They want to stop me from writing, but what they don't know is that writing is the only law I follow.
I am mourning something, I just don't know what
Well now, happy endings would just be boring now wouldn't they?
Whenever you find yourself wanting to keep all the bananas for yourself, something is wrong.
I'm not so sure why it is so difficult to find a decent life
I guess part of finding contentment is slaying some of the wild riders within you
I guess when you really need it, it returns.
I mean the best way to describe this experience is that it assumes no outcome and any one you have envisioned in your mind is utterly defeated.
A cage of light
It would be kind of cool to have Japanese porn drawn onto a potato chip in your honor.
Some organizations really want to poison the blood of good people.
There is no way to describe this emotion, just like swimming thru gray oatmeal trying to make sense of the world.
I get it. We're just trying to fit it all into the perfect frame of our mind. That's all composition is.
But I am still probably going to law school.
When you think about it, dying a baby would be quite pleasant.
Sometimes good emotions get in the way of business
Sometimes are we not just drinking, burning, fucking for an answer?
That looks like a giant dancing hat
what did we do to upset that gyrating happy man on the beach, Desireé? We did something to make him frown, scowl in anger. Maybe it was because he could see we wouldn't last, and it is always a shame when such a love is forced to separate.
I feel like my mind is being stretched to all the unnecessary + inappropriate limits
'WTF?' is right, Marcella! 'WTF?' is up with any of this shit
we see and feel?!?
Stuart, I hope you win that battle. I hope you can coexist with your demons.
I still want you to fuck me, Kaia
Just don't play the demonic lullaby right now.
Well, that kinda sounds like it.
Less visions, more physical manifestations
like a yellow shark head coursing thru my body
I'm just trying to put this in some sort of sense.
I feel like I've been possessed by someone else's hatred this past week.
When children first start liking each other, that's a funny thing, isn't it? It's like the birth of something that can be horrendously sinister, or heavenly blissful. It all depends on how we care for it.
Protect your heart. Its the only one you have.
There are so many questions I want to ask you, Marcella --->
Sometimes I am frustrated that we are separated by the page. Sometimes I just want to wake up next to you in a mute language because we would still know, there is something that pulls us together. Something beyond words or reason. Something divine, something commanded by the heavens as its will to be done. That is our union, Marcella.
The purple joker that confronts the solitude of the cold desert
Don't demonize them. It is us that forced them to face that reality.
Sometimes I get off that bike and give one last desperate glance at my humanity,
because I don't know if I'll still have it at the end of all this.
Now I understand why you look at her with such loving eyes.
It is because you think she could be the one that saves it
I am paralyzed in a sepia autumn, textured with tatami mats of flowers, celebrating creation and the beginning of a journey.
Don't write any of that which was planned. That makes for shitty storytelling
And you don't want your ex to be viewed as a shitty storyteller.
V-
you don't have to be strong thru this one. Just know, either way, you'll still be a superhero to so many
Right back where I belong, in between the neon laces + the dancing hat.
I will devour the head of a baby bald eagle if I have to, but I'd rather not, because I think I'm a vegetarian
For Theo:
My blue guardsman of the sea. I'll miss you dear brother.
I feel like my insanity has finally seeped outside of these ceremonies
At this point, I am lost in the narrative.
That's the problem with Brazil. It's rich has been allowed to reach the point where nothing will fill the human hunger.
Those are just sacred terms: mother, daughter, sister, wife. That's just how I saw it.
That's the funny thing about fire, why it is so alluring. It is selfish destruction in its consumption. But the light rain from the heavens will eventually estinguish its flames. No matter how hard it rages, it has no control
Em este mundo globalizado, Quem não sabe o que é Taiwan?
Marcella,
Reading the book you wrote is like decoding messengers of war. Translating every word is like a divot to the master key. This is by far the most beautifully complicated way of getting to know someone.
The trick men have yet to understand: the true will of women, even when broken, is unbreakable.
You in Portuguese, me in English. We are the same writer, I realize now, Marcella.
FUCK
THESE
RULES!
