She and Him,

meditations in an emergency,

Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous
(and how the same names keep recurring on that interminable
list!), but one of these days there'll be nothing left with
which to venture forth.

Why should I share you? Why don't you get rid of someone else
for a change?

I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.

Even trees understand me! Good heavens, I lie under them, too,
don't I? I'm just like a pile of leaves.

- Frank O' Hara (you have read my heart, I lie under stars and they make me feel alive)

turning,

Cheers y'all! Spring is a-coming! the sun's a-shining! the wind's a-breezing! the birds a-chirping! ( try saying this with the most honky-dory accent you can manage while skipping on the way to school. amusing stuff! but then yasmin is easily amused.)

It is 3 degrees now, and I feel like sitting on grass all the time! except it's wet. and muddy. grr

snow dance,

today the snow danced
and I could feel it singing and
it was falling and moving and
they seem to have a rhythm, a beat; left right turn
rise up slowly
and now fall down, rapidly
twist

and there were individual snowflakes
tiptoeing on my windowpane

the wind was happy to help their form, I bet

and there were those two huskies, their coats gleaming in the snow
wagging their tails and shagging their fur
how I would have loved to have danced with them

if it weren't so cold

-------------------------------------------------------------

We're doing William Carlos Williams for English next week. It'd be interesting to see how Dr. Z's explanation of him stands against that hipster McGill lecturer (who I thought was great). I don't see any organization in my English class whatsoever, she's doing post-modernist, then traditional, then modernist, then post WWI... Whaaaa...?

I was listening to Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles earlier, it's amusing how I find the song more beautiful and emotionally fulfilling after going through winter. It made me smile superwide!

Oh sun, how I want you so bad!

beat,

Taken from letters to dead people

i think if by some,

anachronistic way Oscar Wilde, James Dean, John Lennon, Jeff Buckley and Bill had met,

they would have liked each other.

A few days ago, I was checking out Bill's (one of my favourite contemporary writer) page, only to find out he died two weeks ago.

It unsettles me. The man had a pure heart, much like the four aforementioned people above.

When I used to write, I experimented with his writing style: it was very 50s/60s noir, very personal, sort of like how one's mind wanders while staring off into space in a coffee shop. And think about loss. love.life.

Love, mostly.

He seemed to get it.

Just like the four aforementioned did.

My favourite of his: Bad Poetry.

because,

sometimes I feel the world is infinitely small and everything's condensed and I touch everything, I can feel everything, I am a part of something, that I am not just some tiny speck in a universe that stretches billions of light years...

other days (like today) I think whether at night our reflections stare back at us, watching us fall into deep slumber (and dream, what do you know about dreaming?), wishing they were on this side and not the other (where they are);

like the looking glass, only unlike Alice, they can't step through: they can only wish.

some days I don't think about those things, I engross myself in books where the main character goes through a life-changing experience (including stepping through to the other side), and at first it seemed so random but when you get to the end you understand why,

Albert Einstein said "God does not play dice with the Universe."