COMMENT COMENT COMMENT

 

 AHHHHH

i wouldnt mind having nails like these. except i'm too lazy and don't have the patience to do it.





Mamihlapinatapai
"A look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start."

that's deep.

from this weather, i've learned that different kinds of music are required for

fuzzy rain
normal rain
pouring rain
water dripping off in the aftermath of rain
thunder/lightning
wind
tornado warnings


etc.

rain, i'm waiting.

the wonderful thing about having gigantic size 9 feet is you can find shoes 75% off.

my boots came. tehee.

i'm kinda failing at blogging.
mostly i lounge around in my pjs and sulk about not being able to go where i want to go..

i realize this has turned into a blog about art, photography, fashion, design, music, blah blah blah. i suppose it will continue this way.

( and so the bears came calling )

aps are DONE
they were nice
very cathartic.

now i can returrn my textbooks
jump a bit higher
fly fly flyyyyyyyy

hehe
im in a good mood.




the UPS man is amazing.
he is like santa, except he actually exists.

when he rings the doorbell and i can run down the stairs
release my carnal savagery
rip a cardboard box to shreds
explode the plastic bags
and REVEAL THE MYSTERY PACKAGE...!

yes, getting a box from the UPS man is a big deal.
especially when i discover


...calcium pills.



oh and apparently they are for me, the milk hater. T_T




this stuff always puts me in a good mood




wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee

When I close a book
I open life.
I hear
faltering cries
among harbours.
Copper ignots
slide down sand-pits
to Tocopilla.
Night time.
Among the islands
our ocean
throbs with fish,
touches the feet, the thighs,
the chalk ribs
of my country.
The whole of night
clings to its shores, by dawn
it wakes up singing
as if it had excited a guitar.

The ocean’s surge is calling.
The wind
calls me
and Rodriguez calls,
and Jose Antonio—
I got a telegram
from the “Mine” Union
and the one I love
(whose name I won’t let out)
expects me in Bucalemu.

No book has been able
to wrap me in paper,
to fill me up
with typography,
with heavenly imprints
or was ever able
to bind my eyes,
I come out of books to people orchards
with the hoarse family of my song,
to work the burning metals
or to eat smoked beef
by mountain firesides.
I love adventurous
books,
books of forest or snow,
depth or sky
but hate
the spider book
in which thought
has laid poisonous wires
to trap the juvenile
and circling fly.
Book, let me go.
I won’t go clothed
in volumes,
I don’t come out
of collected works,
my poems
have not eaten poems—
they devour
exciting happenings,
feed on rough weather,
and dig their food
out of earth and men.
I’m on my way
with dust in my shoes
free of mythology:
send books back to their shelves,
I’m going down into the streets.
I learned about life
from life itself,
love I learned in a single kiss
and could teach no one anything
except that I have lived
with something in common among men,
when fighting with them,
when saying all their say in my song.

Pablo Neruda

ok i am a failz poster. things aren't going to kick up again until the summer. sigh.


i realize i've been slowly sucked into the world of fashion [photography, anways].
...not that it's going to change the way i dress.


 

( CLOTHES! *pulls a jasmine* )

( Why the Books We Pore Over At 12 May Be the Most Important Reading We Ever Do )