YO GUYS

NEW RESOLUTIONS

1. drink coffee every day
2. get up by 7:40 am
3. be at the gym by 8:30-8:45 am, no wafting around home till 9 am
4. arrive at work no later than 10:15 am
5. but still, respect a slower pace of life, what’s the urgency man
6. reject half-sleep/half-awake modes, when this state presents itself, reject it!!!! turn on lamp!!!! read!!!!
7. do not fall asleep to TV even if it’s election results
8. do not act like dogs have human feelings!!!! they have dog feelings only and very little memory

style inspiration #12000

latest rachel comey, courtesy of la garconne.

Raoul De Keyser

Raoul De Keyser, Retour 1, 1999. Courtesy of Glass, House.

to capture something of the phenomenal moment

more from anne carson, the art of poetry no. 88 (bolding my own):

…She [George Eliot] describes clouds moving over the sun at eleven o’clock in the morning on a path in an oak forest and it’s just exactly how that would be. I admire that more than any other aspect of writing.

…and that’s the reason why I find Chinese and Japanese poetry satisfying. Because it seems to have the same aim. In fact, it’s their whole mechanism of insight into reality, to capture something of the phenomenal moment and then to let that exude a meaning larger than the moment.

dealing with fragments

from anne carson, the art of poetry no. 88 (bolding my own):

…In Sappho’s poem [Fragment 31], her addresses to gods are orderly, perfect poetic products, but the way—and this is the magic of fragments—the way that poem breaks off [“But all is to be dared, because even a person of poverty”] leads into a thought that can’t ever be apprehended. There is the space where a thought would be, but which you can’t get hold of. I love that space. It’s the reason I like to deal with fragments. Because no matter what the thought would be if it were fully worked out, it wouldn’t be as good as the suggestion of a thought that the space gives you. Nothing fully worked out could be so arresting, spooky.

Fragment 31

He seems to me equal to gods that man
whoever he is who opposite you
sits and listens close
to your sweet speaking

and lovely laughing—oh it
puts the heart in my chest on wings
for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking
is left in me

no: tongue breaks and thin
fire is racing under skin
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears

and cold sweat holds me and shaking
grips me all, greener than grass
I am and dead—or almost
I seem to me.

But all is to be dared, because even a person of poverty

 

RETTA

parks and recreation’s retta sirleaf on her childhood:

Explain how, as a kid, you wanted to be an opera singer.
That was the original plan: to be an opera signer. I was in chorus in grade school, and we learned classical [music]. I used to pretend to speak the different languages, like fake Italian. And my mother would be like, “Seriously, you need to stop.”

wyatt and billy