Let's let this fear bring us together.
Next time you're scared tell someone, anyone. Walk up to a complete stranger and tell them why you're scared and ask them why they're scared.
When you're watching the news and your heart tries to run away from your body turn to the person you're with and tell them how much you love them. Or call someone.
It's okay to be afraid, but don't let it interfere with your ability to see what's beautiful all around you. Let it help you perceive more of it. Let it help you create it, as much as you can.
We need something to fight this fear with. This is all we really have.
28.4.09
No thinking for a little while.
But it's hard to find friends at four in the morning
And I'm walking barefoot trough a field of broken glass and cigarette butts
And The only two people that will talk to me are Jeff Mangum and Anne Frank
And the place I'm living smells like a curry and also cinnamon
And I wish the stars were brighter.
Right now my love of modernism feels lie a sham.
I need salvation, or at least a resolution.
But it turns out that's all you can't buy at four in the morning, that and people to hangout with.
My mind is being so singular, so insistent. The birds are all singing now and it can't possibly be for me, they are singing for another barefoot meanderer who's being led by god knows what. Lonliness maybe? They're hoping for something to fill their mind with, their revelations are echoing and they feel empty and cold. But these birds aren't for me. I still feel empty.
Why do I keep checking my email at this time?
An overwhelming urge to not give up now, but no clue about what I'm working towards.
This is the opposite of life affirming. My body will fall into the ground if only I'd let it. Or float towards the sky.
Dreaming of a simpler time that never was.
And I'm walking barefoot trough a field of broken glass and cigarette butts
And The only two people that will talk to me are Jeff Mangum and Anne Frank
And the place I'm living smells like a curry and also cinnamon
And I wish the stars were brighter.
Right now my love of modernism feels lie a sham.
I need salvation, or at least a resolution.
But it turns out that's all you can't buy at four in the morning, that and people to hangout with.
My mind is being so singular, so insistent. The birds are all singing now and it can't possibly be for me, they are singing for another barefoot meanderer who's being led by god knows what. Lonliness maybe? They're hoping for something to fill their mind with, their revelations are echoing and they feel empty and cold. But these birds aren't for me. I still feel empty.
Why do I keep checking my email at this time?
An overwhelming urge to not give up now, but no clue about what I'm working towards.
This is the opposite of life affirming. My body will fall into the ground if only I'd let it. Or float towards the sky.
Dreaming of a simpler time that never was.
Our shadows.
I am melting into the earth:
never felt so whole
The day after the second time I burned to the ground, a pigeon crawled to me and handed me a map, I haven't the slightest idea what is on it to but I keep it close to my heart and it leads me to where I must go, where the treasure is to be found.
Don'tbreathout.Don'tbreathout.Don'tbreathout.
Don't turn around.
You have to breath out.
You can't help but lose everything.
Take your next step.
Your left foot makes you larger.
Your right foot makes you smaller.
And the flowers will sing, but only if you're polite.
And stay quiet.
And listen.
I can't feel my foot anymore, I'm starting to doubt it's mine anyways, maybe it belongs to everyone, to everything.
My foot.
Not my foot.
Not mine.
The grinded glass makes our eyes sparkle.
I can't stay and this isn't for me
though I don't have the slightest idea what is for me
Don't wait. Not for me, only for the atom bomb.
When it comes your only regret was that you didn't pick flowers today,
you see their petals now in the spreading mushroom cloud
and everything is expanding and rushing towards you at once and you want to cry because of the flower, but you can't, everyone is watching, you have to be strong.
So you push the boy with the retainer down.
Then you're suddenly gone and there's just your shadow on the pavement.
He wraps your arms around you, warmth and comfort before you fade away.
Don't forget your shadow.
Bulldozers pile up bodies on a sunny day. There is a slight breeze, and it's not too humid.
Then the infrastructure collapses
what are you left with
what remains
cut beams and dust
dust
We are the dust we so closely follow under the kitchen lights, pound your pillow and watch all the world float before your eyes
We rip off our skin and join the rest of humankind
The glass in your hair makes it shine, but when I try to run my fingers through it your scalp starts to drip with the blood from my hands.
But I can't stop, the rush is too much and I even moan a little.
I was so embarrassed, you know how quiet I usually am.
I would have blushed, apologized even
I would have stepped back.
But I couldn't do what I would do,
I was too mesmerized by my life gathering around your temples before it glides over your cheekbones and eventually falls between our feet.
All I could do was moan as I rubbed my face in your hair and my blood
Our life is here.
Maybe I'm as sick as they say.
Feel that puddle gathering around your toes, that is me
See that basil in our window box,that it you.
