____________________
EMIL CIORAN
In every man sleeps a prophet, and when he wakes there is a little more evil in the world.
Friday, April 30, 2021
Wednesday, April 28, 2021
JØRGEN-FRANTZ JACOBSEN
____________________
It is precisely the enormous tension between sorrow and joy that makes life great. I have had my greatest moments when the sparks have flown between sorrow and joy. And death is fundamentally the brilliant relief to life. Life is great and demonic, worthy of being loved and obeyed. And the greatest thing in life is again resignation.
Tuesday, April 27, 2021
Monday, April 26, 2021
Sunday, April 25, 2021
ITALO CALVINO
Invisible Cities
____________________
The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.
Saturday, April 24, 2021
Friday, April 23, 2021
Thursday, April 22, 2021
TAHINI & TURMERIC
101 Middle Eastern Classics Made Irresistibly Vegan
101 Middle Eastern Classics Made Irresistibly Vegan
____________________
Vicky Cohen and Ruth Fox
Vicky Cohen and Ruth Fox
Labels:
books,
cookbooks,
Middle Eastern food,
reading,
Ruth Fox,
vegan cookbooks,
vegan life,
Vicky Cohen
Wednesday, April 21, 2021
MARY RUEFLE
“I Cannot Be Quiet an Hour”
____________________
“I Cannot Be Quiet an Hour”
____________________
I begin
to talk to violets.
Tears fall into my soup
and I drink them.
Sooner or later
everyone donates something.
I carry wood, stone, and
hay in my head.
The eyes of the violets
grow very wide.
At the end of the day
I reglue the broken foot
of the china shepherd
who has put up with me.
Next door, in the house
of the clock-repairer,
a hundred clocks tick
at once. He and his wife
go about their business
sleeping peacefully at night.
Tuesday, April 20, 2021
Monday, April 19, 2021
Sunday, April 18, 2021
e. e. cummings
“what if a much of a which of a wind”
____________________
what if a much of a which of a wind
gives the truth to summer’s lie;
bloodies with dizzying leaves the sun
and yanks immortal stars awry?
Blow king to beggar and queen to seem
(blow friend to fiend: blow space to time)
-when skies are hanged and oceans drowned,
the single secret will still be man
what if a keen of a lean wind flays
screaming hills with sleet and snow:
strangles valleys by ropes of thing
and stifles forests in white ago?
Blow hope to terror; blow seeing to blind
(blow pity to envy and soul to mind)
-whose hearts are mountains, roots are trees,
it’s they shall cry hello to the spring
what if a dawn of a doom of a dream
bites this universe in two,
peels forever out of his grave
and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?
Blow soon to never and never to twice
(blow life to isn’t; blow death to was)
-all nothing’s only our hugest home;
the most who die, the more we live
Saturday, April 17, 2021
Friday, April 16, 2021
Thursday, April 15, 2021
Wednesday, April 14, 2021
Tuesday, April 13, 2021
Monday, April 12, 2021
BILLY COLLINS
“Forgetfulness”
____________________
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue
or even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue
or even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
Sunday, April 11, 2021
Saturday, April 10, 2021
Friday, April 9, 2021
KOMBUCHA, KEFIR, AND BEYOND
A Fun and Flavorful Guide to Fermenting Your Own Probiotic Beverages at Home
A Fun and Flavorful Guide to Fermenting Your Own Probiotic Beverages at Home
____________________
Alex Lewin & Raquel Guajardo
Alex Lewin & Raquel Guajardo
Labels:
Alex Lewin,
books,
cookbooks,
fermentation,
Raquel Guajardo,
reading
SAM SHEPARD
Forensic & The Navigators
____________________
Doberman pinschers, German shepherds, wire-haired pointing griffons circling the place, sniffing for trouble, ready to tear out a throat on those that smell of a different turf. Do you understand? No young blond dopey muscle boys practicing jujitsu on the front lawn. We’re vulnerable as all get-out. We’ve left ourselves with our drawers down. That gives you all the room to plunge in and you have. Which means for us that we temporarily have to abandon the idea of temporarily abandoning the project and throw ourselves once again into the meat of the game. You’ve forced our hand, as it were.
Doberman pinschers, German shepherds, wire-haired pointing griffons circling the place, sniffing for trouble, ready to tear out a throat on those that smell of a different turf. Do you understand? No young blond dopey muscle boys practicing jujitsu on the front lawn. We’re vulnerable as all get-out. We’ve left ourselves with our drawers down. That gives you all the room to plunge in and you have. Which means for us that we temporarily have to abandon the idea of temporarily abandoning the project and throw ourselves once again into the meat of the game. You’ve forced our hand, as it were.
Thursday, April 8, 2021
Wednesday, April 7, 2021
Tuesday, April 6, 2021
Monday, April 5, 2021
KAZIM ALI
"Dear J."
____________________
It should be a letter
To the man inside
I could not become
Dressed in yellow
And green, the colors of spring
So I could leave death
In its chamber veined
With deep ore
I’ve no more to tell you
Last winter I climbed
The mountains of Musoorie
To hear frozen peals of bell and wire
A silver thread of sound
Sky to navel
Draws me
like the black strip
in a flower’s throat
meant to guide you in
I lie now in the winter
open-petaled beneath Sirius
I cereus bloom
It should be a letter
To the man inside
I could not become
Dressed in yellow
And green, the colors of spring
So I could leave death
In its chamber veined
With deep ore
I’ve no more to tell you
Last winter I climbed
The mountains of Musoorie
To hear frozen peals of bell and wire
A silver thread of sound
Sky to navel
Draws me
like the black strip
in a flower’s throat
meant to guide you in
I lie now in the winter
open-petaled beneath Sirius
I cereus bloom
Sunday, April 4, 2021
Labels:
antibiotics,
christian beliefs,
christians,
Easter,
fake christians,
God,
pure evil,
WhiteJesus™
Saturday, April 3, 2021
ITALO CALVINO
If on a Winter's Night a Traveler
____________________
I, too, feel the need to reread the books I have already read," a third reader says, "but at every rereading I seem to be reading a new book, for the first time. Is it I who keep changing and seeing new things of which I was not previously aware? Or is reading a construction that assumes form, assembling a great number of variables, and therefore something that cannot be repeated twice according to the same pattern?
Every time I seek to relive the emotion of a previous reading, I experience different and unexpected impressions, and do not find again those of before. At certain moments it seems to me that between one reading and the next there is a progression: in the sense, for example, of penetrating further into the spirit of the text, or of increasing my critical detachment. At other moments, on the contrary, I seem to retain the memory of the readings of a single book one next to another, enthusiastic or cold or hostile, scattered in time without a perspective, without a thread that ties them together.
The conclusion I have reached is that reading is an operation without object; or that its true object is itself. The book is an accessory aid, or even a pretext.
Friday, April 2, 2021
H. P. LOVECRAFT
____________________
Religion is still useful among the herd - that it helps their orderly conduct as nothing else could. The crude human animal is in-eradicably superstitious, and there is every biological reason why they should be.
Take away his Christian god and saints, and he will worship something else.
Thursday, April 1, 2021
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