Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.
life
Thoughts on SigrĂșn and Sigyn.
Love conquers nothing.
Thinking makes it so.
Automat, Edward Hopper. For years Iâve wanted to live according to everyone elseâs morals. Iâve forced myself to live like everyone else, to look like everyone else. Iâve said what was necessary to join together, even when I felt separate. And after all of this, catastrophe came. I must rebuild a truth â after having … Continue reading Thinking makes it so.
The Deep Despair/Hope of Holidays Alone
Emilyâs first End of Line post!
Meditations on the consensual hallucination.
Everyone is happy on social media. I know I promised to finish my thought on Kundera, and I will! I promise. Iâve gotten sidetracked by a series of conversations Iâve had on social media, however, as one does. I donât think Iâve actually finished a thought since I joined Twitter. Itâs quite embarrassing for someone … Continue reading Meditations on the consensual hallucination.
Levity.
I have no idea where I got this picture but I love it. But is heaviness truly deplorable and lightness splendid?The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the manâs body. … Continue reading Levity.
This is the way the world ends.
Datta: what have we given?My friend, blood shaking my heartThe awful daring of a momentâs surrenderWhich an age of prudence can never retractBy this, and this only, we have existedWhich is not to be found in our obituariesThe Wasteland, TS Eliot. I have a hard time writing about faith. I grew up Baptist, a pastorâs … Continue reading This is the way the world ends.
This wave.
The Tempest. J.W. Waterhouse / 1916 How do we learn to be still? To allow people the grace to ebb and flow around us without reacting to their emotional whirlpools, their tempests, or their doldrums? Donât look at me â I have no idea. I am a reactor. I become a tempest in response to … Continue reading This wave.
Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered.
Come, take my hand. Whatâs done cannot be undone.Lady Macbeth. Ophelia, Waterhouse. âWhat do you want to be when you grow up?â In grade school I wanted to be an actress, until my mom spent several panicked hours lecturing me on the odds against me ever becoming famous, the inability to support oneself on the … Continue reading Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered.
And let my cry come unto thee.
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool. âThe surface glittered out of heart of light,And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very … Continue reading And let my cry come unto thee.
