http://under-hill.blogspot.com/

decided to use this one again

honeybaked

recently

the winds are a-windin'.

Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame,
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped water-spout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life?


a section of the very lengthy goblin market by christina rossetti

drum
drums

8th february

part 1: there is nothing quite like being alone

part 2: i had two vivid flashes in my day today. the first one wasn't really as vivid as it was just pragmatic. i wore a long billowy skirt and when i came home after letting the dogs out i sat at a chair in the kitchen and pulled it over the vent where heat was blowing and i put my bare feet on the vent and all the heat clouded inside my skirt. i sat with my head against the wall. my head ended up in my lap

the second was definitely a moment, earlier, just before sun down would have been starting, i went outside to get a handful of snow to eat and when i opened the door i was met by whistling gusts of wind. i bent down to get the snow and looked up and saw the tops of the trees toward the right side of my yard swaying like ocean waves. i went inside and turned on the tv to see about the wind and it said "wind advisory" and that tonight wind will gust up to 40 miles an hour.

i feel sick

it was pity that stayed bilbo's hand

really desirous of a spicy avocado and boiled egg sandwich on some toast. the day has been an unhappy ocean of ups and downs. whereas normally they are more along the lines of "the calm before the storm", even though it's mostly just the calm, and never the storm. i've been thinking, if someone ever gave me a cake or something with "sorry" spelled out on it i would probably step on it or force feed it to them. whoever in their right mind thinks that that is an apology? granted, if a six year old accidentally spilled a drink on one of my articles of clothing and baked me a cake with sorry on it, i would accept it. but anyone who isnt in that situation is just a fucking wimp. maybe i have this animosity towards apology cakes because i've never recieved one and i don't truely know what it is like. but i think i have a pretty good idea of how i'd feel if i got one, which is something along the lines of, "worse than i already feel" coupled with a sarcastic thank you. i also feel like, now, that there are tons (aka a few) people who will read this and think "what a horse's ass". in response all i have to say is, these are the ones soft as an avocado.

gu

my pessimism has really earned quite a few more notches it seems, even though i am feeling relatively pleasant, because i hung up my clothes finally. i have also adopted yet another new habit for using an adjective and making it plural to describe a group of something, usually people. a bad habit are generalizations. however, i still wouldnt mind that sandwich

ehrmann

Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantenment
it is as perennial as the grass.

9:o1 pm. going to sleep and hopefully waking up in the morning with all this clay and hurt filling me now gone with the wind

"i'm going out because i deserve to go out and i'm going to get drunk because i deserve to get drunk, and get out of my way!"

CURRENTLY

i have adopted a new strange habit where i pull my bottom eyelids down and hold them while i'm reading or waiting for something or on the computer, so that they get dry and watery and then i blink a little and do it again. sustaining the unsustainable

feeling like sandy bates

"i would fain die a dry death."

It is so easy for me to muse on my day, feelings or memories on the computer but with a pen in hand the experience is a very different one. regardless i have some things to say tonight. the process of getting to know someone and developing a relationship worthy of a timeline is enlightening, in positive and negative ways. lately i have felt very certain of who i am happy to have in my life and about who i am glad isn't in my life anymore. unfortunately the process that everyone goes through to acheive this good feeling leaves me with the sensation of walking through headwind in the cold and the wind gets in your eyes and the tears jump out. but i am past this and have entered the sensation of the warm home. i have yet to truely discover what it feels like of someone to enter my life and then exit it but then re enter it. the re entering is what has eluded me, surely this has happened but looking back the people who come back never really left me. but the people who i consider "gone" right now, if they came back it would definitely be a new experience, and i don't know if i want this to happen, but if eventually it does, (and i'm sure at one point or another it will) well i guess that will be where fate has taken them.

thousand purple cups of wine

i have been spending a lot of time alone which i usually consider a good thing because my life is not filled with trimmings that i have not chosen, which last year my life was full of them. and to have finally sloughed the last of it off is terribly relieving. But despite my strengthened spirit, i do feel alone. i do have feelings

i love this girl

these pictures remind me that i

"am i so dear? do i run rare?"

