January 2011
20 posts
He stood on the corner pacing back and forth...
December 2010
56 posts
3 tags
“Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80’s movies? I want...”
– Easy A (2010)
Loving madly, passionately, feverishly can be...
Haiku: Fake
Inhibitors here,
Forgetting how to be real
Banish all facade.
4 tags
“No, no, because she’s a mental adolescent, and being romantic, she has a...”
– Vicky Cristina Barcelona
5 tags
“Jonathan Trager, prominent television producer for ESPN, died last night from...”
– Serendipity
1 tag
6 tags
4 tags
Yur kinda cute, I think. A note written to my...
Yur kinda cute, I think. In an endearing kind of way, where I can’t even spell ‘you’re’ correctly cause ‘yur’ most appropriately personifies my feelings for you. It seems so elementary, this sensation I’m feeling. I want to sing! I want to shout! Not really, but I’m sure if I were more excited about you those are all the things I would do. It would...
“I remember thinking: “Water, water. I wanna be like water. Strong enough...”
Words wash up/You
odovetail:
Proofreading in love:
navigate salt-water meaning,
clutch your paper lungs.
Oh my god. This is all a facade.
Oh my god. This is all a facade. Didn’t you know? These glasses that I’m wearing, they’re not really real. This bag that’s on my back, I bought at a grocery store. These words that I’m spouting, I don’t really believe. These shoes, these pants, this shirt! My god, this shirt. It’s not even a real shirt ( I made it out of hemp). This smile, of apparent...
“You are a mermaid and I’m drowning.”
– What Russell Brand wrote to his wife Katy Perry, on their first date.
4 tags
Confession: Listening to the last 1 1/2 minutes of...
“I feel that life is divided into the horrible and the miserable. That’s...”
– Annie Hall (1977)
He wrote his way into my heart. And I’m a damn...
“Boo to all you haters. Yay for people who make art. Yay for people who can write...”
This is my empty jar of lament.
3 tags
“Lover, please do not fall to your knees. It’s not like I believe in...”
Before I met you I was blind.
Screaming and shouting gets us nowhere, but we do...
Screaming and shouting gets us nowhere, but we do it anyway. Hysterical, she screams. This is a psych ward, we’re dealing with helpless patients who are unable to help themselves. Wanting to leave, but her weeping asks us to stay. So we stay, pushing back her hair, handing her tissues. His infidelity has broken her. Unable to grasp with the reality that after 20 years of marriage, he has the...
“the writing of some
men
is like a vast bridge
that carries you
over
the...”
– Charles Bukowski
Crumpled soul trampled by a lack of forwardness...
Crumpled soul trampled by a lack of forwardness lay in regret of what could have been. Damn, the intuition of boldness. Stepping his best foot forward he tries to grab her waist before they both fall into the dark hollow abyss of anonymity. This is innocence at its peak: no commitment, no obligation. We move as one but leave as two. The perfect harmony. She marches forward in full gear – guarding...
2 tags
Soliloquy of the heart's discontent can lead to...
Soliloquy of the heart’s discontent can lead to minute tenderness of bitter anguish. Hark, the lark sings in the meadow but I am not convinced it is a cry of affection. Me in my Rococo-style dress, imitating Fragonard’s The Swing. All pastel-y with shades of pink and cream, my hair wound up in a 3 feet tall wig. I am a fraud, a disgusting representation of a woman in love. Instead of...
6 Yr. old Chinese Boy Lives Alone →
youmightfindyourself:
A six-year-old HIV carrier, has been living alone since his parents died of AIDS. The boy, known as Ah Long, does his own washing, cooking, studying and raises chickens. He lives in his parents’ house at the foothill village of Malu Mountain in Liuzhou in Guangxi Province, China. Ah Long has an 84-year-old grandmother, who visits him quite frequently and cooks for...
Too late
Too late for eyes to droop, asleep
Too early for eyes to open, awake
Stuck in between, drab distance
suffocating us - sitting in silence
instead and waiting for the
snowy sunrise.
I fucking hate snowfall
I fucking hate snowfall. The darting flakes spitting into my eyes the wind pulling my hair in multiple directions my shoes slipping barely sticking on the thick icy pavement. The blistering cold is almost too much to handle my fingers are shivering in discontent my legs twitching in icy resentment. Bundled in thick wooly cloths that I can barely breathe in Nylon suffocating me my...
Confession
I get really sad every time I get back late on a Saturday night and I see the really old guy working the RSA job. A lot of people snicker at him for signing people in so slowly or people always try to sneak past him, thinking they wouldn’t be caught.
“San Francisco, with its unapologetic nostalgia for — and its ongoing celebration...”
Excerpt
The residue of this man, this supposed romantic, has clouded
my judgment and now every gentle-man who even shows
a hint of interest
only walks away from me cupping a drab, empty jar of lament.
The question people ask is always the same,
are you a romantic, a sudden spotlight that’s always
too deliberate, too frank.