Friday, February 25, 2011

Whenever you tell me you are unhappy

Whenever we feel small in the eyes of the world. Whenever we feel defeated. Whenever happiness seems inaccessible--a fable, a distant something casting a light display on Earth from its place in a faraway galaxy--I think it worthwhile to simplify everything that we know to only that which existed all along. 

That which is natural: the air--on your cheek--breathing through the vaults in your hair; the sky--the way it bleeds color when the sun maneuvers; the sea--because it always is, will always be there to embrace you; the earth with its trees that sprout from the ground, line up their counterparts, and create refuge when you feel naked. 

That which is crafted not by man's hands but by man's capacity to love: the connection between a mother and her child; a child with his father; a sister; a brother; a pet; strangers that close the distance and love. 

Banks and retailers and corporations were not born, they were fashioned. So it only makes sense that happiness, which will exist as long as there is breathing, must come not from inventions but from all that which would still be if human hands sat idle.

To Float

Suspended between a languid sea and sun and sky
Forgetting where you end and the elements begin
Is it not the closest you can get to feeling like air or

image source: Some Required; photo by Tamara Lichtenstein

spring break this awaits

image source: sauletekiais on flickr; amazing

Sunday, February 20, 2011

this is what i meant

when i said i wanted to sleep outside this summer.

I saw this picture and freaked out because it plucks the image straight from my head. I've been in love with the idea of sleeping outdoors ever since my mom sat beside me and told me about the times she reclined on a balcony in the breezy Ukrainian nights. I imagined the summer air enchanting her dreams.

image source: Seifenkönigin on flickr (check out her photostream, it is stunning); found through bldg 25
Now all I need is a balcony.

On a Sunday

On a Sunday in an old fishing village, the sun dipped into the harbor. Strewn here and there and everywhere, burning flecks lit up the water.

I just like this picture.
image source: baby is a sinner

i can feel this

image source: unknown
I feel the drop of the stomach and the rush and the exhilaration and the peace as if that were me. It's crazy to think that your body can relate to a photo if the photographer does it right.

I think this was always my motivation behind writing. I always wish to say something in a way that will make someone just stop to feel. I want that moment of recognition in the reader--the moment when they stumble and then catch themselves--the moment when they forget they are not in motion--the moment that they don't see words but an experience--I strive to enable this interaction. To capture something just right so that words transcend the physical boundaries of their form and surface as pure feeling in another--I think if this were to happen, something so simple would be the greatest accomplishment.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Corona Borealis

of Ariadne, who married a god and became a constellation in the sky

"Ariadne, left all alone, was sadly lamenting her fate, when Bacchus put his arms around her, and brought her his aid. He took the crown from her forehead, and set it as a constellation in the sky, to bring her eternal glory. Up through the thin air it soared and, as it flew, its jewels were changed into shining fires. They settled in position, still keeping the appearance of a crown"
-Metamorphoses VII

spring, don't go


Friday, February 18, 2011


as you walk you see faces. they are warped. you are happy. but today you are away from your support system and your soul is scratchy. you make a phone call and words like medicine smooth the raw edges. seawater dissolving the sandpaper shell of your soul

you plunge into beautiful sound waves. the beating in your head mingles with the beating of your heart and the beat takes the worry away

Thursday, February 17, 2011


"Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean."

-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"

Saturday, February 12, 2011

internal monologues at tea time

Why is it that when you are outside with cold clogging your lungs the air is flat and unperfumed, but soon as you are trapped indoors, the faintest invading breeze is so evocative.

In the instant before the garage door closed, I caught a puff of air. Writhing in my nostrils, it smelled like sledding.

False advertising.

And I need to stop thinking in blog posts. It's giving the life imitating art theory an unfair advantage.


when there is
black magic in my fingertips
i type


it isn't real
it brain washes
it sucks you in and makes
it impossible to see anything else
it parades under a mask of beauty and reaps damage
it turns generations of bright eyes into shadows
    thank you for getting me out before
it got me
    but i still wonder sometimes
    how different life would be

хочеться чтобы перед глазами было белое море


tea-stung lips

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Like a Broken Record

On the train or in the car, I am constantly seized by a desire to look down on my lap and see naked thigh. Because what good is a faint breeze if it's your pants that feel it.
Once I was a kid and the air from the rolled down windows swished around my unclad calves. It stuck.

