LC

their words mostly noises.

2009-10-23T03:42:52Z

AUGHHGHIUA#)($*RIFA)( *&
i am so frustrated with so many things
and it's even more frustrating because every time i tell myself it doesn't matter, convince myself to be happy instead, something else stupid comes and whacks me in the head.

i just want a place that's safe, that feels like home; i want a comforting, familiar voice to soothe me; and i want to figure out who i am.

i want to sleep,
and sleep,
and sleep,
and fall into my dreams until the sun promises to shine again.

not a real green dress

2009-10-19T03:06:34Z

all i can really say about how i feel right now is that i'm listening to love shack. seriously, one of my favourite songs in the whole history of music. i want to dance to it forever.

my bed has currently been turned into a couch, and its weird how much it changes the whole feel of my bedroom. i'm so content so just chill out on it all the time. and that's what i do - i haven't actually slept in my own bed in so long. i'm kind of excited to be able to wake up to the misery of a monday in the comfort of my own bed. it's so much easier to not wake up when you're at your own home, haha.

speaking of our home, it may not turn out to be so comfortable aftre all. when i came home this afternoon i was told that just a few hours previously, firetrucks had swarmed the street in front of our house, in response to our carbon monoxide/dioxide/whatever the bad one is detector's alarm. as if everything else wrong with our house isn't enough... apparently now an inspector is supposed to come to the house, which will be very interesting. i'm pretty sure this place breaks every by-law that exists in the realm of housing. let's just say i'm not letting myself get too attached to this location.

there is a lovely hill behind our house, though, and i love to go there and visit. today i climbed to the top of it and lay down in the cold to catch the last rays of the sun. i watched the colours in the sky, and with the sun setting it looked so much like a giant rainbow. there was a hot air balloon, lazily floating by, and the birds were settling in on the telephone poles by the hundreds. i think it's my new favourite spot to be alone in. or with ben, because we can enjoy it without needing to speak about it, which makes it seem more magical.

last night he listened to me ramble on, in a rather drunken stupor, about how frustrating this world is. i hate the fact that everyone is so obsessed with money, i'm so convinced the world would be a better place without it. he says we should just go live in the jungle instead - problem solved.

ugh i was all excited to write and ramble for a while, but now that i'm sitting down to do it, i'm finding it difficult. another time, maybe.

autumn fever

2009-10-06T21:59:14Z

autumn has long been my favourite season, and i think october is by far my favourite month. (well, alright, august is a close second, but it's still up there). there is something about this time of year, right now, that makes everything seem tinged with perfection. i feel like autumn tints everything with reflection, nostalgia, authenticity, and intruige. i spend my days walking around town, smiling at the people who pass me by, wondering about each of them. i mean, i do that anyways, but somehow the fall weather makes it seem like they must all be incredibly beautiful, that there is so much depth and importance to them. my curiosity is heightened. every object i see i look at with a fond recollection of something or other, and shuffling through the changing leaves in the crisp air just makes me feel alive. i don't even know how to word it any further, except those words i've already used: nostalgic, reflective, intruiging, beautiful, authentic, perfect, fondness..

it's just a good time to be here and alive, happy and surviving with only the things i need and nothing more. that's another good point - it makes me feel very simplistic, like i don't need anything in excess. when the world is this beautiful, what more COULD you possibly want or need? it inspires my creativity, it sparks my enthusiasm for life, yet without a wild exuberance - it's more like content satisfaction. again, reflection.

can i say anything more? i think i have to stop here or i'll repeat myself for hours. maybe i'll go for another walk. i could spend days outside, wandering the streets by myself and admiring all the bits and peices of life i pass.

my kind of learning.

