tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32388529847804798722024-03-05T06:08:59.007+01:00After youR.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-53445748473214727962016-03-04T23:06:00.003+01:002016-03-04T23:06:28.455+01:00Once upon a time, in a land where archetypes dwell…
I knew
Fingers tighten on the notion of a pen with a nib like a barb that snags aching flesh to bleed onto paper.
I knew a woman
Once upon a time a story’s sharp, pristine acid is immutable, the barest etch an exhalation of a truth to be found and a truth in the finding.
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones
“Writing things down doesn’t make R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-54092214973237553832014-10-27T15:26:00.002+01:002014-10-27T15:33:30.504+01:00An Alchemy of Transcendence
All the new thinking is about loss.
In this it resembles all the old thinking.
The idea, for example, that each particular erases
the luminous clarity of a general idea. That the clown-
faced woodpecker probing the dead sculpted trunk
of that black birch is, by his presence,
some tragic falling off from a first world
of undivided light. Or the other notion that,
because there R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-28122202182543909082014-06-16T22:24:00.004+02:002014-06-16T22:25:26.244+02:00In transit"Tell me now about entanglement."“Einstein’s spooky action at a distance.” “Is it related to quantum theory?” “No. I mean it’s not a theory. It’s proven.” “How is it all again?” “When you separate an entwined particle and move both parts away from the other, even at opposite ends of the universe, if you alter or affect one, the other will be identically altered or affected.” “Spooky. Even at R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-36086062483250484432014-06-12T23:54:00.002+02:002014-06-16T22:25:00.064+02:00Malta, 3:00 am ”People fall out of the world sometimes, but they always leave traces. Little things we can’t quite account for. Faces in photographs, luggage, half-eaten meals. Rings. Nothing is ever forgotten, not completely. And if something can be remembered, it can come back.”R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-39866846201627509772014-01-22T15:48:00.000+01:002014-01-22T15:48:01.372+01:00Kingdom comeR.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-58015872341779684192013-10-21T16:36:00.002+02:002013-10-21T16:39:31.511+02:00Almost narrative
I am not the first person you loved.You are not the first person I looked atwith a mouthful of forevers. Wehave both known loss like the sharp edgesof a knife. We have both lived with lipsmore scar tissue than skin. Our love cameunannounced in the middle of the night.Our love came when we’d given upon asking love to come. I thinkthat has to be partof its miracle.This is how we heal.I will R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-26907771485830607852013-09-27T16:51:00.003+02:002013-10-01T18:20:46.038+02:00St. Petersburg, 4:15 pm
“For, after all, you do grow up, you do outgrow your ideals, which turn to dust and ashes, which are shattered into fragments; and if you have no other life, you just have to build one up out of these fragments. And all the time your soul is craving and longing for something else.
And in vain does the dreamer rummage about in his old dreams, raking them over as though they were aR.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-54254555314557275992013-09-11T23:09:00.000+02:002013-09-11T23:09:37.727+02:00IcarusI tried a-beggin' on the cabin floorBut the churches have run out of candlesTurn one day in the cathedralI finally lit you a candleAnd all along the vaulted hallsThe virgins did smile from their mantles
"I keep thinking, you know, that we'd have so much more to say to each other. But this isn't the way to do it. Here, come closer. Why don't we count to ten, love, while the R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-83344785856146403002012-10-21T05:28:00.000+02:002012-10-21T05:30:21.119+02:00somnium
a voice came and went, a sensation unto itself, slow and rough
breath ghosting across her wrist
glancing and white silences when her skin was awake
it hurt
in her mind's eye, every touch, all at once clumsy and graceful, was a memory,
that mocked as much as gave,
Dangerous,
(no, never that)
beloved
R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0Saône-et-Loire, France46.5827512 4.48667145.8843172 3.2232435000000006 47.281185199999996 5.7500985tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-46165799178502681962009-09-01T01:02:00.007+02:002012-02-09T04:17:36.066+01:00V. 2.0embracing rainR.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-4677784734099354012009-08-18T22:10:00.009+02:002009-08-19T01:07:17.008+02:00*facepalm*The shelving units have been ready all summer, but I still prefer to sit in the middle of piled-up paperwork, curled-up Post-Its, CD covers and photographs bound in twine that formed a curious barricade on one side of my room.And whenever someone asks when I'd get around to organizing stuff, I just tell them that there are things that simply can't get done for shit. That answer, coupled with a R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-33701710950199261952009-08-17T21:01:00.003+02:002009-08-17T21:12:45.062+02:00ConfessionalI planned on doing a cover of Empire of the Sun's Walking on a Dream in Amsterdam (maybe I still will); this version by Kate Miller-Heidke just knocked my socks off. A great interpretation with soul, baby.Walking on a dreamHow can I explainTalking to myselfWill I see againWe are always running for the thrill of it thrill of itAlways pushing up the hill searching for the thrill of itOn and on and R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-373851194569190962009-08-15T07:33:00.003+02:002009-08-17T20:52:52.336+02:00twice upon a timeWhile others find their strength in holding on, your strength comes from letting go.As if it had taken far too much giving to be this empty. I can only take.