it's sad when exciting things end

when will you wipe my conscience clean?

re arranged my room last night and it makes me feel very different and better. it's incredible how much more intimate this room feels.

cleaning and listening to larkin grimm

gandalf, sarah vaughan, and sleep sleep sleep

"It is so rare in this world to meet a trustworthy person who truly wants to help you, and finding such a person can make you feel warm and safe, even if you are in the middle of a windy valley high up in the mountains."

newsom

deep in the night
shone a weak and miserly light
where the monkey shouldered his lamp

someone had told him
the bear had been wandering
a fair piece away from where they were camped

someone had told him
the bear'd been sneaking away
to the seaside caverns, to bathe

and the thought troubled the monkey
for he was afraid of spelunking down in those caves
also afraid what the village people would say
if they saw the bear in that state;
lolling and splashing obscenely
well, it seemed irrational, really; washing that face
washing that matted and flea-bit pelt
in some sea-spit-shine, old kelp dripping with brine
but monkey just laughed, and he muttered;
when she comes back, Ursala will be bursting with pride

'til I jump up!
saying: you've been rolling in muck!
saying: you smell of garbage and grime!

but far out
far out
by now
by now
far out, by now, Bear ploughed
'cause she would not drown:

first the outside-legs of the bear
up and fell down, in the water, like knobby garters
then the outside-arms of the bear
fell off, as easy as if sloughed from boiled tomatoes
low'red in a genteel curtsy
bear shed the mantle of her diluvian shoulders;
and, with a sigh, she allowed the burden of belly
to drop like an apronfull of boulders

if you could hold up her threadbare coat to the light
where it's worn translucent in places
you'd see spots where almost every night of the year
Bear had been mending suspending that baseness
now her coat drags through the water
bagging, with a life's-worth of hunger, limitless minnows
in the magnetic embrace
balletic and glacial of Bear's insatiable shadow

this is a piece of monkey and bear and i withhold the opinion that it is one of if not the most saddest song she has ever written. and not to mention it is sung in the most perfect way

very very very very very very very...

as pale as a candlestick

getting weirder and weirder as my hair grows and grows and goes. i remember two years ago/some of last year during school i'd go to bed between one and three and 11 or 10 was so early but now if i'm up after ten pm i start to get worried for some reason. lately i've been getting these little bursts of electric pain in the side of my neck and i told my dad and he says he gets those too. we are similar. i'm like his parents too. when my back hurts and i'm in school and i'm slumped and cracking it every ten minutes i have these terrible visions that my spine is (still) a thick wiry rope tied and gnarly but now ive been feeling these lumps (knots) that i imagine are horrible growths on the rope. it can really put one out. this is like how i've been convincing myself i have parasites for half of my life. complaints complaints

on thanksgiving i put superglue on the little cut but i peeled it off that night

edit: on the note of sleeping the weird thing is is that because past ten pm or whenever, i feel worried and anxiety coming about me, and then i have to reassure myself it's okay if i go to sleep at 12, or 11, or 11.30.. or whatever, and that in the grande scheme it really doesnt matter when i go to sleep. it's a strange feeling to be so worried that i won't have time to sleep. if theres anything we'll always have time for it's sleep and there's never enough time for anything else

what was yours and mine

something was a little off in that one little phrase

buried in the snow

buried in yellow froth.
moody day. i woke up with an immediate flooding wave of thought so heavy it was a little burdening
bones so white
i'm hoping

"that true kiss vanished the minute their lips seperated"

i'm weaving with tons of embroidery thread right now and listening to a radiolab podcast about memory and forgetting and i learned this: that a "memory" is a) a physical thing (proteins.) and b) (a commonly agreed upon theory) when we remember something we basically are creating a new memory, we're reproducing it and re experiencing it. and every time we remember something we change it in some small subconscious way, so essentially the more you think about something, dwell on it, remember it, recreate it, the less and less you remember the true event itself, because each remembrance yields another changed aspect. and so you never really know if your memories are real or if they're completely fabricated (if theyre 5, 10, 15 years old, and so on) depending on how often you remember them. there is no such thing as storing a memory completely as it is and being able to look at it at a later date, even if it's a second later.

