Tag Archives: sleep

selections from Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

‘I think,’ said Anna, toying with the glove she had taken off, ‘I think . . . if there are as many minds as there are men, then there are as many kinds of love as there are hearts.’ Continue reading

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selections from Of Walking in Ice by Werner Herzog

Our Eisner mustn’t die, she will not die, I won’t permit it. She is not dying now because she isn’t dying. Not now, no, she is not allowed to. My steps are firm. And now the earth trembles. When I move, a buffalo moves. When I rest, a mountain reposes. She wouldn’t dare! She mustn’t. She won’t. When I’m in Paris she will be alive. She must not die. Later, perhaps, when we allow it. Continue reading

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favorite 2016 music

Continue reading

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2016 on last.fm

lastfm-2016 Continue reading

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Constipolis

to sit at the typewriter and transcribe the thoughts
that had occurred to you moments ago while
defecating into a porcelain bowl
and
wondering how many of the great minds stared into the distance
of space and time and how many times they looked down
and saw what i was looking at now. Continue reading

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half of what i say is meaningless

three more days of work. less than three weeks until New York.

then: more than half a year of walking.

now? every moment a melding of dream and reality.

my lover lies at my side sleeping. i am in her bed, our bed… in her house, my house. we are not married nor engaged, and yet i have never felt such strong conviction in my love. if possible, it is deeper or more all-encompassing than conviction. it is decision, resolution, revelation.

the past few days, i have been moving so many boxes. boxes of records, boxes of clothes, boxes of bullshit. so many goddamn boxes. the modern age is all about acquiring things and putting them in boxes. in fact, we adore boxes so much that we live in boxes ourselves. and yet we wonder why cats care so much about boxes.

after leaving the office today, i boarded a railbound box headed downtown and immediately recognized a pretty little lady sitting near the window. she smiled at me and i smiled back almost laughing, wondering whether she would come over for a chat.

“Julia?”

“wow, you remember my name.”

“ronny.”

“oh man i was gonna say ‘ron!'”

this simple dialogue is a big deal for me. i can remember names. Julia’s a girl from Ohio who’d recently moved to San Francisco. i learned this when, a couple months ago, i caught her eyeing me on the same muni train after work. when i asked what was up, she confessed her admiration for my reading Charles Darwin’s “Origin of Species,” almost word-for-word in the way that other girl once talked to me on muni about my reading Einstein. in any case, Julia and i talked about a bunch of things that first time, including how i should listen to Lauren O’Connell and read Aldo Leopold’s “Sand County Almanac.”

in today’s encounter, things went even deeper. in less than ten minutes, we went from Emily Dickinson poetry (because of the book in my hand) to feminism. we talked about how women in business try to speak in lower voices so men take them seriously and we talked about why guys don’t wear dresses. and we talked about how those things ultimately represent the next great hurdle in gender equality. so far gender equality has been about bringing women to the same level as men… but… what if that’s incredibly short-sighted? what if true equality requires a complete rethinking and restructuring of the way the world functions, from business to culture to art? perhaps we shall never know harmony until we understand and appreciate the beauty in both femininity and masculinity and how to entwine the two, instead of just focusing on granting masculine powers to feminine beings.

Julia wrote her mailing address on a post-it note so i could send her postcards from the walk. i predict she will be a beautiful, wondrous friend for the future. i hope!

last night, four whole nights after discussing the nature of lucid dreams w friends, i traversed a vivid dream world. the beginning, or what i recall as the beginning, took on the tone of a gory bloodbath from a Blizzard game. except i, sword in hand, experienced the grotesque, poisonous attacks of mutalisks in the first-person. what seemed like an era later, i found myself at the very same site of that battle as it appeared at a later, more peaceful date. it was now a mansion surrounded on all sides by walls of junk. i wandered among the dusty corridors a warrior still, and attempted to scale the junkyard with a trusted German Shepherd at my side (who in the dream i called Kaiser though he looked more American than my dad’s dog).

in the morning, i awoke to birds chirping “Goodbye Blue Sky” from their digital prison in my smartphone. Continue reading

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selections from Electra and other plays by Sophocles

And I am as you see me now. Continue reading

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Paris · Farningham · London · Amsterdam

~ 0 ~
horrible traffic
in n out
4-hour delay
“this is the worst airline ever”
chili’s out of salad and Mexican food
geographically challenged hostess
know your rights!
sleep? dreamy purple pinkish tint thereof
a moment in Oslo
Paris
nightmare on rue chaptal
Moulin Rouge

~ 1 ~
walk to espresso
Tour Eiffel
walk along the Seine
lunch in the Latin Quarter?
Notre Dame
espresso for the Louvre
kill in the garden
fancy ass French food
Arc de Triomphe
legs falling off
white wine and Lucky Strike

~ 2 ~
Père Lachaise
Indian at Chapelle
Musée d’Orsay
USA WINS 0-1
fancy ass fucking ave (dck sp + chkn brst)
farewell to the Seine
1-2-3!!! something something Algérie!!!

