enjoy, everyone.
The Day the Saucers Came - Neil Gaiman
That day, the saucers landed. Hundreds of them, golden,
Silent, coming down from the sky like great snowflakes,
And the people of Earth stood and stared as they descended,
Waiting, dry-mouthed to find what waited inside for us
And none of us knowing if we would be here tomorrow
But you didn’t notice it because
That day, the day the saucers came, by some coincidence,
Was the day that the graves gave up their dead
And the zombies pushed up through soft earth
or erupted, shambling and dull-eyed, unstoppable,
Came towards us, the living, and we screamed and ran,
But you did not notice this because
On the saucer day, which was the zombie day, it was
Ragnarok also, and the television screens showed us
A ship built of dead-man’s nails, a serpent, a wolf,
All bigger than the mind could hold, and the cameraman could
Not get far enough away, and then the Gods came out
But you did not see them coming because
On the saucer-zombie-battling gods day the floodgates broke
And each of us was engulfed by genies and sprites
Offering us wishes and wonders and eternities
And charm and cleverness and true brave hearts and pots of gold
While giants feefofummed across the land, and killer bees,
But you had no idea of any of this because
That day, the saucer day the zombie day
The Ragnarok and fairies day, the day the great winds came
And snows, and the cities turned to crystal, the day
All plants died, plastics dissolved, the day the
Computers turned, the screens telling us we would obey, the day
Angels, drunk and muddled, stumbled from the bars,
And all the bells of London were sounded, the day
Animals spoke to us in Assyrian, the Yeti day,
The fluttering capes and arrival of the Time Machine day,
You didn’t notice any of this because
you were sitting in your room, not doing anything
not even reading, not really, just
looking at your telephone,
wondering if I was going to call.
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"I don't know what hate felt like, not the hate that comes after love.
It's huge and desperate and it longs to be proved wrong. And everyday,
it's proved right and it grows a little more monstrous. If the love was
passion, the hate will be obsession. A need to see the once-loved
weaked and cowed and beneath pity. Disgust is close and dignity is far
away. The hate is not only for the once loved, its for YOURSELF TOO:
how could you have ever loved this?"
--jeanette winterson
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“That is why young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love: it is something they must learn…
But this is what young people are so often and so disastrously wrong in
doing they (who by their very nature are impatient) fling themselves at
each other when love takes hold of them, they scatter themselves, just as they are, in all their messiness, disorder, bewilderment. . . . : And what can happen then? What can life do with this heap of half-broken things that they call their communion and that they would like to call their happiness, if that
were possible, and their future? And so each of them loses
himself for the sake of the other person, and loses the other, and many
others who still wanted to come. And loses the vast distances and
possibilities, gives up the approaching and fleeing of gentle,
prescient Things in exchange for an unfruitful confusion....” -Letter 7
of Letters to A Young Poet, Rainer Marie Rilke