72 “Moisture makes the soul succumb to joy.”- Heraclitus pg. 47
This is juicy and packed with meaning. The first that jumps across my screen is very sexual, but the next is very primitive or basic; water.
115 “Dogs, by this same logic, bark at what they cannot understand.”- Heraclitus pg. 81
This makes me think of politics for some reason. I just imagine Congress or a court room filled with fat politicians arguing about money and equal rights.
104 “Always having what we want may not be the best good fortune. Health seems sweetest after sickness, food in hunger, goodness in the wake of evil, and at the end of daylong labor sleep.” Heraclitus pg. 69
This could really be interpreted as a reflection on American society today. Today we are a wasteful and ungrateful community. We only appreciate or love the basic elements of our day when we have to go without them.
“what is very dangerous about people:
they want you to be the same person that they met
that they assume they know
when you are constantly becoming yourself, that is to say, being who you really are,
they become uneasy
they have nothing to hold on to
for this reason people make disappointing friends”
Aryan Kaganof- A Paradox About People
“if one bothers to do that at all - it consumes one
and then one day you wake up and you have become one of the yobs that you always thought you were merely humouring”
Aryan Kaganof- On Fittin In
“those who say that life begins at 40
are lying”
Aryan Kaganof- On life beginning at 40
“sticks and stones might break your bones
but words can fucking kill you”
Narike Lintvelt
Watching Avatar, I had an epiphany. ‘I see you’ struck me as the most profound and honest declaration of love I had ever heard (or seen). I. See. You. Not what you look like. Not what you do for me. Not what I can get from you. Not how I imagine you. Just you. Who you are. All of you. Now and ever.
Ah, dreams…
Narike Lintvelt
We leave one morning, brains full of flame,
Hearts full of malice and bitter desires,
And we go and follow the rhythm of the waves,
Rocking our infinite on the finite of the seas:
Some happy to escape a tainted country
Others, the horrors of their candles; and a few,
Astrologers drowned in the eys of a woman,
Some tyrannical Circe of dangerous perfumes.
-The Journey by Charles Baudelaire
who did you become?
that’s not anybody
i know wearing
your clothes
wearing
your
eyes
who did
you become?
who’s that wearing
your hair? wearing your
smile? who’s that trying so
hard not to wear your tears
Sasha Grey- On seeing a photograph of someone I once thought I knew
Monday, April 19, 2010
Poem Box (click image to see full size)
This is my poem box! I had to make it twice because my room mate threw it away the first time :( I made it out of a Coach shoe box because of the red interior. I used sugar, feathers, and REAL hair (thank goodness for friends who like hair extensions)!. Here is the poem I based the box on:
Indian Princess
She is beneath the surface.
Weeping, head in hands, harsh moans.
Silk face and a feather tipped crown.
Whipping her face with the wind, watering her lips with the rain, he tore her in two.
Tearing into scarred flesh, gently ravaging her frame.
He was breathless, bloody and partial to her.
He bent her into whatever he liked, curving his thin lips into a sharp smirk.
He gripped her long hair and scorned its softness.
His love was pungent.
He let her sleep, covering her eyes with petals.
And when she woke, her native feet were dirty pennies dancing on white sand.
She ran tenderly into morning, pellets of mist tickled her face.
Death, in silent sweet disposition.
More Verbal Photographs
The sun was hazy through dirty old windows. Pitiful plastic blinds made shadows on the old gray tables. How much longer do I have to be in here?
Asian eyes smiled at me across an old wooden desk. She smelled like hemp and mandarin orange tea with a hint of cinnamon and yesterday.
Red lips, cherry-berry current to be exact in the shape of a kiss. Pooched out and poking at me.
He ran his dirty finger along the bridge of his slender pinkish peach nose.
He smiled; the bushy hairs in his muddy brown mustache hid his swollen pink lips. They were swollen from the passionate kiss his boyfriend laid on him, the kiss that he thought no one noticed, but I noticed.
Green plastic earrings dangling from pink ears. They slap her face when she turns her head too quickly, almost as if they are telling her to be still.
He zipped his oversized hoodie around both them, and held her. He was standing there looking like a dark brown mama kangaroo holding his mismatched baby.
They bounce across the wide street in neon purple, pink, and green outfits. It is funny to see them try and chat through short breaths and long strides.
He was shimmery, running in the sun. A white tank top folded and tucked neatly in the waist band of his bright blue shorts.