I will grind you up with the olive oil that is my cousin in Tivoli and the garlic that is the migrant Mexican worker in southern California, I will spoon all of you over my gnocchi. Then you are all me, and I'm all of you.
Everything exists for this.
When this is okay you have to thank all the awful times, the grotesque that you push out of your head but it always comes back.
You have to thank it. Even if it's only good enough. Because you don't know anything else. So you're bound to be thankful, to be full of praise.
The atom is beautiful but there is so much danger that comes with it.
Let's admit it, our thoughts are mundane.
They've been around much longer and are bound to outlive us.
maybe that's beautiful, maybe it's not.
Maybe I don't even believe in it.
I filled this room with silverware,
The kind you bring out for Easter and the visitors you are trying to impress.
You need this promotion, your mortgage will be the death of you the wife keeps nagging you about trips to Key West and detergent and retainers for the kids. Ah, kids why'd you ever have them? What good have they done you? They best visit you when they stick you in a home, eh? Not that you'll remember.
Maybe you should visit your own mother, but what good is it if she won't even remember?
You watch her lined, crusty mouth move up and down, and unevenly. Why are her eyebrow hairs sticking out like that? Is eyebrow hair even allowed to be that long? These plants are dying, even though they're fake. Why does the rosary smell like gravy? Read her the same book, tell her the same lies, not that she remembers.
Your son is fine.
He's doing great, he visited last week.
I'm surprised you don't remember.
I feel your ghost dancing on my tongue
I'm afraid to open my mouth
I want you to stay with me
Don't float through the air with the rest of the dust
I'm human
I'm selfish
I need you here, and I need to keep you in your entirety.
I need the warmth that he gave you, that fuzzy aura
You look like a saint
Your eyes quietly suffer
So full of love
I need to feel that love, I need to breath it in.
I can never open my mouth, I need to keep you here, always. I hope you understand
I'm sure saints understand.
My blood it still on our feet,
Our soles will always be stained red from now on, I hope that's okay with you
I'll breath in as you breath out.
This will emphasize the fact that we are one in the same.
Then I'll breath out and it will be the last time, please breath in deeply.
It's my last hope in continuing this journey. I need to see it through to the end.
My shoulders will be full of nothing but warmth and love
I'm coating your hair, your feet stained with me.
And I'm in your mouth and your lungs.
I'll stay until you breath out.
Then I come back.
When you want to see me, look at the dust
and lick your feet
and breath in
I gnaw on basil
It masks the breath of Lazarus.
Breath out.
never felt so whole
The day after the second time I burned to the ground, a pigeon crawled to me and handed me a map, I haven't the slightest idea what is on it to but I keep it close to my heart and it leads me to where I must go, where the treasure is to be found.
Don'tbreathout.Don'tbreath
Don't turn around.
You have to breath out.
You can't help but lose everything.
Take your next step.
Your left foot makes you larger.
Your right foot makes you smaller.
And the flowers will sing, but only if you're polite.
And stay quiet.
And listen.
I can't feel my foot anymore, I'm starting to doubt it's mine anyways, maybe it belongs to everyone, to everything.
My foot.
Not my foot.
Not mine.
The grinded glass makes our eyes sparkle.
I can't stay and this isn't for me
though I don't have the slightest idea what is for me
Don't wait. Not for me, only for the atom bomb.
When it comes your only regret was that you didn't pick flowers today,
you see their petals now in the spreading mushroom cloud
and everything is expanding and rushing towards you at once and you want to cry because of the flower, but you can't, everyone is watching, you have to be strong.
So you push the boy with the retainer down.
Then you're suddenly gone and there's just your shadow on the pavement.
He wraps your arms around you, warmth and comfort before you fade away.
Don't forget your shadow.
Bulldozers pile up bodies on a sunny day. There is a slight breeze, and it's not too humid.
Then the infrastructure collapses
what are you left with
what remains
cut beams and dust
dust
We are the dust we so closely follow under the kitchen lights, pound your pillow and watch all the world float before your eyes
We rip off our skin and join the rest of humankind
The glass in your hair makes it shine, but when I try to run my fingers through it your scalp starts to drip with the blood from my hands.
But I can't stop, the rush is too much and I even moan a little.
I was so embarrassed, you know how quiet I usually am.
I would have blushed, apologized even
I would have stepped back.
But I couldn't do what I would do,
I was too mesmerized by my life gathering around your temples before it glides over your cheekbones and eventually falls between our feet.
All I could do was moan as I rubbed my face in your hair and my blood
Our life is here.
Maybe I'm as sick as they say.
