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

Thursday, March 13, 2008
arcana imperii
the secret to happiness is never asking for more than you can have. some people. how do i explain that my apples would have no taste to them? they would have to enter into the world of mortality, the symbolic order of death, first. the more they asked of me, the more i locked shut into myself. i entered into the world of kafka, a world of silence, and i have pledged a vow of silence. in the end, gregor died with a rotting apple in his flesh. this is how history is made. i finally slept all right last night, it's been some time since.

[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] traveling
memories
beautiful sunset
mister sun
beautiful
so sweet, and so cold
the raven
science and biology
i try to say goodbye and i choke
sunday brunch at the carriage house! and homemade ...

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