my first try in movie editing. this is ozge skiing into the fog. watch her hat. the music is by east village opera company. the song is the flower duet redux...
12.29.2005
12.27.2005
from the blind assassin
why does she keep arriving? is he some private game she's playing, is that it? he won't let her pay for anything, he won't be bought. she wants a love story out of him because girls do, or girls of her type who still expect something from life. but there must be another angle. the wish for revenge, or for punishment. women have curious ways of hurting someone else. they hurt themselves instead; or else they do it so the guy doesn't even know he's been hurt until much later. then he finds out. then his dick falls off. despite those eyes, the pure line of her throat, he catches a glimpse in her at times of something complex and smirched.
-margaret atwood
-margaret atwood
12.14.2005
from dark star safari
i told him what i felt about time exposing the truth- that time did not heal wounds, but that the passsing years gave us a vantage point from which to see the reality of things. i added that it was no fun to grow old, but that the compensation for it was that time turned your mental shit detector into a highly-calibrated instrument.
- paul theroux
- paul theroux
12.07.2005
the mouse is cute. but, the mouse has to go, said ozge, it is dirty it will make us sick. she is not here to kill the mouse so i will have to figure out another way. i remember when my first fish died i could not get him out of the tank. i sat down on the stairs and cried and i wasn’t even a kid. and now, how am i going to get the mouse, it has ears!
i am happy to have the mouse. to know i am not alone and to know he will never try to give me advice like everybody else these days. not that i don’t need it. and not that i don’t ask for it. you see, i am a little lost, just floating around somewhere in the cold winter sky. ever since that palm reader told me it is not a good year to make decisions i have given up making them altogether. she also said i should become a massage therapist.
don’t forget, you are not alone, said my dailyom email the other day. remember life is hard for everyone. but i wish i had a tiger, too. instead of a mouse. then the two of us could go sledding down the hill, and forget all our troubles.
i am happy to have the mouse. to know i am not alone and to know he will never try to give me advice like everybody else these days. not that i don’t need it. and not that i don’t ask for it. you see, i am a little lost, just floating around somewhere in the cold winter sky. ever since that palm reader told me it is not a good year to make decisions i have given up making them altogether. she also said i should become a massage therapist.
don’t forget, you are not alone, said my dailyom email the other day. remember life is hard for everyone. but i wish i had a tiger, too. instead of a mouse. then the two of us could go sledding down the hill, and forget all our troubles.
12.06.2005
Song For A Winter's Night
The lamp is burning low upon my table top,
The snow is softly falling.
The air is still in the silence of my room.
I hear your voice softly calling.
If I could only have you near,
To breathe a sigh or two,
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love.
On this winter night with you.
The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead,
My glass is almost empty.
I read again between the lines upon each page;
The words of love you sent me.
If I could know within my heart,
That you were lonely too,
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love.
Upon this winter night with you.
The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim,
The shades of night are lifting.
The morning light steals across my window pane,
Where webs of snow are drifting.
If I could only have you near,
To breathe a sigh or two,
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love,
Upon this winter night with you,
And to be once again with you.
- Gordon Lightfoot
The snow is softly falling.
The air is still in the silence of my room.
I hear your voice softly calling.
If I could only have you near,
To breathe a sigh or two,
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love.
On this winter night with you.
The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead,
My glass is almost empty.
I read again between the lines upon each page;
The words of love you sent me.
If I could know within my heart,
That you were lonely too,
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love.
Upon this winter night with you.
The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim,
The shades of night are lifting.
The morning light steals across my window pane,
Where webs of snow are drifting.
If I could only have you near,
To breathe a sigh or two,
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love,
Upon this winter night with you,
And to be once again with you.