Feel that puddle gathering around your toes, that is me
See that basil in our window box,that it you.
I will grind you up with the olive oil that is my cousin in Tivoli and the garlic that is the migrant Mexican worker in southern California, I will spoon all of you over my gnocchi. Then you are all me, and I'm all of you.
Everything exists for this.
When this is okay you have to thank all the awful times, the grotesque that you push out of your head but it always comes back.
You have to thank it. Even if it's only good enough. Because you don't know anything else. So you're bound to be thankful, to be full of praise.
The atom is beautiful but there is so much danger that comes with it.
Let's admit it, our thoughts are mundane.
They've been around much longer and are bound to outlive us.
maybe that's beautiful, maybe it's not.
Maybe I don't even believe in it.
I filled this room with silverware,
The kind you bring out for Easter and the visitors you are trying to impress.
You need this promotion, your mortgage will be the death of you the wife keeps nagging you about trips to Key West and detergent and retainers for the kids. Ah, kids why'd you ever have them? What good have they done you? They best visit you when they stick you in a home, eh? Not that you'll remember.
Maybe you should visit your own mother, but what good is it if she won't even remember?
You watch her lined, crusty mouth move up and down, and unevenly. Why are her eyebrow hairs sticking out like that? Is eyebrow hair even allowed to be that long? These plants are dying, even though they're fake. Why does the rosary smell like gravy? Read her the same book, tell her the same lies, not that she remembers.
Your son is fine.
He's doing great, he visited last week.
I'm surprised you don't remember.
I feel your ghost dancing on my tongue
I'm afraid to open my mouth
I want you to stay with me
Don't float through the air with the rest of the dust
I'm human
I'm selfish
I need you here, and I need to keep you in your entirety.
I need the warmth that he gave you, that fuzzy aura
You look like a saint
Your eyes quietly suffer
So full of love
I need to feel that love, I need to breath it in.
I can never open my mouth, I need to keep you here, always. I hope you understand
I'm sure saints understand.
My blood it still on our feet,
Our soles will always be stained red from now on, I hope that's okay with you
I'll breath in as you breath out.
This will emphasize the fact that we are one in the same.
Then I'll breath out and it will be the last time, please breath in deeply.
It's my last hope in continuing this journey. I need to see it through to the end.
My shoulders will be full of nothing but warmth and love
I'm coating your hair, your feet stained with me.
And I'm in your mouth and your lungs.
I'll stay until you breath out.
Then I come back.
When you want to see me, look at the dust
and lick your feet
and breath in
I gnaw on basil
It masks the breath of Lazarus.
Breath out.
All I need to hear.
Because the first beautiful day isn't just a beautiful day, it is a promise and it is the hope that that promise will be fulfilled.
When we feel the magic of our own existences
pulsing down to the grass between our toes
And all the sudden it's possible to find your own heartbeat everywhere around you
to live every possible life at once.
Our struggles were not in vain, they all had to be to lead up to this one day, so crystalline, as light bounces off your face towards infinity.
When we feel the magic of our own existences
pulsing down to the grass between our toes
And all the sudden it's possible to find your own heartbeat everywhere around you
to live every possible life at once.
Our struggles were not in vain, they all had to be to lead up to this one day, so crystalline, as light bounces off your face towards infinity.
24.4.09
All I needed to hear.
Because the first beautiful day isn't just a beautiful day, it is a promise and it is the hope that that promise will be fulfilled.
When we feel the magic of our own existences
pulsing down to the grass between our toes
And all the sudden it's possible to find your own heartbeat everywhere around you
to live every possible life at once.
Our struggles were not in vain, they all had to be to lead up to this one day, so crystalline, as light bounces off your face towards infinity.
And chalk on the sidewalk reads "It's okay".
When we feel the magic of our own existences
pulsing down to the grass between our toes
And all the sudden it's possible to find your own heartbeat everywhere around you
to live every possible life at once.
Our struggles were not in vain, they all had to be to lead up to this one day, so crystalline, as light bounces off your face towards infinity.
And chalk on the sidewalk reads "It's okay".
13.4.09
Disheveled assorted molskine musings. (DAMM?)
Days like this and I wish I was brave enough-
To go us to a stranger and ask their life story.
You'll only ever be in control when you hand your power over to the sea.
Our parents wanted so much more for us...
The freedom for something to believe in,
the comfort so that it won't matter if we don't find anything.
Forever is a very long time, but we'll never be around for it. Never is a very long time as well.
Would you want to expect the end of the world?
I just read that the universe is 10^26 meters. ...so I guess I don't believe in infinity anymore.