There was glitter on his arms like he’d just hugged a bucket of sparkles. He picked at one spec until he pinched his skin, he flinched and looked around. No one saw…but me.
Asian eyes smiled at me across an old wooden desk. She smelled like hemp and mandarin orange tea with a hint of cinnamon and yesterday.
Red lips, cherry-berry current to be exact in the shape of a kiss. Pooched out and poking at me.
He ran his dirty finger along the bridge of his slender pinkish peach nose.
He smiled; the bushy hairs in his muddy brown mustache hid his swollen pink lips. They were swollen from the passionate kiss his boyfriend laid on him, the kiss that he thought no one noticed, but I noticed.
Green plastic earrings dangling from pink ears. They slap her face when she turns her head too quickly, almost as if they are telling her to be still.
He zipped his oversized hoodie around both them, and held her. He was standing there looking like a dark brown mama kangaroo holding his mismatched baby.
They bounce across the wide street in neon purple, pink, and green outfits. It is funny to see them try and chat through short breaths and long strides.
He was shimmery, running in the sun. A white tank top folded and tucked neatly in the waist band of his bright blue shorts.
There was glitter on his arms like he’d just hugged a bucket of sparkles. He picked at one spec until he pinched his skin, he flinched and looked around. No one saw…but me.
Photobiography in 4 Parts
These are all projects from the Dove Learning to Love You More website! You should try some!
#52.
Me: Hi Mom!
Mom: Hey Ash! What’s up?
Me: I have something to tell you.
Mom: Ok what’s up?
Me: I hate that you drink so much. The way you act when you drink really makes me feel uncomfortable.
Mom: What do you mean?
Me: You say things that hurt my feelings sometimes. You act really crazy when you are drunk. You stumble around, and sometimes you cry, and you react really harshly to things people say. I really hate when I come home to visit for the weekend and you drag Daddy out to all of those bars. I know he hates it, and I know that’s not where he really needs to be after his stroke. I have the feeling he only goes with you to watch out for you. You drink more than me, and I’m a college student.
Mom: I didn’t know you felt that way…
Me: I love you a lot, I’m just worried. You drive drunk and you leave candles burning in the house and you act out. I just want you to be safe.
Mom: I really never meant to hurt you.
Me: I know you didn’t. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.
# 70.
Goodbye loving those who don’t love me the way I need to be loved.
Goodbye lying about how I really feel.
Goodbye being too shy to speak up.
Goodbye procrastination.
Goodbye sitting in the back and hoping I’m not noticed.
Goodbye eating out of boredom.
Goodbye not asking for help when I feel overwhelmed and really need it.
Goodbye thinking I’m not good enough for people who really aren’t good enough for me.
Goodbye wishing my life away.
Goodbye hoping things will happen instead of putting forth an effort to making them happen.
Goodbye Terrance.
Goodbye Jennifer.
Goodbye wishing I looked like everyone else.
#55.
This is what I was wearing on my 23rd birthday. There were times when I didn’t think I would make it to 23. I took my shoes off and danced in the street.
The Golden Shadow
I’m sure of myself. I walk with my head held high; I strut. I’m never nervous of what people will think of me. I know just what to say; I say what I feel. I don't sit in any corners, and I never hope that no one notices me. I'm proud of myself and all of my choices. I have imperfections and I own them, never dwell on them. I'm near myself and far from wishing I was you.
#52.
Me: Hi Mom!
Mom: Hey Ash! What’s up?
Me: I have something to tell you.
Mom: Ok what’s up?
Me: I hate that you drink so much. The way you act when you drink really makes me feel uncomfortable.
Mom: What do you mean?
Me: You say things that hurt my feelings sometimes. You act really crazy when you are drunk. You stumble around, and sometimes you cry, and you react really harshly to things people say. I really hate when I come home to visit for the weekend and you drag Daddy out to all of those bars. I know he hates it, and I know that’s not where he really needs to be after his stroke. I have the feeling he only goes with you to watch out for you. You drink more than me, and I’m a college student.
Mom: I didn’t know you felt that way…
Me: I love you a lot, I’m just worried. You drive drunk and you leave candles burning in the house and you act out. I just want you to be safe.
Mom: I really never meant to hurt you.
Me: I know you didn’t. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.
# 70.
Goodbye loving those who don’t love me the way I need to be loved.
Goodbye lying about how I really feel.
Goodbye being too shy to speak up.
Goodbye procrastination.
Goodbye sitting in the back and hoping I’m not noticed.
