“Tomorrow’s a brand new day. Never been touched.”
~ Guzmin (Doorman), Modern Love S:1 – E1, When the Doorman is Your Main Man.
Photo: Mennyfox55. Related Posts: It’s been a long day
“Tomorrow’s a brand new day. Never been touched.”
~ Guzmin (Doorman), Modern Love S:1 – E1, When the Doorman is Your Main Man.
Photo: Mennyfox55. Related Posts: It’s been a long day
I remember, I remember … I closed my eyes. Eyelids are really just flesh curtains. Your eyes are always “on,” always looking; when you close them, you’re watching the thin, veined skin of your inner eyelid rather than staring out at the world. It’s not a comforting thought. In fact, if I thought about it for long enough, I’d probably want to pluck out my own eyes, to stop looking, to stop seeing all the time. The things I’ve seen cannot be unseen. The things I’ve done cannot be undone.
~ Gail Honeyman, Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine.
Photo: Mulholland Dr. 2001 (Naomi Watts) via i wanna see your eyes. Related Posts: It’s been a long day
Welcome to the world of reality — there is no audience. No one to applaud, to admire. No one to see you. Do you understand? Here is the truth — actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested… True heroism is you, alone, in a designated work space. True heroism is minutes, hours, weeks, year upon year of the quiet, precise, judicious exercise of probity and care — with no one there to see or cheer. This is the world.
— David Foster Wallace, The Pale King
Photo by patty maher. Quote: Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels. Related Posts: It’s been a long day
That sound of settling into the sheets and the covers has to be one of the best things in the world. Sleep is a mercy. You can feel it coming on, like being swept up in something.
– Marilynne Robinson, Lila: A Novel
Notes: Photo: Tatiana Koshutina (via see more). Quote via quotespile
Human life is a kind of myopia, everyone walking around, seeing only what’s in front of them, or not even that—passing each other by, embroiled in our little dramas to such an extent that we miss out on everything; making big what is small.
~ Sheila Heti, Motherhood: A Novel (Henry Holt and Co., May 1, 2018)
Notes: Illustration: Owen Gent. Related Posts: It’s been a long day
Sometimes
everything
seems
so
oh, I don’t know.
–Joe Brainard, “Poem” from The Collected Writings of Joe Brainard
Notes: Poem – Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels. Photo by damian hovhannisyan (via see more)
On some nights it’s best to stop thinking about the past, and all that’s been won and lost.
On nights like this, just getting into bed, crawling between the clean white sheets, is a great relief.
— Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic
Notes: Photo – windworkss. Quote – shitiunderline
Some days are like this:
you can’t move.
Can’t be moved.
What growth there is, is imperceptible.
A slow efflorescence.
— Thomas Centolella, from “Setsubun”, in Terra Firma
Notes:
Now the sun begins to swing down. Under the peach-light,
I cross the fields and the dunes, I follow the ocean’s edge.
I climb, I backtrack.
I float.
I ramble my way home.
~ Mary Oliver, “Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches” in West Wind: Poems & Prose
Notes: Poem via The Hammock Papers. Photo: Laurence Demaison. Related Posts: It’s been a long day
Everyone wants you to be Atlas,
to shoulder it all. Even the voice in your
head insists you are behind. But I’ve seen
the light in you, the one the gods finger
while we sleep. I’ve seen the blossom open
in your heart, no matter what remains to
be done. There are never enough hours
to satisfy the minions of want. So close
your eyes and lean into the Oneness that
asks nothing of you. When the calls stack,
answer to no one, though you receive them
all. Just open your beautiful hands, born with
nothing in them. You have never been more
complete than in this incomplete moment.
~ Mark Nepo, The Myth of Urgency in The Way Under the Way: The Place of True Meeting
Notes: Quote via mindfulbalance.org. Photo: Laurence Demaison (via see more). Related Posts: It’s been a long day
Daily life, work you chose and profess to love, domestic detail, the call and reply of other people’s lives, the beloveds mixed in there with everybody else who has a claim on you, the sheer wants and requests, always heard as demands, the gnats of need buzzing. Deadlines. Delivering. Always. Not to mention the weights of the past, hanging like bells gonging from your wrists.
~ Patricia Hampl, The Art of the Wasted Day
Notes. Photo: Thainá Reinert (via Your Eyes Blaze Out). Related Posts: It’s been a long day
the hour sinking into the emptiness of my
closed eyes
— Alejandra Pizarnik, from “the hour sinking,” The Galloping Hour: French Poems
Notes:
It’s like watching a zoo animal circle its cage.
For the first time, she realizes that being alone is a contradiction in terms.
Even in a body’s most private moments, something else joins in.
~ Richard Powers, from “Trunk” in The Overstory: A Novel
Notes:
The mind is a hotel with a thousand rooms. When I tilt my head a certain way, I think about certain things. When I tilt my head another way, I think about other things. If I sleep on the right side of my face, for example, I’d dream of a pale rose, the future, or a continental diner in Passaic, New Jersey. When I sleep on the left side of my face, I’d dream that a hand is squeezing my heart, that I’m in prison, or that I’m watching hockey at an airport bar, about to miss a flight.
~ Linh Dinh, “The Mind” from All Around What Empties Out
Notes:
Physics says: go to sleep. Of course
you’re tired. Every atom in you
has been dancing the shimmy in silver shoes
nonstop from mitosis to now.
Quit tapping your feet…Go to sleep…
Go to sleep. Let darkness
lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch.
You aren’t alone….
here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down.
— Albert Goldbarth, from “The Sciences Sing a Lullaby” in The Kitchen Sink: New and Selected Poems, 1972-2007
Notes:
It isn’t enough.
I was gulping for air that never came. You know, graceless.
Until I let go.
~ Rolando Rios, Queen of the South (S2:E:1)
Notes:
i am
allowing i am
wanting
another place to live
until this body calms down
— Rachel Alexandra Kass, from “A Lone”
Notes:
There are moments when,
whatever the posture of the body,
the soul is on its knees.
— Victor Hugo, from Les Miserables, Chapter IV. A Heart beneath a Stone
You push yourself to the edge
until you become the edge and teeter on yourself–
but there is no edge,
only new modes of consciousness swimming into one another.
~ Jim Harrison, from “A Natural History of Some Poems,” Just Before Dark: Collected Nonfiction
Notes: Poem source: Memory’s Landscape. Photography: No boundaries by Monique (via Mennyfox55)
The phoebe sits on her nest
Hour after hour,
Day after day,
Waiting for life to burst out
From under her warmth.
Can I weave a nest of silence,
weave it of listening,
listening, listening,
Layer upon layer?
But one must first become small,
Nothing but a presence,
Attentive as a nesting bird,
Proffering no slightest wish
Toward anything
that might happen or be given,
Only the warm, faithful waiting,
contained in one’s smallness.
Beyond the question,
the silence.
Before the answer,
the silence.
~ May Sarton, from Beyond the Question, A Grain of Mustard Seed: Poems
Notes: