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.::r e f l e c t::.
Some people of course expect
to be rewarded for stumbling
and rising from the floor
and stumbling again, but we give
no credit for living. We favor vitality
over goodness, even over effort;
we love a great belly laugh
more than anything.
In your case we do worry
there may not be enough
quarrel in you, or enough courage
to acknowledge your worst inclinations.
Know that the soul converts them
into tenderness. Nothing pleases it more.
-Stephen Dunn (from The Soul's Agents)
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.::t h e s i n g e r s c h a n g e , t h e m u s i c g o e s o n::.
No one really dies in the myths.
No world is lost in the stories.
Everything is lost in the retelling,
in being wondered at. We grow up
and grow old in our land of grass
and blood moons, birth and goneness.
A place of absolutes. Of returning.
We live our myth in the recurrence,
pretending we will return another day.
Like the morning coming every morning.
The truth is we come back as a choir.
Otherwise Eurydice would be forever
in the dark. Our singing brings her
back. Our dying keeps her alive.
-linda gregg
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.::p r o g e r i a::.
There was once a carpet salesman who developed an obscure disease that was eventually—after it had run its raging course—diagnosed as acute adult-onset progeria, a diagnosis that was met with skepticism and astonishment by virtually everyone in the medical community, which was only natural.
Both the etiology and prognosis of the carpet salesman’s affliction were baffling, since all symptoms defied the literature on the subject. Essentially, it was a seizure of aging that gripped the poor fellow, so that at twenty-seven he began to age unnaturally and in three years had the physique of a seventy-year-old man. This rapid progression of aging stopped as suddenly and inexplicably as it had begun, leaving the carpet salesman tired, sick, and bewildered.
In spite of his brief fame due to this misfortune, the salesman was soon forced to retire. He felt and acted not like a sound and robust seventy-year-old man, but like one who has lost all his health and vitality; and there was no denying it. His wife and young children left him, but he was too old and tired to protest.
Still, he had to live, somehow, and after a few, half-hearted probes, managed to secure another job as a salesman, this time with a company named “Ec-Log,” producers of programmed materials for micro-economic analysis.
But, since he was ill-prepared for this high-pressured existence, and ill-trained, so that he had great difficulty in understanding what he was selling, he soon retired once again—this time on a medical disability.
At thirty he entered a nursing home, where he tried to tell his fellow patients what had happened to him; but none of them understood a thing he was saying. Without exception, they interpreted every detail of his story as no different from those of their own lives, because all of them secretly believed that their old age and debility had crept upon them in the same way—inscrutably, unfairly, and swiftly, within the duration of, say, two or three years.
-excerpted from "Anecotal Spores" by Matt Hughes
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just a short story that's been stubbornly chewing it's way through my brain for the past week.... just thought i'd throw it out into the xanga void and see if it makes a ripple...
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.::p u n d e r f u l::.
a group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. after about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "but why?" they asked, as they moved off.
"because," he said, "i can't stand chess-nuts boasting in an open foyer."
....sorry.
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.::t w o y e a r s a g o t o d a y::.
In crowded bars, at subway cars,
Whenever you are next to me,
center of gravity,
can't feel both feet on the ground...
Walking home after dark, past the softball park,
Whenever you are next to me,
center of gravity,
can't feel both feet on the ground.
It's clear to me, according to a rule, I learned one day in school
Basic geometry: two halves of a circle, you and me...
It's a familial song, we've known so long,
Your clever cuts into me
as long as you're next to me
I can't feel both feet on the ground...
Whenever you are next to me,
center of gravity,
can't feel both feet on the ground.
~Yo La Tengo, Center of Gravity
...happy 730 days, to my wifey-to-be.
=) (:
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