durstig geist

Build in yourself a tower of righteousness. Plant in yourself a garden of things you find to be true and beautiful. Protect your ideals and do not allow life to dash them, as it will try. Remember the things that you find stunning and internalize them; let them consume you and you will begin to reflect those very things yourself.

you are tired, i think

you are tired (i think)

you are tired,
(i think)
of the always puzzle of living and doing;
and so am I.

come with me, then,
and we’ll leave it far and far away-
(only you and I, understand!)

you have played,
(i think)
and broke the toys you were fondest of,
and are a little tired now;
tired of things that break, and-
just tired.
so am i.

but I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
and I knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
open to me!
for I will show you places nobody knows,
and, if you like,
the perfect places of Sleep.

ah, come with me!
i’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
that floats forever and a day;
i’ll sing you the jacinth song
of the probable stars;
i will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
until I find the Only Flower,
which shall keep (i think) your little heart
while the moon comes out of the sea.

-e.e. cummings

salvador

"I like the stars. It’s the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they’re always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend … I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds don’t last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. But I can pretend."

Destruction, Sandman; Brief Lives

do you remember the last time you kissed me? in that little hotel, when you thought everyone else was sleeping. maybe you thought i was sleeping too, but i wasn't. i could feel your doubt. maybe we could rent a room again. are we really going to go to oaxaca? i want to go. remember when we were in the bus and we watched all the little villages go by? and i showed you all the pictures of my family. and the way the light fell on our bed in the morning? this city is breaking my heart. don't act like there isn't a huge space between us. maybe we could go to lebanon on a secret trip.

north, damen & milwaukee

There
is
ONLY
SO MUCH VALUE
in

THINKING
about

THINGS

you
can't

CONTROL

the best way is to not fight it, just go.
chuck palahlniuk

indian summer

There's something heavy in the air, the kind of heaviness that you feel every time you inhale or try to move that settles onto your skin like an invisible sheet. The charged feeling you notice when you walk into a church in the middle of a mass, as if all the energy of the place is lingering around you. You breathe in and it catches you too. I guess it's indian summer, and it's as pervaded with humidity from the fleeting heat as it is with the evening chill of autumn. The kind of air that can't figure out if it wants to go back to what was before, or continue on, knowing winter is next. It's full of conflicted emotion and anxiety, as someone who thought they wanted to leave but then hesitated viscerally at the door.

you captivate me so

can i read everything you've ever thought? it would be a book i would re-read until the pages fell apart. can i know you forever? i'll breathe you in.

we lit our nightly fire

fre·net·ic/frəˈnetik/Adjective: Fast and energetic in a rather wild and uncontrolled way: "a frenetic pace of activity."


"I think I'm just searching for answers, and some kind of direction," he says. "I guess I always have been."

Jason Schwartzman

I put it around my neck... it became a string of lovely pearls, each with a moon inside. My room then was full of moonlight as if the full moon had found its way in through the open window.

Mirabai

verano eterno

there were some people and moments with beauty so striking that i know i will never, ever forget them.

drench

you've become a fixation for me and i'd let your skin drench and consume me like the south american sun. would you feed my hunger with your own? we could look at all the rooftops in la paz, reflecting the southern hemisphere rays and all the promises that were made and forgotten that you can't see when you're farther up. it looks as perfect as when you watch a city fade away from an airplane window and you can't see the human drama permeating the streets; all the houses lined up like terracotta crayons in a box. we're so far above it all now. the thought catches my breath in my throat- i can barely breathe in this city and all the noise in my head is so much quieter. we're so high up, no pressure to keep us here and coming down will ring me out.

you think it's wrong for me? that it's impermanent and won't sustain. that's been the nature of most things i've ever had; coming and going with the fleeting intensity of a summer sunburn. it's all fervor and desire. for a while it makes it better- like sleeping on the ground or staying up all night. i've been reading too much henry miller.

we are so far from where we were, from where i'm from. i'm with you and they've lost us anyway, like hemmingway and all his friends.

oaxaca

la vida es como la espuma, por eso hay que darse como el mar.

life is like the surf, so give yourself away like the sea.

y tu mamá también

pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly i saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

and i, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
i wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

pablo neruda