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, September 22, 2008 ithaca ithaca is how the sun sets and i see the lights of trumansberg come on, while the sky is streaked with pink. ithaca is walking home past apple trees, playing with maxmus as he frisks his tail around and pretends to bite me. ithaca is the asian frat house overflowing with garbage. ithaca is how i run home, to a fridge filled with rajma, and pots bubbling with carrots, scallions and tomato puree and cumin seeds, an oven filled with mussels in white wine and tomatoes. ithaca is me holding victoria, and this is the best sushi and avocado we have eaten in our whole lives, ithaca is me finding secret places, me on a phone, 2 am, aching from having slept on his too-high shoulders through the night, somehow praying that the boy caught on interstate 81 in a broken car, waiting for the tow truck, will get home soon. posted by dawn # 5:00 PM Comments: so gorgeous. # posted by tanu : 6:54 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] consumed by the details of my life now. it mostly ... i have been stressed out. only just secured my sch... fireworks ithaca is gorges browntown it's been pure madness, and i have just moved into... bayard street red moon clambake cars and dirt [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, September 22, 2008

ithaca

ithaca is how the sun sets and i see the lights of trumansberg come on, while the sky is streaked with pink. ithaca is walking home past apple trees, playing with maxmus as he frisks his tail around and pretends to bite me. ithaca is the asian frat house overflowing with garbage. ithaca is how i run home, to a fridge filled with rajma, and pots bubbling with carrots, scallions and tomato puree and cumin seeds, an oven filled with mussels in white wine and tomatoes. ithaca is me holding victoria, and this is the best sushi and avocado we have eaten in our whole lives, ithaca is me finding secret places, me on a phone, 2 am, aching from having slept on his too-high shoulders through the night, somehow praying that the boy caught on interstate 81 in a broken car, waiting for the tow truck, will get home soon.

posted by dawn # 5:00 PM

Comments:

so gorgeous.

# posted by

tanu : 6:54 PM