Blue Banana @blue--banana - Tumblr Blog

“It is quite unbelievable that there will be people that I will love unconditionally that I have not met yet. Somewhere out there, in a supermarket or singing in the shower, there are souls that have not touched mine yet but will, eventually.”

— J.D.M. // The Skies We’re Under

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Daybreak. 26° F. 6:21, 6:38, 6:58 am. December 5, 2022. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. (@dkct25)

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Photo by https://www.tumblr.com/cycles-seasons/701649055847268352

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1/1000 by Tim Marshall

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Fortesa Latifi, from The Truth About Grief.

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“The daily routine of most adults is so heavy and artificial that we are closed off to much of the world. We have to do this in order to get our work done. I think one purpose of art is to get us out of those routines. When we hear music or poetry or stories, the world opens up again. We’re drawn in — or out — and the windows of our perception are cleansed.”

— Ursula K. Le Guin, Talking on the Water: Conversations about Nature and Creativity (Trinity University Press, October 11, 2016) (via Alive on All Channels)

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everyone writes poems about august. i keep thinking it's july. i feel restless, unhinged. i am not where i belong, recently, no matter where i am. i have this sense - get up, go! but no sense of where i'm supposed to be going. i feel uncomfortable with my own skin, rabbiting between the frenzied pleasure of summer wind and the cold air blowing in.

i think im very likely going to be a very lonely person for my entire life; or at least until i can learn to stop obsessing on the past and constructing intricate impossible futures. i hate the present tense, but i always regret not-living-in-it. i feel like i wasted these months, even after everything i have done during them. i wonder when time will feel less like a thing that can be wasted - when it is just something i experience, not something i can buy or promise.

i think i am very likely always going to hold too much superstition. i think i am going to be overly nostalgic no matter the circumstance. i have been called a romantic, but i don't feel like one - more like a helpless optimist. i keep thinking about fall apples and pumpkins and something kind of sorrowful fills my stomach - i'm not ready, not yet. i haven't been here long enough, is all. i'm not really sure what here is.

this borrowed month. this month, an open mouth, a longing. the leaves are already turning where i live. this summer pressing kisses in a starfish on my ribs - you tried, she says. i tell her - whatever it was - i feel unfinished.

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From Leonard Cohen’s final letter to his dying muse, Marianne Ihlen. She died in July 2016, and Cohen followed her shortly after, dying in November 2016.

“Well Marianne it’s come to this time when we are really so old and our bodies are falling apart and I think I will follow you very soon. Know that I am so close behind you that if you stretch out your hand, I think you can reach mine. And you know that I’ve always loved you for your beauty and your wisdom, but I don’t need to say anything more about that because you know all about that. But now, I just want to wish you a very good journey. Goodbye old friend. Endless love, see you down the road.”

— Leonard Cohen