Errances

I can’t listen to bowie without thinking about her

ps : it still didn’t pass

« Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds »
-USPS

this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but a whimper

-T. S. Eliot, ‘The Hollow Men’

i still can’t understand what an oxford comma is supposed to be

been feeling’ like a canary in a coal mine lately

the only supermarket i want to shop at is mr.fox’s

as we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
a million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
for the people hear us singing: bread and roses! bread and roses!

as we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
for they are women’s children, and we mother them again.
our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.

as we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.

-james hoppenheim, 1911

life is too short to talk about metaphysics

I still remember us
all day in bed
watching mister gadget

breakfast food and morning cartoons
that spill in the afternoon

yesterday i saw lady di
in the flesh
and fell in love a little

i’d be good at devotion, i know it
i think we all crave for some sort of higher power
shame i can’t bring myself to believe

a sunday bloody sunday kinda love

I feel a bit clearer now. Everything’s been out of order. Time, I mean.

I thought for so long that time was like a line, that our moments were laid out like dominoes, and that they fell, one into another. And on it went, just days tipping, one into the next, into the next, in a long line between the beginning…and the end.

But I was wrong. It’s not like that at all. Our moments fall around us like rain. Or… like snow… or confetti.

-The haunting of Hill House

aux bois, à rennes, je croyais qu’on disais moi

qu’est-ce qu’un monstre ? un être dont la survie est incompatible avec l’ordre existant
-diderot (presque)

i’m not sur if i hate scouts or if I just fear them

pieces of wood between your teeth
I got splinters all over

a fish grew legs and now you’re paying taxes
nothing means anything and it never has

oh won’t someone pull wild mountain thyme with me

mountain home arkansas does seem like an odd place to grow up in

you were made of aluminium and paper
laughing at us through the city
i could still hear you through the vapor
shouting at the gps lady

skin to skin like stone to stone
sparks – but broken bones

it’s 10 P.M., do you know where your children are?

panem et circenses = bread and roses?

aujourd’hui un prof a dit : « c’est récent ça date de 2003 »
je suis né en 2003.

sittin’ on the desk
mr. Keating style

the night we met was of stone
and concrete and glass
will you be here by dawn?
wherever I saw you last
we can’t survive on those alone
the fragment of the past