Emily Dickinson, From Her Poem Titled "1188," Featured In The Emergency Poet

sunday downpour

I was once foolish enough to believe knowledge would clarify, but some things are so gauzed behind layers of syntax and semantics, behind days and hours, names forgotten, salvaged and shed, that simply knowing the wound exists does nothing to reveal it.

I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess what I mean is that sometimes I don’t know what or who we are. Days I feel like a human being, while other days I feel more like a sound. I touch the world not as myself but as an echo of who I was. Can you hear me yet? Can you read me?

—Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

— Elena Ferrante, from “The Days of Abandonment.”

But when Kafka said Even in my strong times I wasn't very strong it broke something in me.

i smell so good you gonna moan a little when u hug me

“However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you think. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, difficult as it is...

You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”

~ Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

-Pablo Neruda

November mood

succession is a great show

The year I went to the movies