- Gordon Lightfoot
12.05.2005
11.28.2005
When I have fears
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charact'ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace,
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
- John Keats
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charact'ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace,
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
- John Keats
i am waiting. just like everything comes everything will go. one by one. my tears will dry one by one. the fish will die, knots will come loose, my boobs will sag, my whole left shoe will become a hole itself and oh my god i will be able to take a breath and then it will start again. i will be waiting.
and why,
do i want to get in a shell
be a hermicrab
so someone picks me up
from the bottom of a sea
maybe 5000 miles away
(and i am so happy, delirious, because it was so secluded you know and slow and monotonous. anything could happen now, i'm going up up up, the sun is getting closer, where am i being taken?)
to a place, with air
but no more water
and no more food
(and oh no i cannot breathe, i am dying, i have to get out, good bye my shell, i have to go...)
then i get out, to crawl among objects unfamiliar, i feel dizzy yet i have to persist.
i am all dry, drier every second and i am getting smaller, less confident, an alien, and i shouldn't admit it
but i might be dying.
i want to be a hermicrab again.
and why,
do i want to get in a shell
be a hermicrab
so someone picks me up
from the bottom of a sea
maybe 5000 miles away
(and i am so happy, delirious, because it was so secluded you know and slow and monotonous. anything could happen now, i'm going up up up, the sun is getting closer, where am i being taken?)
to a place, with air
but no more water
and no more food
(and oh no i cannot breathe, i am dying, i have to get out, good bye my shell, i have to go...)
then i get out, to crawl among objects unfamiliar, i feel dizzy yet i have to persist.
i am all dry, drier every second and i am getting smaller, less confident, an alien, and i shouldn't admit it
but i might be dying.
i want to be a hermicrab again.
11.23.2005
The Real Story of the First Thanksgiving
By Benjamin Franklin (1785)
“There is a tradition that in the planting of New England, the first settlers met with many difficulties and hardships, as is generally the case when a civiliz’d people attempt to establish themselves in a wilderness country. Being so piously dispos’d, they sought relief from heaven by laying their wants and distresses before the Lord in frequent set days of fasting and prayer. Constant meditation and discourse on these subjects kept their minds gloomy and discontented, and like the children of Israel there were many dispos’d to return to the Egypt which persecution had induc’d them to abandon.
“At length, when it was proposed in the Assembly to proclaim another fast, a farmer of plain sense rose and remark’d that the inconveniences they suffer’d, and concerning which they had so often weary’d heaven with their complaints, were not so great as they might have expected, and were diminishing every day as the colony strengthen’d; that the earth began to reward their labour and furnish liberally for their subsistence; that their seas and rivers were full of fish, the air sweet, the climate healthy, and above all, they were in the full enjoyment of liberty, civil and religious.
“He therefore thought that reflecting and conversing on these subjects would be more comfortable and lead more to make them contented with their situation; and that it would be more becoming the gratitude they ow’d to the divine being, if instead of a fast they should proclaim a thanksgiving. His advice was taken, and from that day to this, they have in every year observ’d circumstances of public felicity sufficient to furnish employment for a Thanksgiving Day, which is therefore constantly ordered and religiously observed.”
“There is a tradition that in the planting of New England, the first settlers met with many difficulties and hardships, as is generally the case when a civiliz’d people attempt to establish themselves in a wilderness country. Being so piously dispos’d, they sought relief from heaven by laying their wants and distresses before the Lord in frequent set days of fasting and prayer. Constant meditation and discourse on these subjects kept their minds gloomy and discontented, and like the children of Israel there were many dispos’d to return to the Egypt which persecution had induc’d them to abandon.
“At length, when it was proposed in the Assembly to proclaim another fast, a farmer of plain sense rose and remark’d that the inconveniences they suffer’d, and concerning which they had so often weary’d heaven with their complaints, were not so great as they might have expected, and were diminishing every day as the colony strengthen’d; that the earth began to reward their labour and furnish liberally for their subsistence; that their seas and rivers were full of fish, the air sweet, the climate healthy, and above all, they were in the full enjoyment of liberty, civil and religious.