~ 3 ~
omelette complet at the Gare du Nord
Eurostar to Ebbsfleet
tea (twice) on the Tabsfield green
tomato basil, cheesy mushroom quiche, fresh strawberry creme brûlée, and a couple pints with the wedding party and co.
the cottage

~ 4 ~
fresh fruit, meat, a poached egg, and coffee
dressing for the wedding
Frost on the green
wedding at St Peter and St Paul’s Church
half Indian feast and dance (the Brits, the delicious Indian food, the champagne beer red and white wine, the light rain, and heavy dancing)
afterparty at the cottage

~ 5 ~
breakfast redux (hungover version)
football w Maya on the green
to London
appetizing Indian leftovers
The Tower
wandering in the rain
St. Paul’s
old fucking white egg-headed, perfectly circular black spectacle-wearing, pound-grubbing pieces of shit ushers guarding against pilgrims at the footsteps to the house of god
covent garden
pho
lazying and familying

~ 6 ~
waking up sans Natalie in a nasty mood
bacon on a roll
cold shower
Tate Modern
Eat.
The Globe
Parliament
Westminster
Evensong
Upminster then Whitechapel
ALG v GER

~ 7 ~
waking up w Natalie, happily
full English breakfast in Whitechapel
Natural History Museum
Kensington Gardens
fancy ass Indian food
£5 to the girl from Canada Macedonia CA
USA v BLG :(

~ 8 ~
scratched iris
mushroom omelette
nap to
Stonehenge
and nap from
Nando’s w David and Evelyn

~ 9 ~
to Amsterdam
grocery shopping
white wine
Concertgebouw
a spliff at Rookie’s
shoarma on the corner

~ 10 ~
homemade breakfast
double espresso
spliff on the diagonal green
Rijksmuseum
shopping, snacks in bed
Little Thai Prince
red light district
overpriced and pre-rolled
stoned wander home
ice cream

~ 11 ~
bacon breakfast
Blue Bird
Myrabelle, bartended by a more muscular and more feminine version of John Dwyer.
gluten-free crackers, goat cheese, smoked salmon, olives dripping in oil and basil, water, and wine
second Thai dinner
Vondelpark
Amstels all night at the cafe
NED v CRC

~ 12 ~
nightmare
check out
fresh fruit pancake across from Anne Frank
spliff on the green
Van Gogh Museum
rest in Vondelpark
walk
coffee
bus
plane
tube

~ 13 ~
tube
train
plane
Oslo
plane
Oakland
home? Continue reading

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words and verses from C. Day Lewis’ translation of the Aeneid

The begetter of gods and men inclined towards her the smiling
Countenance which calms the sky and makes fair weather,
Gently kissed his daughter’s mouth, and began to speak:–
Fear no more, Cytherea. Take comfort, for your people’s
Destiny is unaltered; you shall behold the promised
City walls of Lavinium, and exalt great-hearted Aeneas
Even to the starry skies. I have not changed my mind.
I say it now–for I know these cares constantly gnaw you–
And show you further into the secret book of fate:
Aeneas, mightly warring in Italy, shall crush
Proud tribes, to establish city walls and a way of life,
Till a third summer has seen him reigning in Latium
And winter thrice passed over his camp in the conquered land.
His son Ascanius, whose surname is now Iulus–
Ilus it was, before the realm of Ilium fell–
Ascanius for his reign shall have full thirty years
With all their wheeling months; shall move the kingdom from
Lavinium and make Long Alba his sure stronghold.
Here for three hundred years shall rule the dynasty
Of Hector, until a priestess and queen of Trojan blood,
With child by Mars, shall presently give birth to twin sons.
Romulus, then, gay in the coat of the tawny she-wolf
Which suckled him, shall succeed to power and found the city
Of Mars and with his own name endow the Roman nation.
To these I set no bounds, either in space or time;
Unlimited power I give them. Even the spiteful Juno,
Who in her fear now troubles the earth, the sea and the sky,
Shall think better of this and join me in fostering
The cause of the Romans, the lords of creation, the togaed people.
Thus it is written. An age shall come, as the years glide by,
When the children of Troy shall enslave the children of Agamemnon,
Of Diomed and Achilles, and rule in conquered Argos.
From the fair seed of Troy there shall be born a Caesar–
Julius, his name derived from great Iulus–whose empire
Shall reach to the ocean’s limits, whose fame shall end in the stars.
He shall hold the East in fee; one day, cares ended, you shall
Receive him into heaven; him also will mortals pray to.
Then shall the age of violence be mellowing in peace:
Venerable Faith, and the Home, with Romulus and Remus,
Shall make the laws; the grim, steel-welded gates of War
Be locked; and within, on a heap of armaments, a hundred
Bronzen knots tying his hands behind him, shall sit
Growling and bloody-mouthed the godless spirit of Discord. (20-21) Continue reading

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Natalie Supervolcano

steaming vibrant as the Grand Prismatic Spring,
the lucky linens ’round my woman’s skinny waist.
unseen as a grizzly in the darkness grazes,
my coffee goddess struts in twilight blinking,
brown and brown her skin’s sweet hue
as blue the sky for miles and miles…
and when she widens bright her piercing eyes,
beauty beyond beauty, i’m left unthinking.

like gas and fire polka dot dancing in the night,
the crescent light gleaming from her certain smile.
like sleepless geysers roaring under the earth,
my sun-encircled angel lies dreamless winking,
boyish saliva exalting her temples to her toes
like rivers white and regal carving canyons deep…
but when she hyperventilates her tears,
beauty beyond beauty, i’m left unthinking.

blurring the lines between my sanity and my
love,

the thick fruit
my woman bears. Continue reading

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