and moreover, the next scenario they provided was: you kiss someone and they kiss you back and then thirty years later, after not thinking about the kiss at all every beyond that original event (somehow), say the man sees the woman getting out of a train and remembers their kiss: then that memory is infinitely more accurate than if he'd been thinking about it every day of his life up to that moment

bawl bellow

it was unusually gray today. the grey sky is nice in the fall and winter for me, because when the sky is blue and sunny it feels a little like the cosmos are teasing me; it's sunny but hey it's 35 degrees out! most of the time i prefer greyness though because i feel a little more hidden but at the same time it's a nicer contrast to the trees and people around it, all those red cheeks lips and noses and fluttering hair against a white sky.
but by unusually i mean very dark but at the same time, light, like a pillowcase full of pitch. after school today i showered and scrubbed my face and felt so clean and no one was home so i sang REALLY loudly and imagined myself performing in front of an audience.. and everyone was having a nice time in the scenario. And when i sat at the bottom of the shower. like always, at the end after all the lavender soaping and shampoo and scrubbing flakes of skin and hair off me, it's the nicest feeling to melt into glass and tile under scalding rain after an aching day.


my mind keeps traveling

sunday

I woke up today and rolled over and looked out the window and noticed the barren branches.


It is winter.

happy thanksgiving

cut to the bone marrow


end of the day reflection: gently suffocating

rare grace

Before for a few weeks i would go to sleep relatively early, but not be able to fall asleep for a while and i'd wake up two or so times from nightmares. but now, all of a sudden it's a different kind of stirring, a different kind of sleeplessness, where my sleep is so heavy and silent that it is over before I can even close my eyes and heave the nightly wonted sigh of these unwonted expectations

"this little journey"

i want to see you and close my eyes and put my hands on your face and feel every dent and intake

hills and hills aplenty

last night i saw harry potter and it was really incredible and the ending was noiseless and looming. i don't really understand why they completely re animated dobby/why he was voiced by a different person but his role was really sentimental and sad. i had a long dream that might have been two dreams but if it was they had no break in the middle, and i remember waking up and it was dark and i leaned over and drank a lot of water made cold because it gets cold at night but i don't think i checked the time which i ordinarily always do. when i got home last night i felt very reflective and like there were a lot of things that occured yesterday that contributed to it. most of the time i feel topsy turvy or like when you're in a car or a bike and you go over a hill and your stomach drops only there is a series of hills. and i guess each hill is a person or a recent occurance. this is the first time in a while i noticed that the reason for my emotions isn't because of past things but present ones. i'm a little tired of the feeling of going all the way up a hill only to just glide down it again, it's like carrying a huge sack of flour and when you have just reached your destination the bag falls and the flour spills everywhere

i feel like my face has changed so

"For the enlightened, all that exists is nothing but the Self, so how could any suffering or delusion continue for those who know this oneness?"

how i feel

!

the sorrow of love

The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the sorrows of her labouring ships,
And all the burden of her myriad years.

And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.



w.b. yeats

"Awful atoll
O, incalculable indiscreetness and sorrow
Bawl, bellow:
Sibyl sea-cow, all done up in a bow

Toddle and roll;
Teeth an impalpable bit of leather
While yarrow, heather and hollyhock
Awkwardly molt along the shore"

I just

theres a time and place for others but a time and place for being alone

My life is full of renegades

edit
Today I used my brother's computer and went onto omegle video and one of the strangers said
"Your hair
is nice"

feeling like frodo

Missing things so much it's like almost regretting them ever happening

"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on? And in your heart you begin to understand; there is no going back. There are some things that time cannot mend some hurts that go too deep that've taken hold."

