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 Sunday, December 23, 2007 strong arms i spent the evening at his house, spilling over various things (soup, chicken, wine glasses) in the kitchen, apologizing, cozying up on the sofa with nice people. tonight i realise that i have no desire for touch, no desire to be touched. touch always carries with it old memories, certain shadows. something was telling me to touch him, and i lost all desire to touch. i do not know what it is, if it is that which i thought i left behind. we prayed in his car because we were afraid of the trees. there is something about this city that haunts. i came home, spent the night sketching and writing something up. the silent, strong arms of an empty book. i need some time on my own again. posted by dawn # 11:16 AM 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] thought candle on the water first day home. i'm tired, emotionally exhausted, ... betrayals hunger pangs papers and winter strangely familiar groundhogs week in review announcements! [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

Sunday, December 23, 2007

strong arms

i spent the evening at his house, spilling over various things (soup, chicken, wine glasses) in the kitchen, apologizing, cozying up on the sofa with nice people.

tonight i realise that i have no desire for touch, no desire to be touched. touch always carries with it old memories, certain shadows. something was telling me to touch him, and i lost all desire to touch. i do not know what it is, if it is that which i thought i left behind. we prayed in his car because we were afraid of the trees.

there is something about this city that haunts. i came home, spent the night sketching and writing something up. the silent, strong arms of an empty book. i need some time on my own again.

posted by dawn # 11:16 AM

Comments: