Monday, August 8, 2011

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Monday, July 18, 2011

                    fall into the gap.....    
shut up......

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

summer viewing....
Eric Rohmer's 'Six Moral Tales' 
image via the fox is black

Thursday, June 9, 2011

bestie. stylist. designer. photographer. 

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

i'm 26...and ready to act my age: less candy, double eye roll to liz's bieber obsession

Monday, February 14, 2011

John William Waterhouse: Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus - 1905

i have an assignment to write an anti-love poem...easy...or is it? by way of example, we were given these shiny gems and I cannot help but share, although I don't feel particularly mad at the world for installing a holiday like this one. i feel they represent the torn angst/confused displaced passion of the everyday just as plainly as they do "anti-love": 

Why Can't I Leave You?
by Ai

You stand behind the old black mare,
dressed as always in that red shirt,
stained from sweat, the crying of the armpits,
that will not stop for anything,
stroking her rump, while the barley goes unplanted.
I pick up my suitcase and set it down,
as I try to leave you again.
I smooth the hair back from your forehead.
I think with your laziness and the drought too,
you’ll be needing my help more than ever.
You take my hands, I nod
and go to the house to unpack,
having found another reason to stay.

I undress, then put on my white lace slip
for you to take off, because you like that
and when you come in, you pull down the straps
and I unbutton your shirt.
I know we can’t give each other any more
or any less than what we have.
There is a safety in that, so much
that I can never get past the packing,
the begging you to please, if I can’t make you happy,
come close between my thighs
and let me laugh for you from my second mouth.

Danse Russe
by William Carlos Williams

If when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,-
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself:
"I am lonely, lonely,
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!"
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
against the yellow drawn shades,-

Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?

A Dog After Love 
by Yehuda Amichai

After you left me
I had a bloodhound sniff at
my chest and my belly. Let it fill its nostrils
and set out to find you.

I hope it will find you and rip
your lover's balls to shreds and bite off his cock--
or at least
bring me one of your stockings between its teeth. 


by Ted Hughes

He loved her and she loved him
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her
Safe and sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Off that moments brink and into nothing
Or everlasting or whatever there was
Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fair palace
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His words were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assassin's attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
Her glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap

His promises were the surgeon's gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
Her vows put his eyes in formalin
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall

Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other's face

*respectfully copied and pasted from:;

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Inspired by Kafka's short story "Investigations of a Dog"

Sunday, January 30, 2011

"I need solitude for my writing; not 'like a hermit' - that wouldn't be enough - but like a dead man." 
                                                                - Franz Kafka

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

dear shark speed:

thanks for providing the repetitious beat from band practice, no doubt, that creeps into our house every time....that helped me zonk for 35 min. in the tub... i've not been sleeping well and 35 min.zzzzzzzzz(s) are good zzzzzzzz(s). i'm sure you were just tryna get it right.....psychedelic peace jam. god bless. 


Thursday, January 6, 2011

this is camilla's attempt at a little spritzer...
to pizza, love cat. thanks for the optimism?

meet alex

he's a cancer.

Monday, January 3, 2011

if you're feeling sinister

There's nothing like going to a New Year's party and running into an ex...that reports a conversation that he's just had with another another ex...
His parting words: "You're out of your fucking mind...but in the best possible way." What does that even mean?
Word. Happy New Year. 

some self-portraits with a weird border that I don't understand. 
i need techy help.