(But this is the part I don't say out loud.)When lives are forged upon lives, our parallel stories start anew, and every fragment of ourselves we don't relinquish to the other --(His stretched-out soul still burned with rancor and desire leftR.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-20855400223486367802009-08-13T23:04:00.006+02:002009-08-14T04:32:42.817+02:00fashion statement"So what do you think eh?""Riigghhttt.""C'mon, who doesn't want a touch of irony here and there?""The only place that's touched by any kind of irony is your head.""What?""Ok, but not when we're out in public together.""Aww, where's the fun in that?""You know, I think you're having way too much fun with this."Well, he did agree to be the straight man to my riot act (shrugs)R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-20426034133023462752009-07-07T22:59:00.003+02:002009-08-13T23:34:37.122+02:00This got meI started crying around 0:50.What moves me so deeply about this sleeping little prince is his loyalty to a flower--the image of a rose shining within him like a flame within a lamp, even when he's asleep... And I realized he was even more fragile than I thought. Lamps must be protected. A gust of wind can blow them out.-A. de Saint-Exupery, from The Little PrinceR.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-22737929031951467562009-07-04T02:41:00.004+02:002009-07-04T02:48:30.116+02:00First Dance ( the beginning of us )Only Aliveby Jars of ClayI'm a fair weather friend I'm a colorless view but I'm willin' to make a deal If you think you can make some faith here inside I'll drive off and marry you I'm only alive with you I can't get by and I won't get through So put me in the river and let me say I do I'm only alive with you You're a sight for sore eyes and a newborn cry In a year where there are so few If you R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-77019442931737150192009-06-18T17:07:00.003+02:002009-07-30T20:55:36.992+02:00LuckyR.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-17598679513039242192009-06-13T08:57:00.011+02:002009-06-13T10:50:07.303+02:00Moving in"I'm off the clock for a half day. Do you need a hand in unpacking the remaining crates in the garage?""I'd honestly want to spare you, but if you can handle hauling up some of the pretty heavy antiques we'll get a good head start before the movers come around later today.""So they're all the old stuff you -- whoa, you didn't tell me you'd bring in your whole collection!""Relax. Just think of R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-28048292940578370752009-06-05T07:02:00.004+02:002009-06-05T07:13:34.466+02:00They're telling our story...If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead, don't try to explain the miracle. Kiss me on the lips. Like this.When lovers moan, they're telling our story.Like this.from Like This by Jalaluddin RumiR.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-55656502456841434872009-05-27T08:43:00.007+02:002009-05-28T07:07:00.501+02:00I hold with those who favor fireIf she leant forward, just a little, she would find his hand. She'd twine their fingers until his were curved tightly over the bank of hers. He was so near. It would be enough, and it would be nothing.She struggled now to be content with her place. It hadn't been so hard in the beginning. The healer was needed, not the girl. It was what she expected. It was all she'd known.In a few more days, he R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-19538042506575745492009-05-15T05:14:00.015+02:002009-06-10T04:49:57.973+02:00LilacsJe rêve et je me réveilleDans une odeur de lilasDe quel côté du sommeilT'ai-je ici laissé ou là"I've lived in the continent for over five years now."Five years. Long enough for some things to change."Don't you want to go back home?"His gaze clouded over. "Too much fresh air."She'd tried to look away, but the pull she felt towards his eyes was as strong as her guilt. She sighed. Even after all R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-46783760853351915722009-05-14T06:58:00.001+02:002009-05-14T07:01:15.988+02:00Then he woke her, and that burning heart he fed to her reverently, and she ate it as one fearing...... afterwards he went; not to be seen weeping. A ciascun’alma presa, La Vita Nuova, Chapter 3R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-52424838674803727582009-04-30T20:44:00.002+02:002009-05-01T20:55:46.172+02:00Stupid. Impulsive. Wonderful.For Leese and Alain.R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-89511342290708084432009-04-25T20:42:00.013+02:002009-05-03T06:54:10.502+02:00KhajurahoI am walking into your game, with all senses open. Cherish me by breaking the rules that embody me and you.On her last day, the sky was ever so close. It looked like the first dawn of the world."Every one needs a place to call their own, no matter who they are. I hope you'll remember that you'll always have refuge here."He opened his home to her. He opened his heart.Sanctuary.--------------------R.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3238852984780479872.post-81779077174585172952009-04-23T19:42:00.006+02:002009-04-28T07:31:50.636+02:00Mulholland Drive Ti volti e vedi la tua vita come la scia di un'elica..."He loves evenings like this, when the sky is clear.""Romantic young fellow.""That's not why I love him. He also loves it when it rains.""Melancholy young fellow.""That's not why I love him.""Then why?""Maybe no reason is even needed. I just do. But...it doesn't matter anymore."Te voglio bene assai ma tanto tanto bene saiR.A.L-S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12621315351834131730noreply@blogger.com0