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 Monday, February 25, 2008 i try to say goodbye and i choke it used to be that something in me would break whenever the subway pulled away from the guitar strains of some musician in new york, hard for that seduction and loneliness now. union square, christopher street. watching macy gray's i try on youtube, and suddenly new york stabs me. these days, days of shopping at midnight, brie french toast and blueberry campote on sundays driving to rachael yamagata's i want you at night, watching the cat watch me as she crooks her tail while hiding in the fireplace in the blue living room of our house, blue like a geriatric home. ithaca is home, the home that defines the outside and other, the other that i love and loathe. new york's become mythical, the source of my desires and dreams, i dream, dream so bad, of spending summer in manhattan. i smell spring in my room today. posted by dawn # 2:26 PM Comments: the crocuses/crocii/coquettes are blooming! spring is nearly here! wish you gerberas, love. # posted by coloured light : 3:28 AM ?! rachael yamagata's i want you at night?! tell me more! pak # posted by Anonymous : 5:51 PM ah...we suddenly got snowstormed, like 5 " of snow. i retract my statement that spring is here. oh gerberas are perfect:) i wish you...coconuts! and pak, no, it's "i want you" at night. sorry my punctuation. and im not telling you how to cook soba, cos you're going to go all chef-y on me. and the way you cook and i cook are different. you cook restauranty food, i cook (twice a day) everyday and for survival. so you can imagine im less creative and very practical about cost and time. # posted by Anonymous : 7:18 AM 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] sunday brunch at the carriage house! and homemade ... metaphors fridays, at the public service center learning things clothes announcements sleeping animals replying to yantai my funny valentine home animal lives [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

Monday, February 25, 2008

i try to say goodbye and i choke

it used to be that something in me would break whenever the subway pulled away from the guitar strains of some musician in new york, hard for that seduction and loneliness now. union square, christopher street. watching macy gray's i try on youtube, and suddenly new york stabs me. these days, days of shopping at midnight, brie french toast and blueberry campote on sundays driving to rachael yamagata's i want you at night, watching the cat watch me as she crooks her tail while hiding in the fireplace in the blue living room of our house, blue like a geriatric home. ithaca is home, the home that defines the outside and other, the other that i love and loathe. new york's become mythical, the source of my desires and dreams, i dream, dream so bad, of spending summer in manhattan. i smell spring in my room today.

posted by dawn # 2:26 PM

Comments:

the crocuses/crocii/coquettes are blooming! spring is nearly here! wish you gerberas, love.

# posted by

coloured light : 3:28 AM

?! rachael yamagata's i want you at night?! tell me more!

pak

# posted by

Anonymous : 5:51 PM

ah...we suddenly got snowstormed, like 5 " of snow. i retract my statement that spring is here. oh gerberas are perfect:) i wish you...coconuts!

and pak, no, it's "i want you" at night. sorry my punctuation. and im not telling you how to cook soba, cos you're going to go all chef-y on me. and the way you cook and i cook are different. you cook restauranty food, i cook (twice a day) everyday and for survival. so you can imagine im less creative and very practical about cost and time.

# posted by

Anonymous : 7:18 AM