"Ted Tice already understood his attachment to Caro as intensification of his strongest qualities, if not of his strengths: not a youthful adventure, fresh and tentative, but a gauge of all effort, joy, and suffering known or imagined. The possibility that he might never, in a lifetime, arouse her love in return was a discovery touching all existence. In his desire and foreboding, he was like a man awake who watches a woman sleeping."
cold today, the mud freeze-dry and deep veins of ice along the supersaturated ground. the sun is strong but the wind makes for hardbreathing. red branches of some prolific wasteland shrubbery are a comfort of bloodcolor in the overwhelming dun. tight buds burst out into slow tipped antennae flowers while the crocus fall back into their bulbs until their light cue comes again.
ten for today:
1. "exquisite humiliations"
2. "You are disturbing me. I am picking mushrooms."
3. "too many OBGYNs arent able to practice their love with women all across this country."
4. "I'm not anything that you think I am anyway...I'm full of dust and guitars."
5. "Do you think Leslie West is better than me?"
6. "uncertain, deductive, entirely personal"
(and this one)
7. "When Paul Ivory walked in espadrilles on the paths and passages of Peverel, the sound inaugurated, softly, the modern era."
8. "Today is the right time separate from your beloved temporary."
ok. so now that everyones getting the cure, maybe ill chance an airing of the lost tsarina. ready to retreat at a moments notice, but fingers wiggling in the freshness, the suchness of what seems like the first stage of an authentic rebirth. or not. whos to say. id like to thank Dispatch, dogs, stars, literacy and Mahavishnu Orchestra, along with the hope for an unbound heart, and horses.
"I've heard it said that within our deathly culture, the most revolutionary thing anyone can do is follow one's heart. I would add that once you've begun to do that–to follow your own heart–the most moral and revolutionary thing you can do is help others find their hearts, to find themselves. It's much easier than it seems."
how i feel today, a gem:
Asking for Roses
With doors that none but the wind ever closes,
Its floor all littered with glass and with plaster;
It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses.
I pass by that way in the gloaming with Mary;
'I wonder,' I say, 'who the owner of those is.'
'Oh, no one you know,' she answers me airy,
'But one we must ask if we want any roses.'
So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly
There in the hush of the wood that reposes,
And turn and go up to the open door boldly,
And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.
'Pray, are you within there, Mistress Who-were-you?'
'Tis Mary that speaks and our errand discloses.
'Pray, are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!
'Tis summer again; there's two come for roses.
'A word with you, that of the singer recalling--
Old Herrick: a saying that every maid knows is
A flower unplucked is but left to the falling,
And nothing is gained by not gathering roses.'
We do not loosen our hands' intertwining
(Not caring so very much what she supposes),
There when she comes on us mistily shining
And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.