HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Wednesday, February 07, 2007 and the same black line that was drawn on you, was drawn on me/ has drawn me in, sixth avenue heartache. i'm in the library, reading Kagan's The limits of morality. last night i read Mitchell's Colonising Egypt: An Appearance of Order my education in new york has been thoroughly destabilising, in thought, morality. but in 6 months, i have learnt the value of doubt. i like where i study. it breaks you down, the same way you would be put in a room without light, and made to confess your secrets. and as each secret was divulged, she realised everything that she had come to know which intrinsic to her as the muscle fibres that constituted the heart, was merely a form of bribery. as the secrets unravelled, like nerves, she felt her body falling apart. each piece of knowledge you know must be spat out, with blood, to deliver yourself from the place where they locked you. and the moment you divulge these secrets, you will be free, but you will also have lost your clothes, your hair, everything that reeked of you, everything that was of you. and maybe they will release you, and finally you will cherish that white, impossible light, you took for granted. and maybe in complete absence, you will be finally be in a state absent of expectations, and life will assume a dimension of intensity you never known before. posted by dawn # 5:51 PM Comments: Great work. # posted by Anonymous : 2:55 PM Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] a roomful of white gratefulness. Excuse me but can I be you for a whileMy dog won't... i carry myself in myself splitpapayas.com 当年 trainstop (not sure if i got the translation right) the wages of dying is love MMMMMMM SPLITPAPAYAS [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

and the same black line that was drawn on you, was drawn on me/ has drawn me in, sixth avenue heartache.

i'm in the library, reading Kagan's The limits of morality. last night i read Mitchell's Colonising Egypt: An Appearance of Order my education in new york has been thoroughly destabilising, in thought, morality. but in 6 months, i have learnt the value of doubt. i like where i study. it breaks you down, the same way you would be put in a room without light, and made to confess your secrets. and as each secret was divulged, she realised everything that she had come to know which intrinsic to her as the muscle fibres that constituted the heart, was merely a form of bribery. as the secrets unravelled, like nerves, she felt her body falling apart. each piece of knowledge you know must be spat out, with blood, to deliver yourself from the place where they locked you. and the moment you divulge these secrets, you will be free, but you will also have lost your clothes, your hair, everything that reeked of you, everything that was of you.

and maybe they will release you, and finally you will cherish that white, impossible light, you took for granted. and maybe in complete absence, you will be finally be in a state absent of expectations, and life will assume a dimension of intensity you never known before.

posted by dawn # 5:51 PM

Comments:

Great work.

# posted by

Anonymous : 2:55 PM