As hard as we may fight against that current, we are all just swimming in a story that has already been written. If we are meant to drown, we are meant to drown. It is a fate already written, just color for the narrative.
All of you who think you have "boring" lives in comparison to mine, don't you see that I envy you?
If I ever have an assistant, it will be a gay male, just cuz I feel like I owe em that one, for never being available.
she writes poetry with her life. That is why I am in love with her.
Its amazing how much of ourselves are revealed in the opposite sex, often the part we fear.
Sorry Ariele, I know you've always meant the best in your heart. I've had a shitty week for the soul. Forgive me?
Jebadiah, both you and me are howling for the same red moon.
How is your heart, Desireé? Have you let it beat, that way, lately? When was the last time?
French. That is a language where I have lost the dance of seduction. I will be in her care soon, under the wings.
It's just, when I start caring about race, like, to THAT level, I just kinda feel like a douchebag.
I am almost tempted to say the writers behind the show "Californication", "Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, Before Midnight," are geniuses. Savants. And don't nobody tell me some smartass shit in the comments, like their names. I will hunt your blood if you do.
I am afraid, Flora, because of the pain. But I've done all the calculations in my mind. There will be pain, no matter which way you slice it. But that shouldn't make us miss out on life.
One of us always gets hurt, that's just the way the game was designed.
Nothing to be angry about.
I saw so many fucked up cats with neon-color eyes this time around
The tired poet resting his pen like a samurai sword.
Maybe the lesson is to forgive, to ask for pardon.
Maybe that is why life keeps handing you all these unsavory characters.
Don't ever wish you could write like me, just don't. It is a fool's paradise.
Thanks for showing me the path, Andrew
I think the mind has a natural bullshit filter that becomes refined with use. Soon all the unnecessaries sound like white noise, and those fragments of meaning find a way thru. It is usually that of poetry.
That is probably the only thing I can ever truly give to this earth, and that is my house, will be that of no judgment.
I am not nearly as smart as most of you,
but I know what it is like to feel.
I am learning how to be sad here, in Brazil, and this is a very valuable lesson
At some point, you stop treating women as numbers, and start seeing them as stories, stories that reveal some harrowing truth of the world. A true blessing from God.
Interesting how after a really intense shit, your opinion of yourself suddenly changes.
Funny how some of the most ridiculously inappropriate people I know are lawyers.
Being alone with a fire is one of the most precious things given to this planet.
You were a hearth to me, Desireé. And now I am feeling cold on my journey.
That's all.
All writers are in some form poets. Each word is a separate prayer we are sending to the heavens above. Treat them as such.
The problem with censorship is that we've tried to regulate CHILDHOOD
An old man came + said to me, 'do you know why she came to you? It is because she needs your light as much as you need hers.' and with a grin he asked,
"Acredita?"
"Acredito," I said.
The forest is a difficult place to wander alone.
The words you once said to me were coded verse in a long poem.
I am only now beginning to understand their weight.
The only thing brave about me is that I write.
Everything else about me comes from a place of cowardice.
At this point, I have such a crazy abusive relationship with the pen that it just seems odd to put a label on it, like,
"I'm a writer. What about your profession?"
Michael, you have one of the most beautiful spirits that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Never lose that.
The feeling that we exchanged in a kiss.
*(I know it sounds extremely gay to put those two so close to one another, but that is just how it came out.
I feel like an abandoned tower covered in cobwebs.
There are people here in the world that need to hear your stories. Write them for us, if nothing else. Write them to save lives.
It's like, woah, there's no toilet paper. That is a union that will not work.
The stench of your shit should tell you what kind of demons you have just expelled.
I think it has to do with being betrayed by love at a young age. I think that is why I am
suspicious of
fairytales.
Sometimes I see stories I wish to be played out, so I just step in if there are not already cast members.
The little that I have learned from business is how to be fake.
We fight because we are cowards.
I take that back, there are really beautiful things to take from business,
as long as you can see past the superficial sheen.
Dear Rowena Galam, our entire story is just fucking ridiculous when you say it out loud.
No comments:
Post a Comment