using this blog for personal stuff. nothing too private. right now i just want to mention that i saw the lovers by lous malles, 1958 french film. very intense. very.

haven't had a post in a while nor time to look for anything. but an old girlfriend who writes found this and wrote me, a really cool thing in general. so maybe that is a good sign. I publised Annaleigh's poem on my lithium blog and will probably embed them both in my site, chaos meets wittgenstein... which is already a mouthful. two things I don't undestand...

A Clean Evolution by Annaleigh Watts

I have not scrubbed in days
I have not scrubbed in weeks
Presenting a challenge
You only think you can face

Comb my hair for me,
Yes it's true I'm such a mess
But dear, cannot you realize
these are signs of deep distress

A wretched scream
Look, I'm so busy
with these screams
I've no time
for exfoliation

If cleanliness
is next to Godliness
then I am far
so far away
I die every day
to see my face
shine into
the sun.

The Lice-Seekers by Arthur Rimbaud

When, full of red torment, the child's troubled head
entreats the white swarm of shadowy dreams,
two gentle grown-up sisters come up to his bed
with fragile fingers like silver-tipped machines.

Before a casement window they sit the child down,
a window open wide to where the azure air
bathes a tangle of flowers, and upon his tousled crown
their terrible, fine fingers move with magical care.

He listens to the sighing of their apprehensive breath
which smells of the long honeys of the fecund earth,
interrupted now and then by a subtle hiss:
saliva caught on the lip - or desire for a kiss.

He hears their dark eyelashes flicker overhead
in the sweet-smelling silence, and their sovereign fingers, sweet,
electric in his languidness meet
in a crackle: little lice are dead.

And their rises in him the wine of listlessness,
delirium-inducing accordion-sigh.
He feels with the slowness of each careful caress
endlessly surging and ebbing the desire to cry.

The Kafka Project

Some great quotes, from Franz Kafka, and I will also post a translation of Rimbaud's poem. Somewhere.

«Life's splendor forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness, but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there, though, not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right word, by its right name, it will come.» (Diaries)


«Beyond a certain point there is no return. This point has to be reached.»