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[06 Dec 2009|09:17pm] |
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
-One Art by Elizabeth Bishop
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| Dean Koontz's Frankensten, by Dean Koontz and Kevin J. Anderson |
[05 Dec 2009|02:46pm] |
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All flesh is grass, and withers, and the fields of the mind, too, are burned black by death and do not grow green again.
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[02 Dec 2009|06:59pm] |
Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore.
Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.
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| 1984 by george orwell |
[01 Dec 2009|08:53pm] |
WAR IS PEACE
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY
IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH
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| Better Than Sex: Confessions of a Political Junkie, by Hunter S. Thompson. |
[01 Dec 2009|06:53pm] |
I was pushed and leaned on like the Marquis de Sade. In the summer of 1990 I came under serious attack by the forces of evil. I was in full retreat, like Lee after Gettysburg, and my spirit was feeling week--and it was then, at my weakest, that I was backed into a corner and attacked on my own turf by the president of the United States, the prime minister of Englang, the Secret Service, the press, the liberals, John Denver, the police, Pat Buchanan, all my creditors, many foreigners and a coalition of extremely rich Nazis who had swarmed into Aspen that summer to mingle and wallow in the glitz.
They were ugly people, but they were expensively dressed and they had a certain glow about them that said were in charge. Which was true. They were the rich and powerful, the elite suave friends of the New World Order.
And I was definitely not one of them. I was on the run, a crude outlaw about to be captured and put in some kind of cage for the amusement of George and Maggie.
It was weird, Bubba--and then it began to get weirder. Take my word for it. I was there.
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| an education, lynn barber |
[30 Nov 2009|11:07am] |
"But there were other lessons Simon taught me that I regret learning. I learned not to trust people; I learned not to believe what they say but to watch what they do; I learned to suspect that anyone and everyone is capable of living a lie. I came to believe that other people, even when you think you know them well, are ultimately unknowable. Learning all this was a good basis for my subsequent career as an interviewer, but not, I think, for life. It made me too wary, too cautious, too ungiving. I was damaged by my education."
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| new moon stephenie meyer |
[29 Nov 2009|04:43pm] |
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Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.
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