I cry with joy every time I watch The Hobbit trailer. I feel like I’m getting my childhood back :)
(via fuckyeahthehobbitmovie)
February 21st, 2012
February 18th, 2012
(Source: firstbook, via iheartclassics)
“From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood. There was poetry for quiet companionship. There was adventure when she tired of quiet hours. There would be love stories when she came into adolescence and when she wanted to feel a closeness to someone she could read a biography. On that day when she first knew she could read, she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived.” ― Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Photo by Dimitri Caceaune)
This reminds me a lot of the eulogy I wrote for Dad. Obviously, this is written with a hell of a lot more style but I stated that I could be with Dad forever, in every phrase, sentence and quote, with every page turn and cover opening, he is with me.
February 13th, 2012
Dream (again)
I had the best dream this morning. We lived in some beach town for the summer. Mom had work and I stayed home to take care of Dad. He was doing beautifully. He could walk and talk a little, his spirits were up and we laughed like old times. I could tell he was still sick but I felt like we were winning.
And then I watched some weird music video, it was a strange animation and it was supposed to be some Kurt Cobain song about his wife and daughter who he was about to leave behind. The lyrics were something like, “she’s my Diana but I feel like I must go home”. And I knew it was the end of the dream.
I woke up and cried. For those first few moments of consciousness I thought Dad was going to be okay, we would get him through and we could all be happy again.
February 9th, 2012
Poetry is an abstraction blooded.
Wallace Stevens, paraphrased from Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction (via wwnorton)
Children of the Mind, Orson Scott Card (F, 20s, tight grey jeans, sparkly silver docs, long red hair, L train) http://bit.ly/wQegi9
Seemingly, a girl after my own Pop’s heart.
February 4th, 2012
3 Minutes of Pure Joy
The highlight of my work day yesterday was a fellow carrying a copy of American Gods.
“Do you like Neil Gaiman??!!” I asked excitedly. Then he did the best thing — he asked for my recommendations and feelings about Neil Gaiman.
Needless to say he now has a list in his head of what to read next.
From the moment I met her I thought - you too? And I could see by the look in her eyes that she also felt it.
These words punched me straight in the gut.
Over the course of my life I have been lucky enough to meet several people (some have left, others have stuck around) with whom I have shared a connection that was recognized immediately. Soul mates, if you will. But not in the romantic, one person who was put on this earth just for me, way. Because I don’t believe in that. But more in the you are my kindred spirit, a friend, and you understand because you’ve been there too way. I think it’s the sad parts, the scars, the lonely places in our histories that tie us together more often than the happy things. It is equal parts terrifying and a huge relief to know someone before you even really know them. You know?
(via monkeychow)
(via wwnorton)