To go us to a stranger and ask their life story.
You'll only ever be in control when you hand your power over to the sea.
Our parents wanted so much more for us...
The freedom for something to believe in,
the comfort so that it won't matter if we don't find anything.
Forever is a very long time, but we'll never be around for it. Never is a very long time as well.
Would you want to expect the end of the world?
I just read that the universe is 10^26 meters. ...so I guess I don't believe in infinity anymore.
2.4.09
What's yours is mine and mine is yours.
"When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder.
Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I could have cried over it. I did. Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table.
I spent my life learning to feel less.
Every day I felt less.
Is that growing old? Or is it something worse?
You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness."
-Everything is Illuminated
Our lives are constantly getting louder, we have to take in every new refrain and line as they all converge and swell together. We hope everything ties together at the end and everything starts coming together and fades in a way that we know is okay but it will probably be the case that the last few minutes are louder and more complicated then anything before them. And then it all ends and there's only a painful silence as everyone who's listening is left confused by the lack of revelations, so they choose lines to take as their own hoping something will eventually be resolved.
We just have to hope that no matter how loud the world gets, it never overwhelms us and we never start tuning it out. We're our only witnesses and I imagine that it's of the utmost importance to try our hardest to listen for as long as we can, to hear the chords that resonate all around us and take them in until we're crying and we don't know whether it's for all the beauty or all the pain.
I don't know much about music, I just know how it makes me feel.
Well all know the lives we want, but we know that we'll probably never have them and that all we can do is try to piece together something close to what we want with everything we have, overwhelmed as we all might be, we need to recognize that all our lives are built from the same time signatures, the same notes simply rearranged into endless possibilities that we might not be able to understand fully, but are in fact built from all the same themes.
I hope I never feel less, always more. And I wish the same for you. And I hope to hear some of your life and take parts of it as my own so that you don't have to bear it alone. And I hope you'll do the same for me. And we will be so surrounded by the sounds of our live that we may have trouble hearing what each other is saying but we'll understand completely as everything swells together and it becomes hard to make out the individual notes.
Start being moved by everything because it all deserves our attention and it all deserves to be a part of everything. And I hope this makes sense to you, whoever you are and I hope we'll pass each other on the sidewalk some not-to-far-off day and you'll tell me about your everything. And I'll be so thankful.
Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I could have cried over it. I did. Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table.
I spent my life learning to feel less.
Every day I felt less.
Is that growing old? Or is it something worse?
You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness."
-Everything is Illuminated
Our lives are constantly getting louder, we have to take in every new refrain and line as they all converge and swell together. We hope everything ties together at the end and everything starts coming together and fades in a way that we know is okay but it will probably be the case that the last few minutes are louder and more complicated then anything before them. And then it all ends and there's only a painful silence as everyone who's listening is left confused by the lack of revelations, so they choose lines to take as their own hoping something will eventually be resolved.
We just have to hope that no matter how loud the world gets, it never overwhelms us and we never start tuning it out. We're our only witnesses and I imagine that it's of the utmost importance to try our hardest to listen for as long as we can, to hear the chords that resonate all around us and take them in until we're crying and we don't know whether it's for all the beauty or all the pain.
I don't know much about music, I just know how it makes me feel.
Well all know the lives we want, but we know that we'll probably never have them and that all we can do is try to piece together something close to what we want with everything we have, overwhelmed as we all might be, we need to recognize that all our lives are built from the same time signatures, the same notes simply rearranged into endless possibilities that we might not be able to understand fully, but are in fact built from all the same themes.
I hope I never feel less, always more. And I wish the same for you. And I hope to hear some of your life and take parts of it as my own so that you don't have to bear it alone. And I hope you'll do the same for me. And we will be so surrounded by the sounds of our live that we may have trouble hearing what each other is saying but we'll understand completely as everything swells together and it becomes hard to make out the individual notes.
Start being moved by everything because it all deserves our attention and it all deserves to be a part of everything. And I hope this makes sense to you, whoever you are and I hope we'll pass each other on the sidewalk some not-to-far-off day and you'll tell me about your everything. And I'll be so thankful.
1.4.09
Hi my name is Taylor and I have the disposition of a children's librarian. But I am also probably completely insane.
I was born in the same town as Timothy Leary, though many years later. "Turn on, tune in, drop out." I just wish I was better at disengaging myself from this constructed reality, but I've yet to find a way to do it without also becoming distant from the people I love. To become cold and trapped in the confines of my own mind, (The mind is large, but not large enough) I feel this would be counterproductive. And so I'll carry on. I just wish we could all live every possible life at once.
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