| The Lord of the Rings - The Fellowship of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien |
[05 Jul 2008|01:52pm] |
|
"I sit by the fire and think
of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know"
- My favourite quote in the series. It made me think (when I read it for the first time when I was 13) that there are people who came before me who are now gone, and that there will be people after I am gone that will never know me.
First time poster, go easy!
|
|
| portraits |
[05 Jul 2008|02:23pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 exhausted |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
"Black and Gold" Sam Sparro |
] |
"Pleasure is the only thing worth having a theory about," he answered in his slow melodious voice. "But I am afraid I cannot claim my theory as my own. It belongs to Nature, not to me. Pleasure is Nature's test, her sign of approval. When we are happy, we are always good, but when we are good, we are not always happy." -Lord Henry
-The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde
|
|
| tell me that you love me, junie moon |
[05 Jul 2008|12:03pm] |
He awoke often at four in the morning, at a time when the winds died and the stillness was oppressive. At those times it was hard for him to think of sex. More often he thought: I am always sleeping among strangers.
- marjorie kellogg
|
|
| Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban- J. K. Rowling |
[05 Jul 2008|11:26pm] |
"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Snape said, hitting the map with his wand.
As though an invisible wand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.
"Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."
Snape froze. Harry stared, dumbstruck, at the message. But the map didn't stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first.
"Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."
It would have been very funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. And there was more...
"Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."
Harry closed his eyes in horror. When he'd opened them, the map had had its last word.
"Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."
|
|
|
[05 Jul 2008|11:07am] |
"Madam," the Margrave ground out in a voice like sharpening knives, "this may come as an immense surprise to you, considering how highly you esteem your intellect, yet I must confess there is a great deal in this world about which you know less than nothing. I say 'less than' because you are informed incorrectly -- and being both tenacious and pompous, you cling to this misinformation as a pit bull to the bone, which makes you far more dangerous and contemptible than even the stupidest of men."
havemercy ; jaida jones and danielle bennett
|
|
| ~ M Scott Peck, "The Road Less Travelled", 1983, p.26-27 |
[05 Jul 2008|11:38am] |
|
At the age of thirty-seven I learned how to fix things. Prior to that time almost all my attempts to make minor plumbing repairs, mend toys or assemble boxed furniture according to the accompanying hieroglyphical instruction sheet ended in confusion, failure and frustration. Despite having managed to make it through medical school and support a family as a more or less successful executive and psychiatrist, I considered myself to be a mechanical idiot. I was convinced I was deficient in some gene, or by curse of nature lacking some mystical quality responsible for mechanical ability. Then one day at the end of my thirty-seventh year, while taking a spring Sunday walk, I happened upon a neighbour in the process of repairing a lawn mower. After greeting him I remarked, "Boy, I sure admire you. I've never been able to fix those kinds of things or do anything like that." My neighbour, without a moment's hesitation, shot back, "That's because you don't take the time." I resumed my walk, somehow disquieted by the gurulike simplicity, spontaneity and definitiveness of his response. "You don't suppose he could be right, do you?" I asked myself.
Somehow it registered, and the next time the opportunity presented itself to make a minor repair I was able to remind myself to take my time. The parking brake was stuck on a patient's car, and she knew that there was something one could do under the dashboard to release it, but she didn't know what. I lay down on the floor below the front seat of her car. Then I took the time to make myself comfortable. Once I was comfortable, I then took the time to look at the situation. I looked for several minutes. At first all I saw was a confusing jumble of wires and tubes and rods, whose meaning I did not know. But gradually, in no hurry, I was able to focus my sight on the brake apparatus and trace its course. And then it became clear to me that there was a little latch preventing the brake from being released. I slowly studied this latch until it became clear to me that if I were to push it upward with the tip of my finger it would move easily and would release the brake. And so I did this. One single motion, one ounce of pressure from a fingertip, and the problem was solved. I was a master mechanic!
