29 June 2009
28 June 2009
26 June 2009
25 June 2009
23 June 2009
21 June 2009
saw waking life on thursday for the first time since freshman year, its really strange how differently ive perceived it this time. honestly the first time i saw it i dont think i got much out of it. this time, however, its interesting to reflect on what i perceived and which parts i really related with. i think this is due to my being more acutely aware of what matters to me, allowing me to focus in on these parts.
i like this part because they discuss photography in relation to god and holiness. i often find myself caught up in these holy moments, i think thats why i am so quiet most of the time and so drawn to the mediums of photography and cinema and the constructs of buddhism for they all allow you to reflect and submerse yourself in these moments to a larger degree.
i also like this part for the way in which the woman describes her view of her life as if she is observing her life from the perspective of an old woman about to die - thats exactly how i feel about my life almost all of the time, ive never been able to explain it as clearly as she does here. i often feel like i have already lived and am about to die - i think thats why i feel this immense urgency to do things, and sometimes i feel viscerally jolted when i realize i am only 20 and can actually influence what is going on in my present surroundings.
20 June 2009
't was a long parting, but the time
for interview had come;
before the judgment-seat of God,
the last and second time
these fleshless lovers met,
a heaven in a gaze,
a heaven of heavens, the privilege
of one another's eyes.
no lifetime set on them,
apparalled as the new
unborn, except they had beheld,
born everlasting now.
was bridal e'er like this?
a paradise, the host,
and cherubim and seraphim
the most familiar guest.
// xv. resurrection by emily dickinson
17 June 2009
16 June 2009
What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
15 June 2009
11 June 2009
and you hear me from far away and my voice does
not touch you.
it seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
as all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
you are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy.
i like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
it sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly,
cooing like a dove.
and you hear me from far away, and my voice does
not reach you:
let me come to be still in your silence.
and let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
you are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.
i like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
one word then, one smile, is enough.
and i am happy, happy that it's not true.
// xv i like for you to be still. by pablo neruda
mmmm yes yes yes.
07 June 2009
excerpt from 'big sur' by jack kerouac
my summers all seemingly fall back into the beat movement