Apr 8, 2017
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"For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God. Bloody Mary, full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me now and at the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen."
– Daniel at some point or other
Lucifer of the Mind
Half-angel without manners, brooding at The turnstile, brushing scurf from your shoulders: The headlines of depression stagger across Your newsprint, flare like match tips at the strike Of your thumb. Here where anxiety Rents the tunnels for the night I see you Fretting with your treasures, tightening the loop This dark station heats, sears: the working hour, The dreaming hour, my hair, lashes, fingertips Are burning. You will burn me down.
This day, from my rooftop, I saw you crest, Red temper set to cooling across The grain of the gentle sky I should have Plucked you down from with steady-handed tongs.
—Janet Kaplan
Life is a Dream
A sage once said misfortunes must be cowards Because they never dare walk alone But come in crowds. I say they are most valiant Because they always charge so bravely on And never turn their backs. Who charges with them May dare all things because there is no fear That they'll never desert him; and I say it Because in all my life I never once Knew them to leave me, nor will they grow tired Of me till, wounded and shot through and through By Fate, I fall into the arms of death.
—Pedro Calderón de la Barca
"I had a brother, and, you see, he died when I was young.” Daniel swallows and gestures in the air idly as if that could sweep away a grief-soaked lifetime of painfully awkward silences that stretched like dusk shadows across Daniel’s adolescence.
from Talamascan Case Files: La Llorona
The Way Through The Woods (Rudyard Kipling)
They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know There was once a road through the woods Before they planted the trees. It is underneath the coppice and heath, And the thin anemones. Only the keeper sees That, where the ring-dove broods, And the badgers roll at ease, There was once a road through the woods. Yet, if you enter the woods Of a summer evening late, When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools Where the otter whistles his mate. (They fear not men in the woods, Because they see so few) You will hear the beat of a horse's feet, And the swish of a skirt in the dew, Steadily cantering through The misty solitudes, As though they perfectly knew The old lost road through the woods. . . . But there is no road through the woods.
Dirge in Woods (George Meredith)
A wind sways the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air; Still as the mosses that glow On the flooring and over the lines Of the roots here and there. The pine-tree drops its dead; They are quiet, as under the sea. Overhead, overhead Rushes life in a race, As the clouds the clouds chase; And we go, And we drop like the fruits of the tree, Even we, Even so.
Rio (MIKA)
Oh, here I go again I wake up every morning to this Groundhog Day Thinking about the list of things that I've done wrong Can't even count, it goes on too long I try to change my ways I feel like I'm the villain in some crappy play The book has long been written But I'd rather be just about anyone else but me I hope you see It doesn't mean I'm not a fighter It's just that I wanna be a little lighter Spent so long fixing things I've done I've got holes in all my pockets Even those holes, they've got pockets Hiding things that'll never see the sun I'm taking off Going to Rio I'm getting lost to find an alter ego It could be Paris or Berlin I don't care what state I'm in Gonna leave it all behind Maybe I'll be myself when I'm somebody else