“He therefore thought that reflecting and conversing on these subjects would be more comfortable and lead more to make them contented with their situation; and that it would be more becoming the gratitude they ow’d to the divine being, if instead of a fast they should proclaim a thanksgiving. His advice was taken, and from that day to this, they have in every year observ’d circumstances of public felicity sufficient to furnish employment for a Thanksgiving Day, which is therefore constantly ordered and religiously observed.”
11.14.2005
rating life
i just took this test that is supposed to rate different aspects of your life as well as your overall life quality. i am not so sure i agree with it though as my worse category ended up being the friends/family one! have i been deceiving myself for so long thinking my relationship with both are what keep me going???
| This Is My Life, Rated | |
| Life: |  7.3 |
| Mind: |  7.7 |
| Body: | 7.5 |
| Spirit: | 6.8 |
| Friends/Family: |  5.1 |
| Love: |  6.2 |
| Finance: | 7.7 |
| Take the Rate My Life Quiz | |
11.10.2005
11.09.2005
10.21.2005
i have four walls around me i have pictures of a window that opens up to the outside. i listen to the radio and i sit here wanting to get out but i don’t know where to go. wherever i go i reach wall that surrounds me. I hit the wall and the wall hits me back and with a thump i go down. i get heavier and heavier and think that i will soon fall through the floor. i have fish that stare at me, every month it is a different fish and towards the end of the month the eyes of the fish lose their brightness and you know they would smell if they were really here. the fish change and I change and i hope that they won’t die as they always do. so i am sitting, there is no use standing up.
10.04.2005
moon again...
ROMEO
Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--
JULIET
O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--
JULIET
O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
To the Moon
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,—
And ever-changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
-Shelley
Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,—
And ever-changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
-Shelley
9.20.2005
donate to noah's wish
...and help all the animals left behind. they are all so cute and need all the food and love after losing their owners. you can make a donation thru paypal.
Noah's Wish Hurricane Katrina Efforts
Noah's Wish Hurricane Katrina Efforts
9.19.2005
Abraham Lincoln's Favorite Poem
came across while reading "With Malice Toward None," Lincoln's biography...
Mortality
By William Knox
Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave
He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.
The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around, and together be laid;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie.
The infant a mother attended and loved;
The mother that infant's affection who proved;
The husband, that mother and infant who blest,--
Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.
The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure, -- her triumphs are by;
And the memory of those who loved her and praised,
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.
The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne,
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn,
The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap,
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep,
The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
The saint, who enjoyed the communion of Heaven,
The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven,
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
So the multitude goes -- like the flower or the weed
That withers away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes -- even those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.
For we are the same our fathers have been;
We see the same sights our fathers have seen;
We drink the same stream, we view the same sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.
The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think;
From the death we are shrinking, our fathers would shrink;
To the life we are clinging, they also would cling; --
But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.
They loved -- but the story we cannot unfold;
They scorned -- but the heart of the haughty is cold;
They grieved -- but no wail from their slumber will come;
They joyed -- but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
They died -- ay, they died; -- we things that are now,
That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
And make in their dwellings a transient abode;
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.
Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;
And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.
'Tis the wink of an eye -- 'tis the draught of a breath--
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud:--
Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
9.09.2005
BEN HER BAHAR AŞIK OLURUM
Damarlarımda yine aşk var
Gözlerim yine bir manalı
Başladı güneşli yağmurlar
Islandı umudumun saçları
Kırılan dallar gibiyim
Ben her bahar dirilirim
Gizli bir kaynaktır içim
Kendime bir yol bulurum
Ben her bahar aşık olurum
Rüzgar olur yağmur olurum
Filizlenir anılarda gururum
Taşar içimden ruhum
Gönlümde sönen ateşin
Küllerini savururum
Kalbimdeki acelenin
Peşinde ben kaybolurum
-Sezen Aksu
Gözlerim yine bir manalı
Başladı güneşli yağmurlar
Islandı umudumun saçları
Kırılan dallar gibiyim
Ben her bahar dirilirim
Gizli bir kaynaktır içim
Kendime bir yol bulurum
Ben her bahar aşık olurum
Rüzgar olur yağmur olurum
Filizlenir anılarda gururum
Taşar içimden ruhum
Gönlümde sönen ateşin
Küllerini savururum
Kalbimdeki acelenin
Peşinde ben kaybolurum
-Sezen Aksu
8.29.2005
7.26.2005
Bugun Pazar
Bugun beni ilk defa gunese cikardilar.
