raskolnikov felt sick, but he couldn't say why

falling in love all over again...

... with noah and the whale

"oh and when will our heartbeats fall into line,
and the click-clack of our boot heels beat out the same time?
oh and when will your hand find itself in mine?"

revisiting an old friend

"My task is, by the power of written word, to make you hear, to make you feel – it is, before all, to make you see. That – and no more, and it is everything." 

- Joseph Conrad

a fleeting wish

i want to put on my cowboy boots.
i want to kick up some dirt.
i want to smell the hot, dry dust.
i want the air to be golden and hot.
i have never wanted this before.

"Happiness is not a potato"

On the way home, I imagined making myself a sandwich for dinner. This would be the most magnificent, decadent sandwich ever created. I would use the finest of meats, seasoned and sliced to perfection. They would be juicy and tender and piled on generously. These meats would be balanced with the freshest of vegetables: crisp lettuce, bright red tomatoes, crunchy cucumbers, ripe olives, cool avocado, the perfect ration of onions. To enhance the flavor of my sandwich, these toppings would be accompanied by the most lavish of dressings. My secret dressing, that of which only I have ever tasted, would truly make my sandwich great. And to enclose this splendor, I would select grainy, substantial bread for both structural integrity and added nutrition.

When I arrived home I made my way to the kitchen, drooling over my soon-to-be sandwich. As I looked through my fridge, hoping to find all the necessary ingredients, I discovered that the only sandwich-making material I had was peanut butter and some raspberry jam. I didn't even have any bread. But, a sandwich is a sandwich, so I dug out an english muffin and loaded it up. As I took the first bite, I realized that I wouldn't want that over-the-top sandwich anyway. I didn't like cucumbers or olives, and I always end up picking the tomatoes off half way through. I was happy with my simple sandwich. The world needs a few PB&J's.

yes, i've given in.

i have created a Pintrest account...

The most depressing thing I think I've ever read... thanks Lawrence

     "The more you reach after the fatal flower of happiness, which trembles so blue and lovely in a crevice just beyond your grasp, the more fearfully you become aware of the ghastly and awful gulf of the precipice below you, into which you will inevitably plunge, as into the bottomless pit, if you reach any further. You pluck flower after flower--it is never the flower. The flower itself--its calyx is a horrible gulf, it is the bottomless pit.
     That is the whole history of the search for happiness, whether it be your own or somebody else's that you want to win. It ends, and it always ends, in the ghastly sense of the bottomless nothingness into which you will inevitably fall if you strain any further."

- D.H. Lawrence, The Fox