The Sheer Beauty Of Being Truly Invested In A Book Is What I Live For. Your Eyes Fervishly Scan The Words

Philip de László - Portrait of Cecile Rankin, 1937 (detail), oil on canvas

“Hence I sit fearless on my goat, My naked charms displaying.”

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, from “Faust I”, published p. 1808.

omg i’m crying i can’t believe i found some valid information on what has been disturbing me for such a long time. i felt like i didn’t belong to the language i speak and.. jeez here it is, i’m not alone

All I can think abt is that one quote that basically just describes that you can’t be your true self in your native language bc there’s too much emotional attachment, but that second languages allow speakers to be truly free with their words

Our Wish for the End, Me, Digital Collage, 2020

Death and the Maiden by Ana Sanchez

A romantic is a person who believes in romanticism, which is like a philosophy on life. 

Romantics love nature, old things like castles and churches, love poetry and beauty, and have a tendency to get carried away by ideas. This can be both bad and good, as most of the original romantics stood up for their beliefs and greatly helped England, but also went to help people in revolutions and got killed. 

They also tend to get randomly depressed, but this is because the weather and colors and beatiful things make them act differently than others.

already well into november but i thought i’d post (with pdfs included of course) some things i read (& loved) in october b/c it was a hard month & these writings held my hand the whole way through 

‘by grand central station i sat down and wept,’ elizabeth smart (!)

‘life and death,’ andrea dworkin 

‘seam,’ tarfia faizullah (!)

‘play it as it lays,’ joan didion 

‘war of the foxes,’ richard siken

‘midwinter day,’ bernadette mayer

‘in the pines,’ alice notley

‘death is not an option,’ suzanne rivecca (!)

‘the dead and the living,’ sharon olds

‘the melancholy of anatomy,’ shelley jackson

‘edinburgh,’ alexander chee

‘the woman destroyed,’ simone de beauvoir (!)

‘monster: poems,’ robin morgan

‘how we became human,’ joy harjo

‘ayiti,’ roxane gay (!) 

‘our andromeda,’ brenda shaughnessy

‘second childhood,’ fanny howe

‘the lady in the looking glass,’ virginia woolf

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush. Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.

*adjusts Victorian shirt* What do you mean? *writes poetry with an expensive fountain pen* Am I really  *drinks Absinthe* too dramatic?! *flings herself on a 19th century chaise lounge* Don’t be ridiculous!

How to Save Your Own Life, Erica Jong