Ve ben omrumde ilk defa gokyuzunun
bu kadar benden uzak
bu kadar mavi
bu kadar genis olduguna sasarak
kimildamadan durdum.
Sonra saygiyla topraga oturdum,
dayadim sirtimi duvara.
Bu anda ne dusmek dalgalara,
bu anda ne kavga, ne hurriyet, ne karim.
Toprak, gunes ve ben...
Bahtiyarim...
-Nazim Hikmet
Today is Sunday
Today for the first time, they took me out into the sun.
And for the first time in my life, aghast
I stood there wondering
how the sky could be so far from me
so blue
and so vast.
Then with respect, I sat on the ground,
leaned my back against the wall.
Not a care about diving into the waves
Or about strife or freedom or my wife.
The soil, the sun and me...
I feel blissful.
Bugun beni ilk defa gunese cikardilar.
Ve ben omrumde ilk defa gokyuzunun
bu kadar benden uzak
bu kadar mavi
bu kadar genis olduguna sasarak
kimildamadan durdum.
Sonra saygiyla topraga oturdum,
dayadim sirtimi duvara.
Bu anda ne dusmek dalgalara,
bu anda ne kavga, ne hurriyet, ne karim.
Toprak, gunes ve ben...
Bahtiyarim...
-Nazim Hikmet
Today is Sunday
Today for the first time, they took me out into the sun.
And for the first time in my life, aghast
I stood there wondering
how the sky could be so far from me
so blue
and so vast.
Then with respect, I sat on the ground,
leaned my back against the wall.
Not a care about diving into the waves
Or about strife or freedom or my wife.
The soil, the sun and me...
I feel blissful.
7.20.2005
We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale about the lips, and answer to inquiries and say, "Oh, nothing!" Pride helps us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our own hurts - not to hurt others.
- from Middlemarch, by George Eliot
- from Middlemarch, by George Eliot
7.15.2005
excerpts from Eric Hoffer's notebooks (from Harper's July 2005 issue)
WHAT OTHERS THINK
It is not good for our efforts at self-realization to know the opinions other people have of us. It is difficult or perhaps impossible to be ourselves if we are known. 1951
BROODING
I am more and more convinced that taking life overseriously is a frivolous thing. There is an affected self-dramatizing in the brooding over one's prospects and destiny. The trifling attitude of an Ecclesiastes is essentially sober and serious. It is in closer touch with the so-called eternal truths than are the most penetrating metaphysical probing and the most sensitive poetic insights. 1952
PLENTY OF TIME
The chief difference between me and others is that I have plenty of time-not only because I am without a multitude of responsibilities and without daily tasks, which demand attention: But also because I am basically without ambition. Neither the present nor the future has claims on me. 1952
THINKING AND WAITING
Thinking with me is like looking for a person whose address I don't know. I stand on a street corner all day long waiting for him to pass by. Certainly there are more efficient ways of locating a person whose address you don't know. But if you have a whole lifetime to wait and enjoy watching things go by, then waiting on street corners is as good a method as any. If you don't find the person you are looking for, you might meet someone else. 1953
THERE ARE BUT A FEW YEARS
The most important point is-and remains-not to take oneself seriously. There is no past, and, certainly, no future. There are but a few years-ten at the most. You pass your days as best you can, doing as little harm as possible. Let the desires be few and treat expectations as weeds. You read, scribble as the spirit moves you, hear some new music, see every week the few people you are attached to. Again: guard yourself, above all, against self-dramatization, a feeling of importance, and the sprouting of expectations. 1954
Here is "Passionate State of the Mind" by Hoffer, from Harper's Magazine 1954
WHAT OTHERS THINK
It is not good for our efforts at self-realization to know the opinions other people have of us. It is difficult or perhaps impossible to be ourselves if we are known. 1951
BROODING
I am more and more convinced that taking life overseriously is a frivolous thing. There is an affected self-dramatizing in the brooding over one's prospects and destiny. The trifling attitude of an Ecclesiastes is essentially sober and serious. It is in closer touch with the so-called eternal truths than are the most penetrating metaphysical probing and the most sensitive poetic insights. 1952
PLENTY OF TIME
