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[22 Sep 2008|11:23pm] |
"someone should write me a love poem but i'm stuck doing it myself"
Daphne Gottlieb
1. when i was in high school, i had to memorize the
conjugation of the latin verb "to love."
2. i have no idea what happened to my mother's wedding
ring. last night at 12:17 am, i really needed to know.
3. "beautiful" and "amazing" just mean "beautiful" and
"amazing." nothing more.
4. i memorized the latin verb by singing the forms to the
tune of "the mexican hat dance":
amo
amas
amat
amamus
amatis
amant
5. someone called at 1:19 in the morning. the area code is
from somewhere in arizona. i don't think i know anyone
in arizona. there wasn't a message.
6. if someone lets you sleep over and has to go to work while
you're still asleep and they let you sleep in even though though
they don't really know you, it's nice to leave a thank you
note. or make their bed.
7. i haven't been beautiful in days and i need more sleep.
don't think about it too much. it doesn't mean a thing.
8. i have had my shirts altered so i can wear my heart on my
sleeve.
9. told me i'm beautiful and amazing and where are you,
who told me i'm beautiful and amazing, next time please
write it down, i will be beautiful all day after i make the
bed, amazing after i throw the latex away; how is it, the
everywhere of our hands and no trace of handwriting
anywhere
10. i still sing:
amo
amas
amat
amamus
amatis
amant
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[21 Jul 2008|10:28pm] |
Life Itinerary: Present until June 2009, with speculations to May 2010
Currently in Madrid, working part-time but mostly enjoying being able to sleep in until 11am during the work week.
In August, I'll be in Ljubljana for a week-and-a-half visiting my friend Laura. I'll be flying into Venice in the morning, spending the day there sightseeing, and that evening taking a train to the Slovenian capital.
Apart from this trip, I'll be spending the month working on my Fulbright Scholarship application to teach English at the university level in Colombia, hopefully Bogota, starting in August 2009. The committee notifies applicants in March 2009, and if accepted, I'll move there somewhere around June/July of 2009.
In September, I'll be preparing for my move to Oviedo, on the northern coast of Spain in October. In Mieres, the small town outside Oviedo, I'll be a Teaching Assistant to the English department in a local high school until the beginning of June 2009.
If the Fulbright Program doesn't work out, I'll also be planning to take the GRE and start looking at graduate schools in the States, although I still do not feel ready to re-enter neither the academic world nor the U.S.
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| love it |
[24 May 2008|11:13am] |
“Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem”
Bob Hicok
My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers
of my palms tell me so.
Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish
at the same time. I think
praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think
staying up and waiting
for paintings to sigh is science. In another dimension this
is exactly what's happening,
it's what they write grants about: the chromodynamics
of mournful Whistlers,
the audible sorrow and beta decay of "Old Battersea Bridge."
I like the idea of different
theres and elsewheres, an Idaho known for bluegrass,
a Bronx where people talk
like violets smell. Perhaps I am somewhere patient, somehow
kind, perhaps in the nook
of a cousin universe I've never defiled or betrayed
anyone. Here I have
two hands and they are vanishing, the hollow of your back
to rest my cheek against,
your voice and little else but my assiduous fear to cherish.
My hands are webbed
like the wind-torn work of a spider, like they squeezed
something in the womb
but couldn't hang on. One of those other worlds
or a life I felt
passing through mine, or the ocean inside my mother's belly
she had to scream out.
Here when I say "I never want to be without you,"
somewhere else I am saying
"I never want to be without you again." And when I touch you
in each of the places we meet
in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying
and resurrected.
When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life,
in each place and forever.
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| I'd put my money on D; fuck this hurts |
[22 May 2008|09:49pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 uncomfortable |
] |
The pain in my stomach is due to:
a.) Lack of sleep
b.) Random nicotine withdrawls (although I smoke a pack a month, if that)
c.) Eating poorly
d.) Waiting, or not knowing, over a handful of things.
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[18 May 2008|09:04pm] |
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My life right now is like Closer, only way gayer.
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| been there |
[25 Apr 2008|07:34pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 busy |
] |
“Incident”
Norman MacCaig
I look across the table and think
(fiery with love)
Ask me, go on, ask me
to do something impossible,
something freakishly useless,
something unimaginable and inimitable
Like making a finger break into blossom
or walking for half an hour in twenty minutes
or remembering tomorrow.
I will you to ask it.
But all you say is
Will you give me a cigarette?
And I smile and,
returning to the marvelous world
of possibility
I give you one
with a hand that trembles
with a human trembling.
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[23 Mar 2008|10:40pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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restless |
] |
Yo voy pensando en ti, buscando las palabras.
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lasdesperadas's journal
