She wasn’t going to pine for him like a silly girl with a heart as soft as summer fruit.
You know what I miss?
Chat services that didn’t tell you when someone had seen a message.
Why does my chat life now revolve around facebook? Can’t we branch out to something that isn’t trying to optimize chat as an instrument of torture?
I needed to get away for a bit, but lord do I miss Asheville and my little apartment and my plants and shelves upon shelves of books and walking places and cooking dinner and having wide open windows that let in the sun. Looking forward to returning home tomorrow, though it won’t be quite all mine again until Wednesday.
EPICLES a Southerner from sunlit Lycia
Climbed the Greek wall remembering the river
That winds between his wheatfields and his vineyards
He was knocked backwards by a rock
And sank like a diver
The light in his face went out
In Memorial: A Version Of Homer’s Iliad, Alice Oswald has “sliced away almost everything famous from what is usually presented as Homer’s original, and has left the reader with a haunting, violent, and yet incredibly beautiful look at the people who are usually ignored in any discussion of The Iliad — or indeed in any war.” Brian Spears has the review over at The Rumpus. (via therumpus)
Want to read.
This week, you’re going to feel called by your strangest dreams; you’re going to feel pulled by your most secret desires. Even at work, even in the grocery store, even on your slowest and greyest days, glittering visions of other worlds and other lives are will haunt you, they’ll call to you, they’ll stop you in your tracks with the bright beauty of what could be, if things were different. Be brave enough to say yes to these alternate worlds if you want them; be brave enough to say no.
I am so full of strange, wild feelings these days.
I think that maybe I like it.