2009-09-28T16:09:22Z

i am so sick and tired of living in my happy little bubble, as if i'm the only thing that matters, and not appreciating everything for what it's worth. i waste so much time on the internet - there are some truly amazing websites that can educate, inspire, and provoke thoughts, but how often do i look at them? nope, i read webcomics, look at pictures on facebook, check my emails. yeah, fuck that. i think it's time to do something a bit more meaningful with my life.

i don't want to be here, in this society, where the mindset is completely backwards from my own. i keep trying to fit into it, but i just don't mesh. this isn't my sort of fun. on a beautiful day like today, where the sun is shining after a storm, the wind is whipping around, everything is alive and fresh and it feels like the essence of autumn.. my roommates are inside, watching movies, again. i don't want to live my life in bed, watching stupid stories that other people create in order to chase fame and money. i want to be outside, in a warm sweater and a good pair of hiking boots, walking some old trail full of coloured leaves and happy dogs. i want to sit down with a full bottle of water, a pre-packed sandwich, and a good book, and i want to relax and enjoy everything that is out there. and then i want to come home and DO something that will mean something to someone. that sounds very vague, i know, and i don't know what it is that i'm going to do. but surely there is something i can help with. with all the problems in this world, there must be something i can devote myself to improving.

ben came over last night, somewhat unexpectedly, and although overtired, we had the best conversation. we talked about getting out of here, silly little fantasies like buying a sailboat and sailing around the world, stopping and canoeing onto some remote little island and setting camp there. and then monday morning rolls around, as it always does, reminding us that we've subsrcibed ourselves to so much responsibility for things we don't even care about. yeah, school is interesting, it's incredible to be able to learn, it expands my mind.. but i'm not passionate about trekking to campus to sit in a room for an hour and be talked at. ben isn't passionate about waking up before the sun rises to sit in a lab and grow plants. why is it that - and yes, i think you're guilty of it too, i think this whole world buys into it - we go about our daily business, living unsatisfactory lives, and instead of improving them, we try to convince ourselves that we are happy? there is so much potential, so much joy to be found in just about everything, but just because it;s there doesn't mean we have it. we need to get off our lazy asses, throw down our responsibility to some greater being, to some desire for power, and start being responsible for our own needs.

and now i stop, sigh, take a moment and remember to breathe. it's not easy, getting out of this. but i want it - i need it. i am terrified of dying, and part of the reason is because i haven't truly lived yet. i've been wasting myself away, and if i'm going to die, then i want to be able to be okay with it, because i'm happy about the life i've lived. i don't want to be grasping for straws at the end, hoping for just one more chance to be better, to have more fun, to do something real. i won't be a slave to this great ideal life that we've set ourselves up for. who's stupid idea was that, anyways?

i have some serious thinking to do. i feel like it's time to go hide in the woods for a while. this society is fucked.

kennethcrow @ 2009-09-12T20:47:00

2009-09-13T00:53:03Z

The animals in that country

In that country the animals
have the faces of people:

the ceremonial
cats possessing the streets

the fox run
politely to earth, the huntsmen
standing around him, fixed
in their tapestryof manners

the bull, embroidered
with blood and given
an elegant death, trumpets, his name
stamped on him, heraldic brand
because

(when he rolled
on the sand, sword in his heart, the teeth
in his blue mouth were human)

he is really a man

even the wolves, holding resonant
conversations in their
forests thickened with legend.

    In this country the animals
    have the faces of
    animals.

   Their eyes
   flash once in car headlights
   and are gone.

   Their deaths are not elegant.

   They have the faces of
    no-one.

by Margaret Atwood

we lay waste our powers

2009-07-21T00:46:33Z

the world is too much with us; late and soon,
getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
little we see in nature that is ours;
we have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
this sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
the winds that will be howling at all hours,
and are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
for this, for everything, we are out of tune;
it moves us not. -- great god! i'd rather be
a pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
so might i, standing on this pleasant lea,
have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
have sight of proteus rising from the sea;
or hear old triton blow his wreathed horn.
- william wordsworth, sonnet XIV

at what sweet love of hers the springtime smiles

2009-06-20T23:10:09Z

this is a (very long) poem we looked at in european studies last year. i really enjoyed that class because i learned a lot from it - i felt like i came away more cultured, more aware of many different things. there are a few poems, pieces of artwork, and ideas that we studied which i think of often, and this is one of them. it never fails to surprise me how much meaning there is in a poem, most of which is hidden.. the whole idea of tedium in this one really strikes me.