The chief difference between me and others is that I have plenty of time-not only because I am without a multitude of responsibilities and without daily tasks, which demand attention: But also because I am basically without ambition. Neither the present nor the future has claims on me. 1952
THINKING AND WAITING
Thinking with me is like looking for a person whose address I don't know. I stand on a street corner all day long waiting for him to pass by. Certainly there are more efficient ways of locating a person whose address you don't know. But if you have a whole lifetime to wait and enjoy watching things go by, then waiting on street corners is as good a method as any. If you don't find the person you are looking for, you might meet someone else. 1953
THERE ARE BUT A FEW YEARS
The most important point is-and remains-not to take oneself seriously. There is no past, and, certainly, no future. There are but a few years-ten at the most. You pass your days as best you can, doing as little harm as possible. Let the desires be few and treat expectations as weeds. You read, scribble as the spirit moves you, hear some new music, see every week the few people you are attached to. Again: guard yourself, above all, against self-dramatization, a feeling of importance, and the sprouting of expectations. 1954
Here is "Passionate State of the Mind" by Hoffer, from Harper's Magazine 1954
7.12.2005
Alone
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then - in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
- Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then - in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
- Edgar Allan Poe
7.05.2005
today's afternoon
in the middle of the day, my mind wanders away for a walk in the humid sky. i reach for it, try to grab it but it is gone and it has taken my heart with it. i know that only some love can fill my body that is left crouching over a desk. otherwise it will collapse. but people are strange. they will make fun of me. and people change. they will not come to me.
you listen to a song, you look at the past and feel sad but today is no different than any day in the past. why don't you think about today as much as you think about that day. and maybe reach over, forgetting how far you might be, to catch my heart and bring it back to me?
you listen to a song, you look at the past and feel sad but today is no different than any day in the past. why don't you think about today as much as you think about that day. and maybe reach over, forgetting how far you might be, to catch my heart and bring it back to me?
6.28.2005
puerto rico, six years later
the beach was crowded. it stretched into the misty rocks beyond which we couldn't see. rays of light travelled through the humid air turning the sea a bluish gray, the sand clay. from where we stood it was not real. it was too damp. too unknown. but with a smile on our faces, we melted into their space. the mess slowly untangled itself into huddles of entire families, groups of friends, children floating nearby, lovers basking under the sun. they waved at us. 'look this is puerto rico, this is me, sitting in my chair, half-soaked in the sea, with a medella in my hand, gossiping with my curly-haired friend'. doesn't she look like tina turner, i said to you. 'let's run!' the little girl said pulling at her friend, and they ran like any two friends, at any point in time, at any place, their hands clasped tightly together.
we made our way back, leaving the beach behind, lonely. we had a wedding to attend.
isabela, puerto rico
taken by my great best photographer in the world friend gorkita
we made our way back, leaving the beach behind, lonely. we had a wedding to attend.
isabela, puerto rico
taken by my great best photographer in the world friend gorkita
Ode 314
Those who don't feel this Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change,
let them sleep.
This Love is beyond the study of theology,
that old trickery and hypocrisy.
If you want to improve your mind that way,
sleep on.
I've given up on my brain.
I've torn the cloth to shreds and thrown it away.
If you're not completely naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words around you,
and sleep.
- Rumi
Those who don't feel this Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change,
let them sleep.
This Love is beyond the study of theology,
that old trickery and hypocrisy.
If you want to improve your mind that way,
sleep on.