I almost admire the ones who can forget people and situations
just like that

i like poetry
Poetree

today is the second time i've spent three hours on an essay. I like writing essays but I put too much effort into them. Maybe the blaring joanna newsom distracted me

apples

I feel sad and very very alone and my memories taste like blood in my throat, dry and bitter and a hollow sorrow heart made of rotting wood. Maybe that's why I've been drinking sweet tea to the point where my tongue is literally saccharine. Physical habits don't cure emotions, emily, naïve naïve naïve

"Each phantom limb lost"

topsy turvy

"Hummingbird
just let me die"

sweet and full of someone else's flowers

listening to the wnyc radiolab podcast and getting my things together for tomorrow. looking forward to the rain

Tired of being me

i like packaged sunflower seeds because theyre good to eat when i'm angry or depressed and i can open them, leave them sitting and then a month later eat them and they'll still be crunchy and delicious

some people just upset me without trying

What do you do when...

Todd: A sweaty toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain!
Keating: Oh, that's excellent! Now make him do something!
Todd: His hands reach out and choke me!
Keating: That's it! That's wonderful! Wonderful!
Todd:And all the time he's mumbling.
Keating: What's he mumbling?
Todd: Mumbling truth!
Keating: Yes, yes?
Todd: Truth like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold!
Keating: Forget them, forget them! Stay with the blanket! Tell me about that blanket!
Todd: You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it'll just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.
Dead Poets Society

And on that note I always think what if the reflections and the uncountable pictures of us are just not actually how we look at all but just what we think we look like. You could be anything or anyone else or any number of people and you'll never know what you truely look like. It's kind of like the real life thought about the distance between your perception and their perception and how only you and your solipcism matters. You know the lines and the bumps and the softness and where it tickles and hurts and intricately few people will ever know those things who aren't you. It's kind of like a nightmare now that I think of it that I might only think I look this way but not at all at the same time because the way you see yourself is the way you are. You can't trust the opinions of others so why would you listen to someone tell you who you are? So if your delicious and rotten view of yourself is something physically different and we never see the opposite of ourselves the way everyone else does that's just exactly the way it is now.
I always have thoughts then when I really think or wrote them I realize that there are loop holes every where. Loopholes where sticky truth drips like honey

just now i picked up my glass of plain water (at first i typed plain waiter) by the rim of the glass and stood in front of a full length mirror and thought about how different i feel when i look at myself and i'm not wearing my glasses versus when i'm looking at myself with my glasses on. i only wear them when i have to see something far away, excluding my reflection, so after i updated my lenses after five months of not being able to see 20/20 i feel like i don't see myself the way that everyone else does. because i look at myself in the mirror and think things but then i put on my glasses and realize oh, wait, nothing has changed, or just "no"
sometimes there's just nothing you can say
sometimes there's just nothing

people who live with cats

i love how when you have a pet cat/cats in your house and they have their own seperate plans and you have your own seperate plans and you walk through rooms in the house carrying your plans out and they too and sometimes you walk into a room and a cat is sleeping in there

emily

Where could she be

relax your aching bones

I've had this list going for a while. It used to be longer.
b o o k s t o r e a d
OR;
b o o k s a l r e a d y r e a d , b u t t o buy:

Lunaception
Life as we don't know it
Memoirs of food at gipsy house
Death in venice
A lover's discourse
Oxford companion to wine
Candy
No country for old men
To the white sea
My uncle oswald
Peter pan
Gilead
The thousand autumns of jacob de zoet
Cloud atlas
The unbearable lightness of being
England have my bones
The white tiger
The willoughbys
O Pioneers!
Wind, sand, and stars (exupery)
The count of monte cristo
The diving bell and the butterfly
Mason and dixon
rue mclanahans autobiography
Esterhazy: the rabbit prince
The omnivores dilemma
the virgin suicides
kornwolf
pale blue dot
Little pig robinson
New Russian English Dictionary
Slaughterhouse five
Patterns from nature
Both ways is the only way I want it
I capture the castle
Across the river and into the trees
The winding stair and other poems
Huck finn
Doctor zhivago
14,000 things to be happy about
The blind assassin
the shadow of the wind
here there be dragons
Gormenghast series:
1. Titus groan
2. Gormenghast
3. Titus alone (the overlook press edition)
Boy in darkness
the lemming condition
20,000 leagues under the sea
Ficciones (jorge luis borges)
100 years of solitude
Oryx and crake

semper

i miss vibrant
and golden dawn