SAM SHEPARD from Fool for Love
I missed you. I did. I
missed you more than anything I ever missed in my whole life. I kept
thinkin’ about you the whole time I was driving. Kept seeing you.
Sometimes just a part of you.
EMIL CIORAN
In every man sleeps a prophet, and when he wakes there is a little more evil in the world.
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
BJÖRK - “Sue Me”
My tear duct clogged
My left eye broken
Medicate with warm compress
Extract hardened tears
Sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t denounce her origin
Sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t denounce our origin
I’ve ducked and dived
Like the mother in Solomon’s tale
To spare our girl
I won’t let her get cut in half ever
But it’s time to teach her some dignity
Sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t denounce our origin
Sue me, sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t denounce our origin
(No I won’t)
He took it from his father
Who took it from his father
Who took it from his father
Let’s break this curse
So it won’t fall on our daughter
And her daughter
And her daughter
Won’t let this sink into her DNA
Sue me, sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t let you denounce our origin
Sue me, sue me, sue me, sue me
I won’t denounce our origin
No I won’t
Can’t take her suffer
So unfair
The sins of the fathers
They just fucked it all up
We had the best family
We had it all
We had it all in our hands
He just pulled us through the wringer
Narcissistic
My tear duct clogged
My left eye broken
Medicate with warm compress
Extract hardened tears
Sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t denounce her origin
Sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t denounce our origin
I’ve ducked and dived
Like the mother in Solomon’s tale
To spare our girl
I won’t let her get cut in half ever
But it’s time to teach her some dignity
Sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t denounce our origin
Sue me, sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t denounce our origin
(No I won’t)
He took it from his father
Who took it from his father
Who took it from his father
Let’s break this curse
So it won’t fall on our daughter
And her daughter
And her daughter
Won’t let this sink into her DNA
Sue me, sue me, sue me, sue me
All you want
I won’t let you denounce our origin
Sue me, sue me, sue me, sue me
I won’t denounce our origin
No I won’t
Can’t take her suffer
So unfair
The sins of the fathers
They just fucked it all up
We had the best family
We had it all
We had it all in our hands
He just pulled us through the wringer
Narcissistic
Monday, July 29, 2019
FLANNERY O'CONNOR from “The River”
While he preached, Bevel’s eyes followed drowsily the slow circles of two silent birds revolving high in the air. Across the river there was a low red and gold grove of sassafras with hills of dark blue trees behind it and an occasional pine jutting over the skyline. Behind, in the distance, the city rose like a cluster of warts on the side of the mountain. The birds revolved downward and dropped lightly in the top of the highest pine and sat hunch-shouldered as if they were supporting the sky.
While he preached, Bevel’s eyes followed drowsily the slow circles of two silent birds revolving high in the air. Across the river there was a low red and gold grove of sassafras with hills of dark blue trees behind it and an occasional pine jutting over the skyline. Behind, in the distance, the city rose like a cluster of warts on the side of the mountain. The birds revolved downward and dropped lightly in the top of the highest pine and sat hunch-shouldered as if they were supporting the sky.
Sunday, July 28, 2019
CZESŁAW MIŁOSZ
A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death - the huge solace of thinking that for our betrayals, greed, cowardice, murders we are not going to be judged.
A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death - the huge solace of thinking that for our betrayals, greed, cowardice, murders we are not going to be judged.
Labels:
Czesław Miłosz,
freedom from religion,
mortality,
quotes,
religion kills
Saturday, July 27, 2019
THOMAS BERNHARD
Words ruin one’s thoughts, paper makes them ridiculous, and even while one is still glad to get something ruined and something ridiculous down on paper, one’s memory manages to lose hold of even this ruined and ridiculous something. Paper can turn an enormity into a triviality, an absurdity. If you look at it this way, then whatever appears in the world, by way of the spiritual world so to speak, is always a ruined thing, a ridiculous thing, which means that everything in this world is ridiculous and ruined.
Words were made to demean thought, I would even go so far as to state that words exist in order to abolish thought, and one day they will succeed one hundred percent in so doing. In any case, words (are) bringing everything down. Depression derives from words, nothing else.
Words ruin one’s thoughts, paper makes them ridiculous, and even while one is still glad to get something ruined and something ridiculous down on paper, one’s memory manages to lose hold of even this ruined and ridiculous something. Paper can turn an enormity into a triviality, an absurdity. If you look at it this way, then whatever appears in the world, by way of the spiritual world so to speak, is always a ruined thing, a ridiculous thing, which means that everything in this world is ridiculous and ruined.
Words were made to demean thought, I would even go so far as to state that words exist in order to abolish thought, and one day they will succeed one hundred percent in so doing. In any case, words (are) bringing everything down. Depression derives from words, nothing else.
Friday, July 26, 2019
JAMES JOYCE from Dubliners
A silence took possession of the little room and, under cover of it, I approached the table and tasted my sherry and then returned quietly to my chair in the corner. Eliza seemed to have fallen into a deep revery. We waited respectfully for her to break the silence: and after a long pause she said slowly:
“It was that chalice he broke…. That was the beginning of it. Of course, they say it was all right, that it contained nothing, I mean. But still…. They say it was the boy’s fault. But poor James was so nervous, God be merciful to him!”
