People no longer check my ID.

I really want to start writing in here again. I like tumblr but too many of my friends follow me or read it these days. Okay, yes, let's.

( HERE WE ARE. )

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( For Posterity. )

I want to die on your chest but not yet she wrote sometime in the 13th century of our love.
-- Handwriting: Poems, Michael Ondaatje
I’m interested in how poetry contains and performs the rhythms of language-making and speech-making, which are physical processes, and have everything to do with the speed your body runs at, its blood pressure, its ( Read more... )

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Oh my god. I love listening to other people sleep.

I have been out of work, well, consciously unemployed for six months. This has been both an intensely satisfying and melancholy period in my twenty-four years. I wish to know everything that I can describe: how to love, how to find love, how to keep people away from me while bringing them closer, but most importantly, how to keep people from hating ( Read more... )

Fifteen years ago I bought my first real painting. I remember the strange quality of that week, while the painting sat in the living room, and while I pondered the possibility of actually spending three hundred and fifty dollars for something to have on the wall.
On the side of buying the painting was a line I had read somewhere by Gertrude Stein. ( Read more... )