Night Song Of A Wandering Shepherd In Asia

Why are you there, Moon, in the sky? Tell me
why you are there, silent Moon.
You rise at night, and go
contemplating deserts: then you set.
Are you not sated yet
with riding eternal roads?
Are you not weary, still wishing
to gaze at these valleys?
It mirrors your life,
the life of a shepherd.
He rises at dawn,
he drives his flock over the fields, sees
the flocks, the streams, the grass:
tired at evening he rests:
expecting nothing more.
Tell me, O Moon, what life is
worth to a shepherd, or
your life to you? Tell me: where
does my brief wandering lead,
or your immortal course?

Like an old man, white-haired, infirm,
barefoot and half-naked,
with a heavy load on his shoulders,
running onwards, panting,
over mountains, through the valleys,
on sharp stones, in sand and thickets,
wind and storm, when the days burn
and when they freeze,
through torrents and marshes,
falling, rising, running faster,
faster, without rest or pause,
torn, bleeding: till he halts
where all his efforts,
all the roads, have led:
a dreadful, vast abyss
into which he falls, headlong, forgetting all.
Virgin Moon,
such is the life of man.

Man is born in labour:
and there's a risk of death in being born.
The very first things he learns
are pain and anguish: from the first
his mother and father
console him for being born.
Then as he grows
they both support him, go on
trying, with words and actions,
to give him heart,
console him merely for being human:
there's nothing kinder
a parent can do for a child.
Yet why bring one who needs
such comforting to life,
and then keep him alive?
If life is a misfortune,
why grant us such strength?
Such is the human condition,
inviolate Moon.
But you who are not mortal,
care little, maybe, for my words.

Yet you, lovely, eternal wanderer,
so pensive, perhaps you understand
this earthly life,
this suffering, the sighs that exist:
what this dying is, this last
fading of our features,
the vanishing from earth, the losing
all familiar, loving company.
And you must understand
the 'why' of things, and view the fruits
of morning, evening,
silence, endless passing time.
You know (you must) at what sweet love
of hers the springtime smiles,
the use of heat, and whom the winter
benefits with frost.
You know a thousand things, reveal
a thousand things still hidden from a simple shepherd.
Often as I gaze at you
hanging so silently, above the empty plain
that the sky confines with its far circuit:
or see you steadily
follow me and my flock:
or when I look at the stars blazing in the sky,
musing I say to myself:
'What are these sparks,
this infinite air, this deep
infinite clarity? What does this
vast solitude mean? And what am I?'
So I question. About these
magnificent, immeasurable mansions,
and their innumerable family:
and the steady urge, the endless motion
of all celestial and earthly things,
circling without rest,
always returning to their starting place:
I can't imagine
their use or fruit. But you, deathless maiden,
I'm sure, know everything.
This I know, and feel,
that others, perhaps, may gain
benefit and comfort from
the eternal spheres, from
my fragile being: but to me life is evil.

O flock at peace, O happy creatures,
I think you have no knowledge of your misery!
How I envy you!
Not only because
you're almost free of worries:
quickly forgetting all hardship,
every hurt, each deep fear:
but because you never know tedium.
When you lie in the shade, on the grass,
you're peaceful and content:
and you spend most of the year
untroubled, in that state.
If I sit on the grass, in the shade,
weariness clouds my mind,
and, as if a thorn pricked me,
sitting there I'm still further
from finding peace and rest.
Yet there's nothing I need,
and I've known no reason for tears.

I can't say what you enjoy
or why: but you're fortunate.
O my flock: there's little still
I enjoy, and that's not all I regret.
If you could speak, I'd ask you:
'Tell me, why are all creatures
at peace, idle, lying
in sweet ease: why, if I lie down
to rest, does boredom seize me?'