Apollo and Daphne

In mythology, Cupid shoots Apollo with a gold arrow that makes him fall in love with Daphne; in turn, she is shot with one of lead. Hatred for him grows in her heart, but Apollo pursues the beauty regardless. When she feels him gaining on her in a chase, Daphne cries for her father to change her form, thinking her beauty is what got her into this situation.

"Scarcely had she spoken, when a stiffness seized all her limbs;
her bosom began to be enclosed in a tender bark; her hair became
leaves; her arms became branches; her feet stuck fast in the
ground, as roots; her face became a tree-top, retaining nothing
of its former self but its beauty."
Quote Source

image sources: left, right

No idea why I find the idea of this girl changing into a tree so lustrous. But I do. There is a whimsical quality to the image that I would really like to recreate. Daphne and Apollo, I will resurrect you.


Chess pieces in the walls. Between the pillars, sea horses.
I miss rapid foot movement. I need open fields.
And an anchor because I am drifting.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

A Good Song

a. transcends lyrics and beats and chord progressions
b. is when you want to crawl inside the words and breathe in the melody because listening is not enough

How Soon Is Now?

Screencaps from Free People's February 2011 video.

лето, я тебя люблю

Hats Away

Today I was bullied. Cold covered my eyes with a blindfold. Wind followed suit. It plucked my hat right off my head and sent it on its way. I could see the black form receding into the darkness of the parking lot, brim slightly upturned like a wink. Embittered, I walked forward, blinked away the cold, and looked down.

Resting on the cold pavement--waiting for me--was my fedora.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

I wish i could remember that third thing

A man sat down next to me on the train today and the smell of cabbage, this little gold perfume vial that belonged to my grandmother or my sister or somebody, and another thing I can't remember, overwhelmed me. I didn't understand how the odor could bring to mind all things that I like and still be so unpleasant.


By Carrie Yotter for Free People.
The dream.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Out of Sight

It's funny how we think that things stop being just because we don't make them a part of our day to day existence.

The other day I drove with my dad down a neighborhood street adjacent to a playground. I bolted down this street in a coat and hat and scarf the first day that I committed to running and it was cold but I got home and took a shower and felt like air.

There was the soccer field where I rode my bicycle with my eyes on the sky, imagining I was playing Quidditch. The field my dad and I crossed when Rambo was a puppy and Pink Floyd was ringing in my ears.

I must have looked at those chocolate rooftops a million times before yet I rode down the street that has been here all along and I was shocked to see it.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Relic of a Hippie Summer

This summer I will
star gaze
sleep outside
learn to drive
find my cause
sit on a rooftop
have an adventure
make people smile
take lots of pictures
go barefoot in the grass
teach Rambo something
and run and run and run and run

Thursday, February 3, 2011


@masha: for future reference, a bye is not a bye unless it's caught between a hug

Made My Day

Lying in bed, trying really hard to keep my eyes from closing and all of a sudden I notice my lips feel dry. I drank too much tea as usual. I reach for the tub of Petroleum Jelly on my desk. My fingers close around the little blue tip and I lift it into the air. Westbound, tub of Petroleum Jelly goes flying. Whooshes past my laptop and ricochets off the wall, then settles upon a bare patch of comforter.

That's almost like magic, right?

Magic In My Ears

I tried my best to avoid doing this but that was silly, there never was a chance.
It's high time I unveil my strength and my weakness.
Pink Floyd.
I refuse to say more for fear of never stopping but if you share the sentiment do reach out to me. 
My soul and your soul have a lot to talk about.
image source:

I Depart as Air

"I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you."

-Walt Whitman

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Something to Remember

I've decided that I like being. Today on the train I happened to take a deep breath and it felt nice and comfortable and it hit me how lucky I am to be able to just do that. All those little cells working together so that I can walk and think and take deep breaths whenever I feel like it. So much delicate teamwork just so we can be.