RainyCoast

this exhaustion. so tired. so so tired.

... As soon as the shovel of time Threw me onto the potter's wheel- Myself without kith or kin- I grew beneath the hand, a miracle. Something stretched out my long neck And hollowed round my soul And marked on my back Legends of flowers and leaves. I stoked the birch in the fire As Daniel commanded And blessed my red temper Until i spoke as a prophet. I had long been the earth- Arid, ochre, forlorn since birth- But you fell on my chest by chance From beaks of birds, from eyes of grass. Arseny Tarkovsky

[video=youtube;d9cPX374RJY] ]

"yes" [url="

The startled salamander freezes And feigns death. This is the first step of consciousness among the stones, The purest myth, A great fire passed through, which is spirit. The salamander was halfway up The wall, in the light from our windows. Its gaze was merely stone, But I saw its heart beat eternal. O my accomplice and my thought, allegory Of all that is pure, How I love what draws up thus in silence The only force of joy. How I love what is in harmony with the stars through The inert mass of its whole body, How I love what awaits the hour of its victory And holds its breath and clings to the ground. Yves Bonnefoy

that everything is happening all at once.

sleep coast, please sleep.

kibble monster

just open the subforum (for example healing after breakup and divorce) and click "post new thread", then type away. it can take a while to appear on the main page, so have a nice cup of coffee ready while you're waiting. welcome to ena

you would probably have better luck getting responses if you started your own thread.

i have photos like that of me at work. these group photos, everyone looks great in them and there's me making this weird face like i just had a stroke. i'll literally cut myself out of those and paste photos of the work cat over the holes one day.

haha

*gasp* don't get me started on our local library. it's been useless post-renovation. i want to know the name of the person who went "hey, what's the point of the silent study room, or cubicles? who needs those? lets chuck that **** out and have a large common room instead" *fuming* and then you get people flipping through their papers, using their phones (NOT on silent), children running around pressing the animals in those "The Farm" squeaky books so you have to listen to this cacophony of "mooooOOOOOooooOOOO" and "look mommy, sheep: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaa" ](*,)

parenting

my aversion to proofreading, and all the embarrassing typos i find after i've hit send. i keep thinking if i can put spellcheck to a good use for work, i can't even blame it on the ADD. there must be a rotten streak of laziness at play if i can't be bothered to do it at home. also, it was supposed to be stormy. so far, five minutes of rain. please. rain.

walk away coast, walk away.

thanks, insider. i did not need to like Owl City.

also, when you send someone a very professional and polite email, and the "professional" sends a one-sentence reply with typos and "lol"s, "k"s and "C ya"s. i don't expect servility, but i expect professional manners. i'm not your homegirl. on the kitchen stuff, i am grossed out when i see people "wash" a mug they've just used by running it under the tap for three seconds, wiping the coffee stain off with their bare hands. eff that, dirty slobs. i haven't had a sip out of anything other than my waterflask and cups dispensed straight out the machine since forever. gross people. gross.

LA MIGRA The grownups sat on their long chair called couch And talked of the weather, the dew of the blossoms’ morning, And what might happen to us, the children. Mom said don’t leave the house, not without Papers. Do I dare speak of the papers hoarded In corners? How many more poems can you write About a face spackled with fear before It holds you? The reader aiming, too. Let us find a charcoaled corner, you and I, Where we will lay these words. Leave children To sleep in windowless rooms. The mother Biting a prayer. The country weaving a tomb. —José Antonio Rodríguez

Of the beyond I have no thought, When you reduce this world to nought, The other one may have its turn. My joys come from this earth, and there, That sun has burnt on my despair: Once I have left those, I don’t care: What happens is of no concern. I do not even wish to hear Whether beyond they hate or love, And whether in that other sphere One realm’s below and one above. — Faust

nothing. i'm a frickin content little rainbow unicorn.

"s/he is great, just not into texting."

there are alot, aren't there?

PP i'm so sorry. But i am glad your mother is so loved and cared for in her last days.

i want muscle. i want so much muscle.