If I had wings, perhaps,
to fly above the clouds
and count the stars, one by one,
or roam like thunder from crest to crest,
I'd be happier, my sweet flock,
I'd be happier, bright moon.
Or perhaps my thought
strays from truth, gazing at others' fate:
perhaps whatever form,
whatever state
it's in, its cradle or its fold,
the day of birth is dark to one that's born.

kennethcrow @ 2009-04-21T18:12:00

2009-04-21T22:14:39Z

i look for meaning in all the wrong places.
i can't stop myself.

yeah right.

2008-10-02T02:21:22Z

sometimes i wish i smoked just so it would give me the excuse to go outside and be alone and be angry.

i stole this from a 2_lines post to further share

2008-08-05T16:31:36Z

this is beautifully done.

And I wanna play hide and seek, give you my clothes, tell you I love your shoes, sit on the steps when you take a bath, and massage your neck, and kiss your face, and hold your hand and go for a walk. Not mind when you eat my food, and meet you at Rudy's and talk about the day. Talk about your day and laugh at your paranoia. Give you tapes you don't listen to, watch great films... watch terrible films. And tell you about the TV program I saw the night before, and not laugh at your jokes. Want you in the morning, but let you sleep for awhile. Tell you how much I love your eyes, your lips, your neck. Sit on the steps smoking 'til your neighbors come home. Sit on the steps smoking 'til you come home. And worry when you're late, and be amazed when you're early. I'd give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance. Be sorry when I'm wrong and happy when you forgive me. Look at your photo's and wish I'd known you forever. Hear your voice in my ear, feel your skin on my skin. And get scared when you're angry. I tell you you're gorgeous. And hug you when you're anxious and hold you when you're hurt and want you when I smell you and offend you when I touch you and whimper when I'm next to you, and whimper when I'm not. Smother you in the night and get cold when you take the blanket and hot when you don't. Melt when you smile, dissolve when you laugh. But not understand how you think I'm rejecting you when I'm not rejecting you and wonder how you could think I'd ever reject you. And wonder who you are. But I accept you anyway. And tell you about the tree angel and enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you. I'd buy you presents you don't want and take them away again and ask you to marry me and you say no again but keep on asking because though you think I don't mean it but I always have from the first time I asked you. I wander the city thinking, but I'm empty without you, but I want what you want and think I'm losing myself.
But I'll tell you the worst me and try and give you the best of me because you don't deserve any less. Answer your questions when I'd rather not. And tell you the truth when I really don't want to. And try to be honest because I knew you prefer it. And think it's all over but hang on for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life, forget who I am. And let me try and get closer you.

... And somehow communicate some of the over-whelming, undying, overpowering, unconditional, all-encompassing, heart-enriching, mind-expanding, ongoing, never-ending love I have for you.

kennethcrow @ 2008-06-15T21:34:00

2008-06-16T01:34:55Z

words don't seem adequate anymore

ha ha hah

2008-04-03T00:22:07Z

you may suck, world,
but i'm still smiling.

william butler yeats.

2008-03-11T03:16:39Z

i made my song a coat
covered with embroideries
out of old mythologies
from heel to throat;
but the fools caught it,
wore it in the world's eyes
as though they'd wrought it.
song, let them take it,
for there's more enterprise
in walking naked.

kennethcrow @ 2008-03-10T22:49:00

2008-03-11T03:08:49Z

curiosity killed the cat,

but satisfaction brought it back.

underwater astonishments

2008-02-05T00:35:59Z

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/view/id/206

you simply have to watch this. it is amazing.
this sort of thing is why i love watching the discovery channel.

one person left a comment that really sums up how i feel about it.