Goodbye eating out of boredom.
Goodbye not asking for help when I feel overwhelmed and really need it.
Goodbye thinking I’m not good enough for people who really aren’t good enough for me.
Goodbye wishing my life away.
Goodbye hoping things will happen instead of putting forth an effort to making them happen.
Goodbye Terrance.
Goodbye Jennifer.
Goodbye wishing I looked like everyone else.
#55.
This is what I was wearing on my 23rd birthday. There were times when I didn’t think I would make it to 23. I took my shoes off and danced in the street.
The Golden Shadow
I’m sure of myself. I walk with my head held high; I strut. I’m never nervous of what people will think of me. I know just what to say; I say what I feel. I don't sit in any corners, and I never hope that no one notices me. I'm proud of myself and all of my choices. I have imperfections and I own them, never dwell on them. I'm near myself and far from wishing I was you.
Verbal Photographs
She tapped the fresh pink eraser of her yellowish pencil against the worn desk. Tapping mindlessly; manic.
His steps were heavy, dragging his bright red sneakers across dirty beige linoleum. The sounds of early morning classes and coffee filled the hallway around him.
He hung his head and tilted it sideways, staring into the televisions soft glow. Quizzical yet arrogant, he argued with the news anchor.
His light brown body was speckled with dark marks. They made him look dirty and old. But he still walked around shirtless like I was supposed to be attracted.
She sipped thick chocolate milk through a thin straw, running her tongue across her teeth after each sip.
He spoke incessantly, every word made my skin crawl. Thoughts of duct taping his mouth shut washed over me as continued.
His steps were heavy, dragging his bright red sneakers across dirty beige linoleum. The sounds of early morning classes and coffee filled the hallway around him.
He hung his head and tilted it sideways, staring into the televisions soft glow. Quizzical yet arrogant, he argued with the news anchor.
His light brown body was speckled with dark marks. They made him look dirty and old. But he still walked around shirtless like I was supposed to be attracted.
She sipped thick chocolate milk through a thin straw, running her tongue across her teeth after each sip.
He spoke incessantly, every word made my skin crawl. Thoughts of duct taping his mouth shut washed over me as continued.
Place Narrative: The Belle Isle Playscape Detroit, MI
When I was younger I spent every weekend I could at my grandparent’s house in Detroit. I had fun getting away and playing with the neighborhood kids. I especially loved visiting with my cousins and doing things that I couldn’t do back at home in Saginaw. I remember when my grandfather used to take my cousins and me to Belle Isle Park in downtown Detroit. Belle Isle was like an entirely different planet; right on the edge of downtown Detroit there was (still is) this huge park surrounded by water. Back in the day there was a casino, a yacht club, a nature walk and zoo, super slide pavilions where people had family reunions and picnics even a museum on the island. All of those things were wonderful but I was really interested in the giant wooden playscape.
On the way to Belle Isle my grandfather would stop at a liquor store and give my cousin and I two dollars each to get some snacks and candy; he’d grab a tall can of Miller High Life. Everything was fantastic on those rides to Belle Isle. The sun would shine through the windows of my Grandaddy’s old Mercury Dynasty. We would ride down Woodward and then onto Jefferson Ave., passing through the shadows of skyscrapers that were full of business people back then. The sounds of smooth jazz v98.7 drifting from the radio, I was usually devouring a watermelon Big Slice lollipop and my cousin munching on Better Made chips; we’d share a bottle of peach Faygo. My grandfather would pull into the diagonal parking spots across in front of the playscape and say, “Alright, go have fun but when the sun starts to go down come and find me.” Then he’d walk down to one of the fishing docks and set up a lawn chair and sip his beer while looking across the Detroit River at Canada.
The playscape was like a wooden paradise for kids; there were all sorts of bridges, tunnels, places to hide and things to climb. It was the early 90’s and kids could play in peace without worrying about people shooting up the play ground or starting too much trouble. That playscape was anything we wanted it to be back then. Most times, we imagined that it was a castle and there was some foreign country trying to take over our kingdom. We ran full speed for hours, laughing and giggling, enjoying the sun on our bare brown arms and kicking up dirt and sand.