Actually, I don't begin to have the knowledge or the time to gain that knowledge to be able to fix most mechanical failures, given the fact that I choose to concentrate my time on non-mechanical matters. So I still usually go running to the nearest repairman. But I now know that this is a choice I make, and that I am not cursed or genetically defective or otherwise incapacitated or impotent. And I know that I and anyone else who is not mentally defective can solve any problem if we are willing to take the time.
|
|
| Some Longfellow |
[05 Jul 2008|04:58pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Basement Jaxx |
] |
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs
And as silently steal away
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
|
|
| Sebastian Barry, "The Secret Scripture" |
[05 Jul 2008|03:18pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 hyper |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Romantist Egotist - Porno Graffitti |
] |
It was like the first time I thought I loved her, when she was young and slight as a watercolour, a mere gesture of bones and features, beautiful and perfect in my eyes, when I pledged myself to her, to make her happy, to adore her, to hold her in my arms - the strange, maybe stupid compact of all lovers.
*
The written word assumes authority but it may not have it.
*
It is always worth itemising happiness, there is so much of the other thing in a life, you had better put down the markers for happiness while you can.
*
I am old enough to know that time passing is just a trick, a convenience. Everything is always there, still unfolding, still happening. The past, the present, the future, in the noggin, eternally, like brushes, combs and ribbons in a handbag.
*
All that remains of me now is a rumour of beauty.
|
|
|
[05 Jul 2008|02:45pm] |
So that's how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us - that's snatched right out of our hands - even if we are left completely changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to the end of our allocated span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasureable loneliness.
Sputnik Sweetheart - Haruki Murakami
|
|
| call for zine submissions! |
[04 Jul 2008|05:06pm] |
For Camp Trans, to be disseminated to fest attendees and just in general document where Camp Trans is at in this moment. I'd love some more submissions from people who have been involved. I want the zine to be catered to it's target audience (women who are sympathetic but not super educated about trans issues), and to stay focused on Camp Trans' relevance, in the past and present, to both individual identity and community growth.
I'm looking for short pieces, especially theory on the subject of transmisogyny, but also poetry, and maybe some "What Camp Trans is" sort of stuff. Oh and COMICS!!!! ART!!!! I need it. seriously, my skillz are teh crap. Lost make me a comic dammit!
I'd like a fest attendee who doesn't know a lot of transwomen, and doesn't know a ton about camp trans to be able to walk away from reading the zine with the ability to articulate the intention of camp trans.
seriously COMICS!
love kat. Feel free to message/aim/email me to discuss ideas.
|
|
| A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. |
[04 Jul 2008|04:40pm] |
"--and as I was singing and doing the slo-mo hands-in-hair-maneuver, I messed up the words to the song I was singing, and though it was two fifty-one in the morning, I became quickly, deeply embarrassed about my singing gaffe, convinced that there was a very good chance that someone could see me-- through the window, across the dark, across the street. I was sure, saw vividly that someone--or more likely a someone and his friends--over there was having a hearty laugh at my expense.
That must drive you insa--
Oh Please. What would a brain do if not these sorts of exercises? I have no idea how people function without near-constant internal chaos. I'd lose my mind." -- Dave Eggers, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
|
|
| The Horse and His Boy |
[04 Jul 2008|05:49pm] |
"Let me down, Edmund," howled Rabadash. "Let me down and fight me like a King and a man; or if you are too great a coward to do that, kill me at once."
"Certainly," began King Edmund, but King Lune interrupted.
"By your Majesty's good leave," said King Lune to Edmund, "not so." Then, turning to Rabadash, he said, "Your royal Highness, if you had given that challenge a week ago, I'll answer for it there was no one in King Edmund's dominion, from the High King down to the smallest talking mouse, who would have refused it. But by attacking our castle of Anvard in time of peace without defiance sent, you have proved yourself no knight, but a traitor, and one rather to be whipped by the hangman than to be suffered to cross swords with any person of honor. Take him down, bind him, and carry him within till our pleasure is further known."
Strong hands wrenched Rabadash's sword from him and he was carried away into the castle, shouting, threatening, cursing, and even crying. For though he could have faced torture, he couldn't bear being made ridiculous.
~C.S. Lewis
|
|
| margaret cho, "i have chosen to stay and fight" |
[04 Jul 2008|06:24pm] |
"There is no reason to tell us apart because I don't wish to be classified, as if that makes me more human to you, or makes me more identifiable to you, as if you can understand me better, as if the country my parents came from has affected my life so much that it makes me an exotic and rare bird."