A silence took possession of the little room and, under cover of it, I approached the table and tasted my sherry and then returned quietly to my chair in the corner. Eliza seemed to have fallen into a deep revery. We waited respectfully for her to break the silence: and after a long pause she said slowly:
“It was that chalice he broke…. That was the beginning of it. Of course, they say it was all right, that it contained nothing, I mean. But still…. They say it was the boy’s fault. But poor James was so nervous, God be merciful to him!”
Thursday, July 25, 2019
HH the XIVth DALAI LAMA
It is critical to serve others, to contribute actively to others’ well-being. I often tell practitioners that they should adopt the following principle: Regarding one’s own personal needs, there should be as little involvement or obligation as possible. But regarding service to others, there should be as many involvements and obligations as possible. This should be the ideal of a spiritual person.
It is critical to serve others, to contribute actively to others’ well-being. I often tell practitioners that they should adopt the following principle: Regarding one’s own personal needs, there should be as little involvement or obligation as possible. But regarding service to others, there should be as many involvements and obligations as possible. This should be the ideal of a spiritual person.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
FRANZ KAFKA
I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to.
But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.
I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to.
But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
HAROLD PINTER from Ashes to Ashes
But there was a man sitting in front of me, to my right. He was absolutely still throughout the whole film. He never moved, he was rigid, like a body with rigor mortis, he never laughed once, he just sat like a corpse. I moved far away from him, I moved as far away from him as I possibly could.
But there was a man sitting in front of me, to my right. He was absolutely still throughout the whole film. He never moved, he was rigid, like a body with rigor mortis, he never laughed once, he just sat like a corpse. I moved far away from him, I moved as far away from him as I possibly could.
Monday, July 22, 2019
Sunday, July 21, 2019
THE WICKED HEALTHY COOK BOOK
FREE. FROM. ANIMALS.
Chad Sarno, Derek Sarno, and David Joachim
Grand Central Life & Style, 2018
FREE. FROM. ANIMALS.
Chad Sarno, Derek Sarno, and David Joachim
Grand Central Life & Style, 2018
Labels:
Chad Sarno,
cookbooks,
cooking,
Derek Sarno,
food,
reading,
vegan life
Saturday, July 20, 2019
Friday, July 19, 2019
TOMAS TRANSTRÖMER - “A Winter Night”
The storm puts its mouth to the house
and blows to get a tone.
I toss and turn, my closed eyes
reading the storm’s text.
The child’s eyes grow wide in the dark
and the storm howls for him.
Both love the swinging lamps;
both are halfway towards speech.
The storm has the hands and wings of a child.
Far away, travellers run for cover.
The house feels its own constellation of nails
holding the walls together.
The night is calm in our rooms,
where the echoes of all footsteps rest
like sunken leaves in a pond,
but the night outside is wild.
A darker storm stands over the world.
It puts its mouth to our soul
and blows to get a tone. We are afraid
the storm will blow us empty.
The storm puts its mouth to the house
and blows to get a tone.
I toss and turn, my closed eyes
reading the storm’s text.
The child’s eyes grow wide in the dark
and the storm howls for him.
Both love the swinging lamps;
both are halfway towards speech.
The storm has the hands and wings of a child.
Far away, travellers run for cover.
The house feels its own constellation of nails
holding the walls together.
The night is calm in our rooms,
where the echoes of all footsteps rest
like sunken leaves in a pond,
but the night outside is wild.
A darker storm stands over the world.
It puts its mouth to our soul
and blows to get a tone. We are afraid
the storm will blow us empty.
CITIZEN
FARMERS:
THE BIODYNAMIC WAY TO GROW HEALTHY FOOD, BUILD THRIVING
COMMUNITIES, AND GIVE BACK TO THE EARTH
Daron Joffe, 2004
Labels:
farming,
gardening,
grown your own,
reading,
sustainability,
the future
Thursday, July 18, 2019
BONNIE 'PRINCE' BILLY - “Ebb Tide”
First the tide rushes in
Plants a kiss on the shore
Then goes out to sea
And the sea is very still once more
So I rush to your side
Like the oncoming tide
With one burning thought:
Will your arms open wide?
At last we’re face to face
And as we kiss through an embrace
I can tell, I can feel you are loved
You are really, really mine
In the rain, in the dark, in the sun
Like the tide at its ebb
I’m at peace in the web
Of your heart’s arms
Of your arms
First the tide rushes in
Plants a kiss on the shore
Then goes out to sea
And the sea is very still once more
So I rush to your side
Like the oncoming tide
With one burning thought:
Will your arms open wide?
At last we’re face to face
And as we kiss through an embrace
I can tell, I can feel you are loved
You are really, really mine
In the rain, in the dark, in the sun
Like the tide at its ebb
I’m at peace in the web
Of your heart’s arms
Of your arms
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
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