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Have you ever had one of those days when all the questions stink so you just move on and the day gets long and sad and you wish you had just faked the answers to the questions before but you figure, “hey, there’s really no time like the present” and all the people you see seem to be so much more about what you’re trying to be about and you really don’t think there’s a point to all that life has become? don’t you wish things were like the fifties again and you could go out to the roller skating waitressed burgerbars to get a chocolate malt and a side of chilly cheesed french fries and when the roller skating waitress comes out with your food she could lean inside the car with her mini-skirting long legs and say, “hey charley, maybe we could go to the movie house sometime and catch a flick” and you could say, “well sure peggy sue, that sounds like a swell night” and then you could turn on the engine of your 1957 cherry-blue chevy and it would say, “vroom!”?

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I.
when things are working right in the universe, a loss of innocence is usually followed, in time, by an increase in humanity…time is funny like that. for everything it robs us of, it grants us something. sometimes it’s a new friend, sometimes it’s a better understanding of ourselves. sometimes, it’s just a perfect day.

II.
but, our biggest regrets are not for the things we did – but, for the things we didn’t do. things we didn’t say that could have saved someone that we care about. especially when we can see the dark storm that’s headed their way.

no sources either. go ahead, google it and have some fun.
maybe you can find other nice things.

Emotions, in my experience, aren’t covered by single words.
I don’t believe in “sadness,” “joy,” or “regret.” Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feelings. I’d like t ohave at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, “the happiness that attends disaster.” Or: “the disappointment of sleeping with one’s fantasy.” I’d like to show how “intimations of morality brought on by aging family members”connects with “the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age.” I’d like to have a word for “the sadness inspired by failing restaurants”as well as for “the excitement of getting a room with a minibar.”

(c) jeffrey eugenides, 2002
middlesex is published by bloomsbury

whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death?

there must have been one, a moment, in childhood, when it occured to you that you don’t go on forever. it must have been shattering, stamped into one’s memory, and yet i can’t remember it. it never occured to me at all.

we must be born with the intuition of immortality. before we know the word for it, before we know that there are words, out we come, bloodied and squalling… with the knowledge that for all the points of the compass, there’s only one direction and time is its only measure.

{i don’t have the source}

…in forgiveness,
in the memory of love even when it is abandoned,
and in every hair that stands up on the back of your neck when you physically connect with the one you love.

love is the capability of loving.

– by amy doesnt rhyme.

you know that place between sleep and awake,
the place where you can still remember dreaming?
That’s where I’ll always love you, Peter Pan.
That’s where I’ll be waiting.

picture credit: rockmenow48

i suck at doing collages. but i do it nonetheless.

about.

girl from a tropical paradise living in a cold but beautiful little island between england and the normandy.

and that's her life in almost daily irrelevant photographs and stolen poetry.

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