A tiny clip of my mother playing Beethoven’s...
A little Brian Eno never hurt anyone.
Can't write at all...
This happens to me quite often — for a short while or forever — I lose all ability to write. Not when it comes to work; I suppose, but when it comes to expressing myself. Like the example below, for instance; it represents something remotely like what I want to say, but neither has metric consistency, nor any other valuable attribute that I can imagine: (And I’m only posting...
pixandum asked: I really love your poetry!
I love him for many reasons, but mostly because he saw the real me and didn’t run away.
It used to be that I would walk through life as if I were emotionally undressed, and every tiny slight, every wrong word, every rejection, every failure, every heartbreak would feel like the end of the world. There are still a few things that affect me greatly today. But those are my secrets to keep. As for the rest of it, I just don’t care. I love people and I care for many greatly, but I...
Untitled (The Night)
The night softly beckons and tempts, Precedes and succeeds our descents. In dreams we will find, The lost peace of mind, That covers misdeeds and laments.