me if Carl changed at the end & 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 & never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that...
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Something Understood
‘If you had breath for no more than 99 words, what would they be?’
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I’ve always been an ironic dreamer, unfaithful to my inner promises. Like a complete outsider, a casual observer of whom I thought I was, I’ve always enjoyed watching my daydreams go down in defeat. I was never convinced of what I believed in. I filled my hands with sand, called it gold, and opened them up to let it slide through. Words were my only truth. When the right words were...
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The Art of Darkness →
Richard Coles travels in the dead of winter up to the Lofoten Island in Norway - where the Northern lights and the extraordinary colours of winter darkness draw spellbound artists to live and work.
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“Dusky are the avenues of wine,
And we must cross the frontiers, though we will...”
– D. H. Lawrence | Grapes (excerpt)
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“But everyone disappears, no matter who loves them.”
– Dave Eggers
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