( 2 more )
|
|
|
[04 Jul 2008|10:49am] |
I promised myself I wouldn't cry this morning when he left, I wanted to keep his plaid shirt as a reminder of the magic but I couldn't bring myself to lie to him about it's whereabouts. We had an amazing talk about everything I have ever been scared to bring up in a relationship setting, including various insecurities. while lying together before falling asleep, I told him I was a little drunk almost to gloss over the fact that I opened up to a veritable stranger. He promised that he would write but I have a feeling I will never hear from him. I took the day off work because I hoped that we would have a good last few hours together, my last memory of him will be of the lingering hug and chaste kiss on the lips with the promise to keep in touch.
Despite this sadness I have never ever felt more comfortable with who I am. It is amazing how one flash or grenade as I described it in my life can set off this whole tidal wave of emotion and sense of closure.
For all I know he is like this with everyone he has met and slept with on tour, but something tells me this one is different. I have never ever fell so quickly in love, I can't describe it any other way. I know full well that nothing was ever meant to come out of it, given the distance and his life back home, and the fact that he is a touring musician doesn't help much either. I am glad that he leaves the city on a high note, his band played really well last night, still not my cup of tea but when they are on and play as a cohesive unit then they are pretty great.
I sincerely hope it wasn't a goodbye,but rather an I'll see you soon.
|
|
| Fugly |
[04 Jul 2008|10:28am] |
|
Would you ever lie to the ministry of transportation and say you 'lost' your drivers liscense because you hated the picture?
|
|
| 239: A Vow |
[04 Jul 2008|07:28am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Scene and Herd - Relient K (Warped Tour was frickin' awesome) |
] |
“A Vow”
Allen Ginsberg
I will haunt these States
with beard bald head
eyes staring out plane window
hair hanging out in Greyhound bus midnight
leaning over taxicab seat to admonish
an angry cursing driver
hand lifted to calm
his outraged vehicle
that I pass with the Green Light of common law.
Common sense, Common law, common tenderness
and common tranquility
our means in America to control the money munching
war machine, bright lit industry
everywhere digesting forests & excreting soft pyramids
of newsprint, Redwood and Ponderosa patriarchs
silent in Meditation murdered & regurgitated as smoke,
sawdust, screaming ceilings of Soap Opera,
thick dead Lifes, slick Advertisements
for Gubernatorial big guns
burping Napalm on palm rice tropic greenery.
Dynamite in forests,
boughs fly slow motion
thunder down ravine,
Helicopters roar over National Park, Mekong swamp,
Dynamite fire blasts thru Model Villages,
Violence screams at Police, Mayors get mad over radio,
Drop the Bomb on Niggers!
drop Fire on the gook China
Frankenstein Dragon
waving its tail over Bayonne's domed Aluminium oil reservoir!
I'll haunt these states all year
gazing bleakly out train windows, blue airfield
red TV network on evening plains,
decoding radar Provincial editorial paper message,
deciphering Iron Pipe laborer's curses as
clanging hammers they raise steamshovel claws
over Puerto Rican agony lawyers screams in slums.
|
|
|
[04 Jul 2008|05:37am] |
I am driving from Toronto to the femme conference in Chicago this August if anyone needs a ride and wants to share gas money. We are leaving on the Thursday and returning later on the Sunday.
www.femmecollective.com
|
|
| Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri |
[04 Jul 2008|02:39am] |
Whenever we make that drive, I always make it a point to take Massachusetts Avenue, in spite of the traffic. I barely recognize the buildings now, but each time I am there I return instantly to those six weeks as if they were only the other day, and I slow down and point to Mrs. Croft's street, saying to my son, here was my first home in America, where I lived with a woman who was 103. "Remember?" Mala says, and smiles, amazed, as I am, that there was ever a time that we were strangers. My son always expresses his astonishment, not at Mrs. Croft's age, but at how little I paid in rent, a fact nearly as inconceivable to him as a flag on the moon was to a woman born in 1866. In my son's eyes I see the ambition that had first hurled me across the world. In a few years he will graduate and pave his way, alone and unprotected. But I remind myself that he has a father who is still living, a mother who is happy and strong. Whenever he is discouraged, I tell him that if I can survive on three continents, then there is no obstacle he cannot conquer. While the astronauts, heroes forever, spent mere hours on the moon, I have remained in this new world for nearly thirty years. I know that my achievement is quite ordinary. I am not the only man to seek his fortune far from home, and certainly I am not the first. Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.
"The Third and Final Continent" from Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
|
|
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
chreid's Friends Page
hysterical