dear monday

love,
me

sunday memory: music

my new approach

Just because you are blind, and unable to see my beauty doesn't mean it does not exist.

--Margaret Cho

why day friday

why am i still using my air conditioner in september?

why do my cats have to use the litter box right after i clean it? and it wasn't that "dirty" to begin with

why do i feel that i have made a really big mistake?

why, all of a sudden, am i using physics and grammar metaphors in my writing?

why is philip pullman such a good writer?

given all of the crap that i have been going through this year, why am i not crazy yet?

why is chicago so close and yet so far away?

mantra from james wright

suddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossomsuddenlyirealizethatifisteppedoutofmybodyiwouldbreakintoblossom

poem and image for the week...probably a re-post but i don't care

Not Waving but Drowning
by Stevie Smith


Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.





From Collected Poems of Stevie Smith by Stevie Smith, published by New Directions Publishing Corp. Copyright © 1972 by Stevie Smith.

why day friday

why do i worry about small stuff and not really the big stuff?

why do some drivers think that going slower means "safer"?

why are friendships harder to maintain the older you get?

why are some people easy to forget?

why am i easy to forget?

why isn't it worth it?

why is existentialism always such a buzz kill?

driving towards death

i have never been more acutely aware of freud’s concept of the death drive as i am now. with the dissertation writing and the job search questing….i am now beginning to see that the various exercises and tasks that i must perform as neither ultimately getting a large document written to completion nor is securing a job for the future. rather all of this “activity” is nothing more that the accumulation of highly stylized rhetorical acts in order to stop the flow of life. when i write “stop the flow of life” i am not meaning it in a suicidal way (although it can and does mean just that). I am really looking at this in a very metaphorical way. the flow of life that articulates its movement onto and through moments of stress is what i am trying to address here. life is flowing around me like a fast moving river. it is pushing me to goddess knows where…perhaps over a cliff or maybe to a lagoon. but my overall desire is to get the flowing to stop…to quiet down…to become inert and static. i want to be able to find a consistent rhythm like a gently pounding heartbeat that harmonizes itself with calm, graceful breathing. writing a dissertation and finding a job will not accomplish this. in fact, both just lead to more “unfinished” business….more frantic flowing down a river. sometimes i wonder that if i swim with the current i will find the peace and inertia that i need oscillating between within the almost imperceptible interstices of this rapid flow of water.

daemons

"why" day friday saturday...

why am i posting why day friday on saturday?

why do raspberry mochas taste so good?

why do people seem more insane the older i get?

why do i feel liberated when i probably should feel sad?

why do i feel sad when i probably should feel liberated?

why is life so paradoxical?

rooms

painting by nick patten (nickpatten.com)

Sometimes I have the feeling that we're in one room with two opposite doors and each of us holds the handle of one door, one of us flicks an eyelash and the other is already behind his door, and now the first one has but to utter a word and immediately the second one has closed his door behind him and can no longer be seen. He's sure to open the door again, for it's a room which perhaps one cannot leave. If only the first one were not precisely like the second, if he were calm, if he would only pretend not to look at the other, if he would slowly set the room in order as though it was a room like any other; but instead he does exactly the same as the other at his door, sometimes even both are behind the doors and the beautiful room is empty.

--Franz Kafka
in a letter to Milena Jesenska

the unbearable lightness of daydreaming in houses

...the house shelters daydreaming, the house proetects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace. Thought and experience are not the only things that sanction human values. The values that belong to daydreaming mark humanity in its depths. Daydreaming even has a privilege of autovalorization. It derives direct pleasure from its own being. Therefore, the places in which we have experienced daydreaming reconstitute themselves in a new daydream, and it is because our memories of former dwelling-places are relived as daydreams that these dwelling-places of the past remain in us for all time.

--Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space, page 6

that daydreams can be embodied...that they can wrap around you like a familiar home and that this home is always with you....that's what i like about this passage.

pictures by paul politis at www.paulpolitis.com