constellation chandelierspotted on AT
the world is beautiful, bright, overwhelming.
a million ideas clamor for attention in my head.
there are new books open all around me, pages fluttering.
new music, new faces, new work.
and underneath it all, the sound of high heels on the floor . . .
a staccato that will never cease to empower me.
a poem by Walt Whitman (of all people)(thank you, mme.) serves as inspiration to the phase of this strange life i am in. i'm reeling out silk, throwing it into the wind, and seeing what it catches on. there is art in casting about, at least this kind, at least this time. the stars are bright in the inky darkness. new constellations are perforated on the night sky of my heart.
it is so funny, so ironic, to realize that it takes words to say that words cannot say what i really mean. ("it is also funny," he said this week, "that 'monosyllabic' is a five-syllable word.")
i wish there was more i could share, but for now i am in a vacuum and a vortex. objects, people, places disappear and boomerang back at alarming speeds, with surprising silence, at the best and worst times.
indulgences, lately:
lots of iced caramel lattes
jane eyre
knitting with fine, pale turquoise yarn
new handbag
new pants
new hair
remembering
staying out late (very late)
long jersey dresses
cilantro
mythology & cello
lots of iced caramel lattes
jane eyre
knitting with fine, pale turquoise yarn
new handbag
new pants
new hair
remembering
staying out late (very late)
long jersey dresses
cilantro
mythology & cello
ah. there is more to be thankful for,
more to love,
than i thought.
what about you?
peace, friends.
---she.
7 comments:
Here's to poetry, new handbags, syllables, long jersey dresses, love, deep thought, and you She - raise your glass with me!
New hair!
I love how fresh this post is :) I could tell you are feeling good!
oh yay! love from here to there...
sigh.
whitman,
jane eyre,
you're cuppeth overflowing.
oh ladies. each one of you is so special to me in completely unique ways. it's crazy that i've never even met any of you. but i feel like i have. and maybe that's what makes the connection so meaningful --- it is not limited by time, space, or geography.
thank you for you.
i raise my glass with you and to you, shell...
i feel the freshness you see stirring in me anew, sarah...
i appreciate (and need) your ever-brightness, jordan...
and mme., well, you're swimming about in a emerald-green maillot de bain in my cup, fingers over the edge, giving me that mysterious smile of yours.
love.
I miss you. There is a raven shaped hole in my life, but don't worry, I'll keep it well for you, waiting. Be kind to my friend, for she is a rare beauty.
these are some bare old lovely bones.
my ulnas miss your ulnas.
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