“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

[natashaadrastea]

‘I closed my eyes, felt the sunlight on my thighs. To be beheld like that—it felt like glittering.’ ~ Mary Szybist

©Natasha Adrastea

[save-room]

[al-hayyah]

[hay-ati]

I’m almost 43 and watching Tarkovsky’s Mirror, bluray and on big tv, after avoiding for a long while feels very different.

[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  

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.

[hay-ati]

Comments & analysis: We celebrated every moment / Of our meetings as epiphanies,

i wish/want to read this poem to him. had similar feeling about keats the other day, but the tarkovsky—he has no poetry out but loves russian literature…but recently, no time for me.

[historicalbookimages]

🌾 Flowers of the field London, Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1911. Original source Image description: Illustration of two types of thistles from the 1911 “Flowers of the Field.” On the left is the Dwarf Plume-thistle (Carduus acaulis) with spiny, jagged-edged leaves and a large purple flower head with a bulbous, patterned base. On the right is the Marsh Plume-thistle (Carduus palustris), depicted with a tall, slender, spiky stem bearing multiple smaller purple flowers, each with numerous fine petals and prickly bracts. Both plants display characteristic sharp spines along their stems and leaves, emphasizing their distinctive, thorny appearance. The illustration is detailed in soft colors on a pale background with botanical labels below.

[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.