Career objective: to swoop and poop whenever and wherever the urge strikes. Continue reading
13 Tuesday Dec 2016
06 Tuesday Dec 2016
01 Thursday Dec 2016
a portrait of the artist as a young man, book, books, james joyce, lit, literature, quote, writer, writing
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.
12 Saturday Nov 2016
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
11 Friday Nov 2016
10 Thursday Nov 2016
arts, books, celebrities, cinema, culture, hollywood, introvert, james dean, letter, literature, mind, prose, writer, writing
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
08 Tuesday Nov 2016
Posted Beauty, Petit Passagesin
lana del rey, literature, music, musician, poem, poet, poetry, summer, writer, writing
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.
06 Sunday Nov 2016
disney, girls, mind, personality, prose, sentence, snow white, sociopath, writer, writing
“Let me mind my own business or so god help you.”
25 Tuesday Oct 2016
Posted Petit Passagesin
I should like to die on a splendid day at the height of summer, under a radiant blue sky on a bed of flowers. If it were not for my morbid longing for the picturesque, I should not mind expiring as wildlife do, Continue reading
24 Monday Oct 2016