Did I help when I was kissing you?
got a new sweatshirt

got a new sweatshirt

i think about what cristina says to meredith in the season finale of grey’s anatomy very frequently. “don’t let what he wants eclipse what you need. he’s very dreamy but he’s not the sun. you are” it’s very important. everyone remember this. you’re the sun.

"For Keats’ sake, let’s just admit
it’s easeful life we’re half in love
with, and most of us much more
than half—armchair by the fire,
book and a cup of tea within reach.
Finishing a meal, we know
where the next is coming from.
We wake and sleep in comfort,
no music fled from us for long.
We write odes to our contentment
or, to amuse our friends,
La Belle Dame Sans Chemise.
Closets and cupboards full, we live
beneath snug roofs, untroubled
by weather and certain
there’s medicine in the cabinet
for the cough that one of us
has picked up in the last few days."

— James Scruton, “Ease”

Anne Parker

Anne Parker

i hang out this guy occasionally when I’m drunk and he only likes me because i hardly let him kiss me and i only like him because he says I’m pretty and tries to kiss me. so it’s a win-win situation

"It is when death is rendered graphically, is televised so to speak, that you sense an eerie separation between your condition and yourself. A network of symbols has been introduced, an entire awesome technology wrested from the gods. It makes you feel like a stranger in your own dying."

— Don DeLillo, White Noise

Antoine Bruy

Antoine Bruy

"Pale and naked without their bodies, the souls
examine the book
in which they hope to find
their names inscribed.

Made of soap. Now. Made
of smoke. Now
made of dew
and hairlessness. And how

primitive, I realize, seeing them, it’s been:
The body. Its

silly limbs transporting, through the world, our
windblownness. Our
cloud wherever it went.

Teeth, old-fashioned and enameled, so
easily chipped.
The nose, often
runny, sometimes broken.
Heavy eyelids. Ankle twisted. How

did we bear it as it bore us, all
stuttering and limping, clomping, hungry,
shaggy, horny, and diseased. All

that meat—grossly, morosely—weighted
around a soul:

A simple soul!
Exhausting coat!
Skipping along like hope."

— Laura Kasischke, “The Book of Life”

Hannah Ukura

Hannah Ukura

"Some days are windblown sand stinging
my eyes; others, rice grains in a glass jar."

— Arthur Sze, from “The Radius of Touch”