I've given up on my brain.
I've torn the cloth to shreds and thrown it away.
If you're not completely naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words around you,
and sleep.
- Rumi
3.29.2005
please jump
hair and life messy, mind lost in obscure thoughts inspired by the dream i had last night when i was younger and running around with extreme emotions. now i can keep a secret for a year, even from my closest friends, i can put the shades down and pretend nobody is in. make a cup of coffee and a new myself to offer to people as i stand back and see how they like it. or go to bed as a different person every night and keep a light heart. i used to wonder, how much more can one's heart expand? now i can take all of you in and give a strong hug but will it last forever. i love you for being funny and you for the soft look in the eyes and you for the laugh and you for the bitterness and you for being there all my life and you for your childishness, you for the ever squeezable cheeks and on and on i can go, and list the countless things you all do that make me happy that make me love you. then it rains and none of this makes sense. i get stuck. on a piece of food that the waiter forgot to wipe off, a strand of hair that fell on my shirt, drop of yesterday's tea on my desk. obsessing on the details, i forget all that i loved and i become all that i think about. i think of the things not known, things that i let weigh me down because i let them lift me up in the first place. i am more mellow but i do hurt. and i am only so happy when it is the sunniest day.
3.28.2005
night conversation
as warm as me. as strong as me. as tearful and funny as me.
one frog smiling and saying 'hey take these from me, a bunch of presents that will make you you'
one cat purring while looking into my eyes
he knows
what is happening on dreary days like this
when i feel completely disconnected
not wanting to go home, not wanting to stay here.
and so i give the presents away
i am so loved so lovely
yet i still feel i am hanging by a thread.
one frog smiling and saying 'hey take these from me, a bunch of presents that will make you you'
one cat purring while looking into my eyes
he knows
what is happening on dreary days like this
when i feel completely disconnected
not wanting to go home, not wanting to stay here.
and so i give the presents away
i am so loved so lovely
yet i still feel i am hanging by a thread.
2.25.2005
some Rilke, though we're far from autumn
Herbsttag
Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr gross.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren lass die Winde los.
Befiehl den letzten Fruchten voll zu sein;
gieb innen noch zwei sudlichere Tage,
drange sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Susse in den schweren Wein.
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blatter treiben.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke, Paris, Sept. 21, 1902
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.
Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell, "The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke" (Random House)
Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr gross.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren lass die Winde los.
Befiehl den letzten Fruchten voll zu sein;
gieb innen noch zwei sudlichere Tage,
drange sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Susse in den schweren Wein.
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blatter treiben.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke, Paris, Sept. 21, 1902
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.
Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell, "The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke" (Random House)
2.05.2005
Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh
Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)
(Translation by Milan Kundera)
There is peace,
In all treetops
You will hear
Hardly a breath.
Birds in the woods are silent.
Just wait, soon
You too will rest.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)
(Translation by Milan Kundera)
Über allen Gipfeln
Ist Ruh,
In allen Wipfeln
Spürest du
Kaum einen Hauch;
Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde.
Warte nur, balde
Ruhest du auch.
There is peace,
In all treetops
You will hear
Hardly a breath.
Birds in the woods are silent.
Just wait, soon
You too will rest.
like night and day
the night is so cool, so much less demanding than the day. when it's dark i am not tired anymore, there is a strange energy that rushes in and does not leave until the next morning. when i have to wake up.
the sun must really be mad. because the day is not his anymore. our days are owned by others who pay us, and the sun has lost all his children to offices, cubes, and all the other gray matter inside concrete buildings. the sun does not have any money to buy us back, all it has is free energy but for the needs of our fast-paced life, its energy is no good.
when will the night cease to be fun.
the sun must really be mad. because the day is not his anymore. our days are owned by others who pay us, and the sun has lost all his children to offices, cubes, and all the other gray matter inside concrete buildings. the sun does not have any money to buy us back, all it has is free energy but for the needs of our fast-paced life, its energy is no good.
when will the night cease to be fun.
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