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 Friday, November 09, 2007 in my own time i have always had wonderful friends. i have wonderful parents. they all have wanted me to be happy. you deserve to be happy, they have all said. for some, the revolution necessitated violence, a violence overthrow of the past, the wiping of names off the slate of memory. sometimes, i would remember, lost names. i wanted to finish the nightmare, to see it to its end. i didn't want to be woken. i wanted my friends to leave me in my dreams to chase that predator. i didn't want them to suppress that nightmare. these days, i am learning to be happy on my own terms, as i slowly learn that the only happiness one has is that which one holds in her own hands. previously, my happiness was held in another's hands. living in ithaca, living finally, on my own, i hold my happiness in my own hands. i will finish the nightmare. when it has finished repeating itself, i will blow it out. in my own time. posted by dawn # 7:31 PM Comments: 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] Second winter just a thought shorter days dilemmas and thought experiments remembering shandong in the supermarket poem raspberry the art of books changing days [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

Friday, November 09, 2007

in my own time

i have always had wonderful friends. i have wonderful parents. they all have wanted me to be happy. you deserve to be happy, they have all said. for some, the revolution necessitated violence, a violence overthrow of the past, the wiping of names off the slate of memory.

sometimes, i would remember, lost names. i wanted to finish the nightmare, to see it to its end. i didn't want to be woken. i wanted my friends to leave me in my dreams to chase that predator. i didn't want them to suppress that nightmare.

these days, i am learning to be happy on my own terms, as i slowly learn that the only happiness one has is that which one holds in her own hands. previously, my happiness was held in another's hands. living in ithaca, living finally, on my own, i hold my happiness in my own hands. i will finish the nightmare. when it has finished repeating itself, i will blow it out. in my own time.

posted by dawn # 7:31 PM

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