A few years ago, someone decided to tear down the wooden playscape and replace it with one of those cookie cutter plastic/rubber red, green, yellow, and blue things. None of the things that made Belle Isle a fun and family friendly place to be are still there. The Super slide stands in an abandoned corner of the park looking like a rusted dinosaur. The new plastic jungle gym is spray painted and unsightly. Kids still play here, but their parents watch them closely and never let them run too far. Belle Isle isn’t a safe place anymore. The police patrol it heavily on the weekends, especially when it is sunny outside. You don’t see families there anymore. No grandfathers on the fishing docks. People come to Belle Isle to ride in circles around the island showing off their cars, playing loud music and hanging out the windows. Over-sexed teens parade themselves around, drinking and smoking.
People have changed the wooden playscape that made such unique and interesting memories for lots of kids in Detroit into a manufactured playground. Empty or broken liquor bottles and torn condom rappers are mixed in with the dirty sand that I once sat and played in. There are stories on the news about young girls getting raped and fights breaking out on the basketball court the end up in shoot outs. I’ll admit I’ve been one of those over-sexed teens riding around blasting the latest rap song, drinking and laughing with my friends riding around Belle Isle like it doesn’t have any history. I miss the days where I could walk around with colorful barrettes in my hair and pretend I wasn’t right outside of downtown Detroit.
On the way to Belle Isle my grandfather would stop at a liquor store and give my cousin and I two dollars each to get some snacks and candy; he’d grab a tall can of Miller High Life. Everything was fantastic on those rides to Belle Isle. The sun would shine through the windows of my Grandaddy’s old Mercury Dynasty. We would ride down Woodward and then onto Jefferson Ave., passing through the shadows of skyscrapers that were full of business people back then. The sounds of smooth jazz v98.7 drifting from the radio, I was usually devouring a watermelon Big Slice lollipop and my cousin munching on Better Made chips; we’d share a bottle of peach Faygo. My grandfather would pull into the diagonal parking spots across in front of the playscape and say, “Alright, go have fun but when the sun starts to go down come and find me.” Then he’d walk down to one of the fishing docks and set up a lawn chair and sip his beer while looking across the Detroit River at Canada.
The playscape was like a wooden paradise for kids; there were all sorts of bridges, tunnels, places to hide and things to climb. It was the early 90’s and kids could play in peace without worrying about people shooting up the play ground or starting too much trouble. That playscape was anything we wanted it to be back then. Most times, we imagined that it was a castle and there was some foreign country trying to take over our kingdom. We ran full speed for hours, laughing and giggling, enjoying the sun on our bare brown arms and kicking up dirt and sand.
A few years ago, someone decided to tear down the wooden playscape and replace it with one of those cookie cutter plastic/rubber red, green, yellow, and blue things. None of the things that made Belle Isle a fun and family friendly place to be are still there. The Super slide stands in an abandoned corner of the park looking like a rusted dinosaur. The new plastic jungle gym is spray painted and unsightly. Kids still play here, but their parents watch them closely and never let them run too far. Belle Isle isn’t a safe place anymore. The police patrol it heavily on the weekends, especially when it is sunny outside. You don’t see families there anymore. No grandfathers on the fishing docks. People come to Belle Isle to ride in circles around the island showing off their cars, playing loud music and hanging out the windows. Over-sexed teens parade themselves around, drinking and smoking.
People have changed the wooden playscape that made such unique and interesting memories for lots of kids in Detroit into a manufactured playground. Empty or broken liquor bottles and torn condom rappers are mixed in with the dirty sand that I once sat and played in. There are stories on the news about young girls getting raped and fights breaking out on the basketball court the end up in shoot outs. I’ll admit I’ve been one of those over-sexed teens riding around blasting the latest rap song, drinking and laughing with my friends riding around Belle Isle like it doesn’t have any history. I miss the days where I could walk around with colorful barrettes in my hair and pretend I wasn’t right outside of downtown Detroit.
Sappho Collaboration!
he seems to me equal to gods that man
Something so significant
whoever he is who opposite you
Breathing slowly
sits and listens close
Anticipation boils over in each breath
and lovely laughing—oh it
Eases my heart into sleep
puts the heart in my chest on wings
And sends her away
For when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking
Hushes me into a dense nothing
is left in me
no: Tongue breaks and thin
Soft Kisses
fire is racing under skin
Where everything hides in fear
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears.
Something so significant
whoever he is who opposite you
Breathing slowly
sits and listens close
Anticipation boils over in each breath
and lovely laughing—oh it
Eases my heart into sleep
puts the heart in my chest on wings
And sends her away
For when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking
Hushes me into a dense nothing
is left in me
no: Tongue breaks and thin
Soft Kisses
fire is racing under skin
Where everything hides in fear
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears.
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