“Vergangenheitsbewältigung”

“anyone who cannot cope with life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair…but with his other hand he can jot down what he sees among the ruins for he sees different and more things than the others; after all, he is dead in his own lifetime and the real survivor.” —Kafka, Oct 19, 1921

[al-hayyah]

essay idea: adorno’s radio

the sponteneity of the radio,

breaking the window

of my mind forged manacles

(cockatiel radio on college radio

i walk in to put them to bed

and one of my favourite singer’s songs comes on to blow through my finely spun depression)

[al-hayyah]

the ghost in the machine.

[al-hayyah]

[al-hayyah]

i need to write about my paternal grandmother.

in my current psychic n p pp

[al-hayyah]

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist

Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;

Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd

By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;

Make not your rosary of yew-berries,

Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be

Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl

A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;

For shade to shade will come too drowsily,

And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall

Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,

That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,

And hides the green hill in an April shroud;

Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,

Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,

Or on the wealth of globed peonies;

Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,

Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,

And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;

And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips

Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,

Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:

Ay, in the very temple of Delight

Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,

Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue

Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;

His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,

And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

[al-hayyah]

i chase sleep

but only for relief

every romantic mistake i ever made

pursues me

through instagram & memories

only we share

i hate you

but i don/t

yr presentation

of perfect love

disrupts the balance.

i hope she is what you needed

since my pink hair and piercings

did not suffice

[al-hayyah]

blutland demo

my lauren says she cuts to feel pain later

the sweat that burns her open cuts between her breasts…

in the middle of shift…

me…

i cut to feel relief

in that terrible moment of psychic agony

i cut to let the blood out

all i want is to see my blood

and to bring on the sleep

such wounds beg

and the hope when wake up

i will feel better

please lauren just not worse

(the drs all say its about control

but maybe too

its about the body caging me

looking as fucked up as i feel. )

[al-hayyah]

there is nothing to be proud of.

[sictransitgloriamvndi]

Army of Darkness over Montmartre (1885, Oil on canvas) - Cristobal de Antonio

[al-hayyah]

im glad no one told 17 yr old Elizabeth she would never find her soulmate. she would have tried hard to end it then.

[al-hayyah]

on the cusp

on the cusp

of a meteor or a lava floe

flak or a full moon

quicksilver or mercury?

i said i’d make you an amulet

but i need you to heal mine instead

ojo de venado, st. jobs’ tears,

[historicalbookimages]

🦁 Report on the birds of Pennsylvania.. Harrisburg, E.K. Meyers, State Printer, 1888.. Original source Image description: Illustration from an 1888 report depicting three male sparrow species associated with savanna habitats in Pennsylvania. At the top, a Vesper Sparrow stands on a rock, showing brown and white speckled plumage with reddish wing patches. In the middle, a Yellow-winged Sparrow perches on a rock with small red flowers, displaying soft gray and brown feathers. At the bottom, a Field Sparrow rests on soil among green leaves and berries, characterized by warm brown tones and a long tail. Each bird is shown at a fraction of natural size, labeled with numbers and species names in elegant script.

[duxuebing]

Photography by Xuebing Du

Blue peony, rising

[antoniocontent]

ph: toby harvard

[al-hayyah]

what does it feel like to know my attempts at breadmaking for lauren are fuelled by the same desperation i felt when i first made brownies for my father. i wanted his attention. his praise. i wanted him to tell me that i was an integral part of our family and he would always love me and protect me.

but he never said those things. not even close.

[al-hayyah]

“Her finely touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were not widely visible. Her full nature, like that river of which Cyrus broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”

[al-hayyah]

“There are natures in which, if they love us, we are conscious of having a sort of baptism and consecration: they bind us over to rectitude and purity by their pure belief about us; and our sins become that worst kind of sacrilege which tears down the invisible altar of trust. "If you are not good, none is good"-- those little words may give a terrific meaning to responsibility, may hold a vitriolic intensity for remorse.”

BOOK VIII. SUNSET AND SUNRISE.

77. CHAPTER LXXVII. (continued)