Log in

“Journeying inward, into the forest-dark ember, led by crystal light,
the voicing of whales and ancient souls passed, we embarked;
slipping with muddy foothold, on a destination-less ride through
darkened waters filled with starry-eyed daughters. We have had
many guides, some dead ones, some alive, some sisters with names
pronounceable, others, just an inkling, the last heat of summer, seeping
up, out of the evening sunned soil in september. We close our eyes,
to hear the decoration, a burnt out corn field, a sad place to remember,
the story of a heartless crow, his countless cackles haunting, his mission,
misogyny. We dual waves, heavy laden with salt, of foisted female identity,
underlying, trinity is crying, she mourns so sweetly. Heavy on our hearts,
the weight of time; the earth who lost her balance
and fell into the snowy depths of industrial mucus.”
– CocoRosie
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
T.S. Eliot


If this indeed is the voice of Oscar Wilde-the man I venerate as a brilliant author and scholar of decadence, I shall impale myself for the mortification.

silence broken by propaganda

Get free stickers at peta2.com

I have done it again...

...One year in every ten
I manage it--

Year 20.

Mmm. The slipping away of my youth.

Darkness there and nothing more...

Yesterday; I knocked on Edgar Allan Poe’s door.

Answer there was none.
Alexander proposed!

I am engaged!


Worst. Valentines Day. Ever.

"I didn't get you anything," The Boy™ explains with a self satisfied simper of a smile, "'cause you told me not to."

The day women are taken at their word is a sad day indeed. This is that cheerless day. Moment of silence, please.
Modern Love--John Keats

AND what is love? It is a doll dress'd up
For idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle;
A thing of soft misnomers, so divine
That silly youth doth think to make itself
Divine by loving, and so goes on
Yawning and doting a whole summer long,
Till Miss's comb is made a pearl tiara,
And common Wellingtons turn Romeo boots;
Then Cleopatra lives at number seven,
And Antony resides in Brunswick Square.
Fools! if some passions high have warm'd the world,
If Queens and Soldiers have play'd deep for hearts,
It is no reason why such agonies
Should be more common than the growth of weeds.
Fools! make me whole again that weighty pearl
The Queen of Egypt melted, and I'll say
That ye may love in spite of beaver hats.

I adore this poem.<3
"Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, the moon only when it is cloudless? To long for the moon while looking on the rain, to lower the blinds and be unaware of the passing of the spring - these are even more deeply moving. Branches about to blossom or gardens strewn with faded flowers are worthier of our admiration...People commonly regret that the cherry blossoms scatter or that the moon sinks in the sky, and this is natural; but only an exceptionally insensitive man would say "This branch and that branch have lost their blossoms. There is nothing worth seeing now."

In all things, it is the beginnings and ends that are interesting. Does the love between men and women refer only to moments when they are in each other's arms? The man who grieves over a love affair broken off before it was fulfilled, who bewails empty vows, who spends long autumn nights alone, who lets his thoughts wander to distant skies, who yearns for the past in a dilapidated house - such a man truly knows what love means. The moon that appears close to dawn after we have long waited for it moves us more profoundly that the full moon shining cloudless over a thousand leagues. And how incomparably lovely is the moon, almost greenish in its light, when seen through the tops of the cedars deep in the mountains, or when it hides for a moment behind clustering clouds during a sudden shower! The sparkle on hickory or white-oak leaves seemingly wet with moonlight strikes one to the heart...

And are we to look at the moon and the cherry blossoms with our eyes alone? How much more evocative and pleasing it is to think about the spring without stirring from the house, to dream of the moonlight though we remain in our room!"

From Yoshida Kenko's Essays in Idleness.