WOW. I'm speechless. These things make you appreciate nature so much more... things you're not even aware of, and you see with your own eyes... we're so conceited, we think we're the only creatures who can make things shapeshift, with all of our technology... we've got nothing on mother earth. Nothing at all.

this stays in my head for weeks at a time

2008-02-01T19:40:31Z

anything plain can be lovely, anything loved can be lost
maybe i lost my direction, what if our love is the cost?
anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost
anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost
what if i lost my direction? what if i lost sense of time?
what if i nursed this infection? maybe the worst is behind

- barenaked ladies, falling for the first time

je ne comprends pas

2008-01-10T01:14:09Z

i don't understand

pyramids

2007-12-28T03:41:23Z

i had forgotten the simple pleasure i get from immersing myself in a book.
from reading, straight through, until i am done. no stopping - read through dinner, put everything else off. through the night if need be, until i've no choice and just drop.

just continuing entirely until i have completed the story.
i love losing myself in another world for as long as i possibly can.
i love finding that obsession, the need to continue.

SNOW!

2007-11-08T17:10:01Z

okay, this is wonderful, i am very very excited.
it is snowing! not rain that sort of looks like snow, not the occaisonal spot of white floating from the sky.
this is lots and lots of fluffy white falling down. it is cold and wet and glorious.
and i get to walk dogs in it!

ahh it is so beautiful. i love the first snow.

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

2007-11-01T23:43:10Z

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

- Edgar Allan Poe

for you.

2007-10-24T01:20:20Z

why must this be such a difficult time for everyone?
i feel so sick inside, thinking of it all.
all i want is to go back to our pictures - to where we are laughing, swinging, swimming, smiling.
i want to take away your problems, i don't want you to hurt, to be confused, to be sad or lonely.

your problems are mine. i will feel the ache as long as you do. you are never alone - even if only in our minds, i will hold you, listen to you, talk to you, cry with you, get up and go with you.

remember all of the reasons you have to be happy, to be alive, to be joyful and free. remember all of the moments when you were, remember all of the things anyone has said to you that has helped you to be strong, to guide you, to cheer you up. be down while you have to, but don't stay there. don't forget about the excitement, the happiness, and the hope.

remember that i will do anything for you, to make things right.

my imaginary world.

2007-10-15T00:00:12Z

lately i've discovered a bit of a fascination with fantasy creatures.
vampires & mermaids, mostly, though all sorts of monsters and creatures are becoming more interesting.

it's all so enchanting, like an evil beauty. alluring and captivating.
i think i would like to get more into mythology and.. folklore, i suppose?
not necessarily the gods and godesses, though those also fascinate me - but more the supposed creatures of old days.
nymphs, sirens; all of those things so devastatingly lovely.
there is a sort of passion to them that you don't see in a modern world like today.

though i find it is also the drawings, depictions of these fantastical beings, that sends my mind spinning with amazement.
some of them are simply so brilliant, so perfectly what i imagine they should be. full of beauty, yet horrifying. ugly, writhing things that still manage to enchant.

leave us in a cloud of dust and desire.

2007-09-05T05:12:33Z

just finished watching a love song for bobby long. there are few movies that make me feel as this one did.
needless to say i am impressed and very much enjoyed that. i think i should like to watch that movie again.

this is a passage from the end of the movie, which caught my eye: (my ear? my mind.)

Some people reach a place in time where they've gone as far as they can. A place where wives and jobs collide with desire. That which is unknowable and those who remain out of sight. See what is invisible and you will see what to write. That's how Bobby used to put it. It was the invisible people he wanted to live with. The ones that we walk past everday, the ones we sometimes become. The ones in books who live only in someones mind's eye. He was a man who was destined to go through life and not around it. A man who was sure the shortest path to Heaven was straight through Hell. But the truth of his handicap lay only in a mind both exalted and crippled by too many stories and the path he chose to become one. Bobby Long's tragic flaw was his romance with all that he saw. And I guess if people want to believe in some form of justice, then Bobby Long got his for a song.

pushing rocks uphill.

2007-08-25T03:37:36Z

sorry for the multiple posts - but i saw this and felt it was simply amazing.
i think the off grammar is what makes it. i don't know whether to laugh or feel sad.

- this is from

ljsecret

remember.

2007-08-22T04:05:00Z

the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard wrote,
"there is nothing worse in life than to begin to think of your own emotions as drivel."