"Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes,
Nibble their toast and cool their tea with sighs,"
Oh the apathy of the people here,
And yet the tension is expressly clear.
"Or else forget the purpose of the night,
Forget their tea -- forget their apatite."
How far gone it seems are we,
from the past -- from ferocity.
-John Keats and Me
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Monday, November 11, 2013
Elegy
"I do not know how elastic my spirit is."
Mr. Keats, I'm afraid you would be ashamed of this shrewdly blasphemous hipster land we call the modern day.
"There is a tenderness to the heart's affection you know nothing about."
Dear John, there is a tenderness it seems only your heart has captured; only your heart and one other. The only pair on earth that has captured the tenderness you speak of. For is not each person, each pair of people intensely unique? And yet no one is completely unique. And that is what allows us to love, but love uniquely for no love between any two people can be recreated by a different set of beings.
"You are the dew on the morning grass and the burning wheel of the sun." -Billy Collins
There is much that you are, and that you are not, Mr. Keats. You are half of a whole, a puzzle piece, and Litany. But in this case, you are not the bread knife, but you are the plum orchard. You are eaten rosebuds and coughing blood. You are the keystone to someone's life, and when you are removed, the arch of her world disintegrates.
Mr. John Keats, you are the bright star, you are the elegy.
Mr. Keats, I'm afraid you would be ashamed of this shrewdly blasphemous hipster land we call the modern day.
"There is a tenderness to the heart's affection you know nothing about."
Dear John, there is a tenderness it seems only your heart has captured; only your heart and one other. The only pair on earth that has captured the tenderness you speak of. For is not each person, each pair of people intensely unique? And yet no one is completely unique. And that is what allows us to love, but love uniquely for no love between any two people can be recreated by a different set of beings.
"You are the dew on the morning grass and the burning wheel of the sun." -Billy Collins
There is much that you are, and that you are not, Mr. Keats. You are half of a whole, a puzzle piece, and Litany. But in this case, you are not the bread knife, but you are the plum orchard. You are eaten rosebuds and coughing blood. You are the keystone to someone's life, and when you are removed, the arch of her world disintegrates.
Mr. John Keats, you are the bright star, you are the elegy.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Word
90's boy bands
Christmas Music
The Happiness Project that was Procrastinated
unfinished books
unfinished goals
unnatural contentment... apathy
dissatisfaction
Lists..... Listslistslistslistslistslists
dissatisfaction
indifference
validation
no opinions. no opinions.
procrastinator
hard worker
epitome of average
flake Big corn flake
White Blue Yellow
Wrong order
Right order
look back look back
self elision
explanation
no explanation
chair pillow
Isadora Duncan?
no
modern dancer
don't like
caveman
North
I wish
feeling sluggish
beatnik
am I?
don't want
be
is
am
was
were
Freakin' Faulkner
word
Christmas Music
The Happiness Project that was Procrastinated
unfinished books
unfinished goals
unnatural contentment... apathy
dissatisfaction
Lists..... Listslistslistslistslistslists
dissatisfaction
indifference
validation
no opinions. no opinions.
procrastinator
hard worker
epitome of average
flake Big corn flake
White Blue Yellow
Wrong order
Right order
look back look back
self elision
explanation
no explanation
chair pillow
Isadora Duncan?
no
modern dancer
don't like
caveman
North
I wish
feeling sluggish
beatnik
am I?
don't want
be
is
am
was
were
Freakin' Faulkner
word
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