Excerpt from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

01 Thursday Dec 2016

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How beautiful and sad that was! How beautiful the words were when they said BURY ME IN THE OLD CHURCHYARD! A tremor passed over his body. How sad and how beautiful! He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music. The bell! The bell! Farewell! O Farewell!

Reader, whenever I post a quote, know that it is because I found the words profoundly beautiful; know that I was saddened to find that their sadness echoed my own; know, if you can, how words on a page move me so.

Passage, beautiful, inky temptress, I pressed my fingertips on your imprint hoping you’d seep inside and stay.

The Last Shadow Puppets cover Leonard Cohen’s “Is This What You Wanted”

29 Tuesday Nov 2016

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In the timely yet cruel way the world often works, it just so happened that three weeks before legendary singer-songwriter/poet Leonard Cohen’s passing UK indie duo The Last Shadow Puppets, comprised of longtime pals Alex Turner and Miles Kane, uploaded Turner’s cover of “Is This What You Wanted” onto their YouTube channel. I already penned a piece on Cohen’s death so do pardon my focus here on Turner, a legend in the making with and without Kane. Continue reading →

Leonard Cohen is dead

12 Saturday Nov 2016

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I heard it on the radio this afternoon so it must be true. When I got home social media confirmed the news, but unprecedented election outcomes in the States stunted the outpouring of grief for this legend of modern music and poetry. Much of the world is still reeling after Continue reading →

A letter to James Dean on sensitivity, introversion, & metaphysical relationships

10 Thursday Nov 2016

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Dear James,

The following quote has been attributed to you but I’m not sure if you actually said it as there’s some debate online regarding its origin.

Am I in love? Absolutely. I’m in love with ancient philosophers, foreign painters, classic authors, and musicians who have died long ago. I’m a passionate lover. I fawn over these people. I have given them my heart and my soul. The trouble is, I’m unable to love anyone tangible. I have sacrificed a physical bond, for a metaphysical relationship. I am the ultimate idealistic lover.

For the sake of this letter and my sanity I’m going to assume that those words did spring from that solitary, sensitive soul of yours, because Continue reading →

Summertime Sadness

08 Tuesday Nov 2016

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Listening to Lana Del Rey on summer nights: a wearable mood / like slipping on a cloak of indulgent sadness / a shift of persona, swift as Mystique / a sinking and falling into place, like being swallowed into the depths of a dark rose, petals spiralling into infinity / memories unfolding, genuine or embellished, shrinking and blooming like youth on rewind / FIN.