The Start Of A New Thing...

Youth.

Kids these days need to stop worrying so much. You got that bucket list of things you want to do before you die...DO IT! College? Don’t worry about college until you have fully lived. Not everyone needs college and not everyone needs to worry about college. IF you have a job you want to do, research and see if is doable without college. When you are young you don’t need to worry about anything, but learning to content with the happiness that you have and understanding that life isn’t going to stop being hard because you are out of school. Life is always going to be hard and the moment you understand that, will be the moment you stop worrying about how you are going to handle when things get hard.

The sun has finally set and night has fallen upon us.

Yet my heart is uneased by the notion that this night that has come to us will inevitably be my last.

No sorrow shall I feel for I have lived the life worth the freedom that comes with death.

Shall I beg death to hear my pleas? Shall I plead and reason with death to not rip my soul from me and cast me into the eternity in which my body remembers fully?

Death is not a bargainer. Death does not simply trade your soul for nothing. Nor does Death fain ignorance for the simple minded.

My time has come and my soul I will not bargain with Death for. I have lived a life worth living and now is my time to die a death I have died a thousand times before.

This night; however lovely, will be my last. I just pray the morning will be just as beautiful.

Weirdly anti-millennial articles have scraped the bottom of the barrel so hard that they are now two feet down into the topsoil

My mind?

My mind absolutely hates me right now. It won’t help me think of anything good to write and I feel like it is just messing with me right now, but I know that before long I will think of something good because that is how this goes. So, I apologize for never being on here, but I don’t want to post anything that I don’t have any faith in.

Art

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“The Cinderella that the Grimm brothers collected is the one where these ugly sisters cut off their heels, and cut off their toes to fit into the glass slipper. And the prince realizes that it’s not the right bride because there’s blood in the shoe. It was very bloody. And then, at the end, the enchanted birds peck out the eyes of the sisters at the wedding– Cinderella’s wedding. So they’re both maimed in their feet, and blinded in their eyes. [Laughs] Very happy ending. That has an interesting little coda, which is that they collected it from the poor house in Marburg. They were students in Marburg. They began when they were very young, collecting stories. So they were students at Marburg University, and they heard that there was an old woman in the alms house, i.e., in the poor house, who knew a lot of stories. And they asked to see her, and to collect her stories, and she didn’t want to see them. She refused. So they paid the daughter of the alms house director. They gave her a little— she was a little girl— and asked her to— you know— “you go in and ask her to tell you a story and then you come out and tell it to us, and we’ll write it down.” And the little girl did this. And this is the Cinderella she told. And my feeling, my interpretation of this, is that the old woman in the alms house was passing on a female secret, a very, very cruel version of revenge amongst women. And she didn’t want the fine gentlemen from the University to know this kind of story. It was a kind of promise between women, between generations of women, that if you’re badly treated, you will escape. And there will be a wonderful revenge.”

— Marina Warner: “Fairy Tale: A Very Short Introduction” | Talks at Google [source] (via goldentailedmermaids)

What is love in your opinion?

“i love you. i want us both to eat well” and also, “let me love what i cannot see” and also “you can fuck anyone but with whom can you sit in water?” and also “losing myself in you i find selves unimaginably mine” and also “love is this: two solitudes that protect and touch and greet each other” and also “I wanted us to be entirely alone on this earth, entirely alone under the sky” and also “blow all my friendships just to sit in hell with you” and also “when i love i become liquid light” and also “won’t you come into the garden? i would like my roses to see you” andalso “i deliver myself over to the unknown, in coming to you, i am without reserves or defences, stripped entirely, into the unknown” andalso “i slithered here from eden just to be outside your door” and also “i loved her to the point of invention” and also “you rain on me and i like the earth receive you” and also “let’s plunge into the deep again my love” and also, always–“everyone can forget us–as long as you remember” 

Distant Regard

by Tony Hoagland

If I knew I would be dead by this time next year I believe I would spend the months from now till then writing thank-you notes to strangers and acquaintances, telling them, “You really were a great travel agent,” or “I never got the taste of your kisses out of my mouth.” or “Watching you walk across the room was part of my destination.” It would be the equivalent, I think, of leaving a chocolate wrapped in shiny foil on the pillow of a guest in a hotel– “Hotel of earth, where we resided for some years together,” I start to say, before I realize it is a terrible cliche, and stop, and then go on, forgiving myself in a mere split second because now that I’m dying, I just go forward like water, flowing around obstacles and second thoughts, not getting snagged, just continuing with my long list of thank-yous, which seems to naturally expand to include sunlight and wind, and the aspen trees which gleam and shimmer in the yard as if grateful for being soaked last night by the irrigation system invented by an individual to whom I am quietly grateful. Outside it is autumn, the philosophical season, when cold air sharpens the intellect; the hills are red and copper in their shaggy majesty. The clouds blow overhead like governments and years. It took me a long time to understand the phrase “distant regard,” but I am grateful for it now, and I am grateful for my heart, that turned out to be good, after all; and grateful for my mind, to which, in retrospect, I can see I have never been sufficiently kind.

Jamie Lee Curtis recreates iconic angry photos of herself

Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices, Sylvia Plath

[ID: I have had my chances. I have tried and tried. I have stitched life into me like a rare organ, And walked carefully, precariously, like something rare.]