T. S. Eliot's The Cocktail Party: "We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger."
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
best of.
documentary of the day: paris is burning
recipe of the day: broccoli &potato soup with fresh dill &mint
word of the day: temerarious
kabbalah thought of the day: Seeing the good brings Light to the situation, helping you to be more effective at dealing with the bad.
what is a day without a good documentary, a yummy homemmade soup, a new word, and a little kabbalah wisdom, really.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
two hours later:::
i picked out new frames today:
and for the first time ever i will have a pair of sunglasses i can actually wear and see with:
and just in case you were wondering - my pupils are perfectly centered and equidistant apart - pretty rare and amazing....yup, that's me.
Monday, February 25, 2008
today:
The following items have been shipped to you:
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Qty Item Price Shipped Subtotal
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1 Nikon D40 6.1MP Digital SL...
Shipped via UPS (estimated arrival date: 28-February-2008).
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Saturday, February 2, 2008
My desire deeply harnessed in your spine
Cocorosie
Honey Or Tar
I undressed you with my eyes i have
Maybe even raped you
In a dark and eerie corner of my mind
I tucked you there
And touched you in a dream last night
Pushed you aside when you entered
My thoughts at the wrong time
I have sat up upon your lap and
Saddled my thighs around your hips like ropes
I rode you on a chair and in the shower
And all the while i clung heavy to your back
My desire deeply harnessed in your spine
I'm riding recklessly though a thick and humid
Jungle growing anxious with the deep and primal
Yearning that stirs
Deeply pulsing up toward the surface
Like sap rising or honey or tar