“We never reach a goal hoped for. But we can reach a goal unhoped for. At times this can hold good surprises for me.” Hélène Cixous, Writing Blind I am trying to make something good here. I am doing it at the expense of the thing. Sometimes I forget. I wonder what could have been… Continue reading Hot room
Tag: Writing
Resort
“Every story tells of a ghost. At the end, the centre of a story is a Black Hole, but it isn’t black, and it isn’t dark. In the best case, it might gleam.” Judith Hermann, We Would Have Told Each Other Everything What I will say is this: spring always comes. That is not what… Continue reading Resort
March
Chose peace in the end and trying to congratulate myself for that, queasy with the thought that if my hand hadn’t been forced I’m not sure I would have done it. Knowing that what matters isn’t how we made the choice but the choice we made in the end, it doesn’t really matter how we… Continue reading March
With love on a birthday
"It is said that mourning, by its gradual labour, slowly erases pain; I could not, I cannot believe this; because for me, Time eliminates the emotion of loss (I do not weep), that is all. For the rest, everything has remained motionless. For what I have lost is not a Figure (the Mother), but a… Continue reading With love on a birthday
I am 29 and the world is at my feet
I have to start writing again, not because I've been wasting time finding other things to do but more because I've found new sanctity in time. I used to scoff at people who lamented the brevity of things as though they were greedy for wanting more than their share. Now I am hungry for everything… Continue reading I am 29 and the world is at my feet
July
It is this deep blankness is the real thing strange. The more things happen to you the more you can’t Tell or remember even what they were. The contradictions cover such a range. The talk would talk and go so far aslant. You don’t want madhouse and the whole thing there. - Let it Go,… Continue reading July
new haven
"Sometimes a vast solitude opened in my head and the entire world disappeared inside it, but came out again intact, without a scratch, with nothing missing." —Maurice Blanchot, The Madness of the Day Haven’t had anything to do with the man on my mind since he saw my initials on a list and emailed me… Continue reading new haven
Golden hour
I wish I was someone else, Someone good. I found a note on my phone that read: But there’s nothing there! There’s nothing here for me or anyone else. I can’t believe I’ve attached so much to stale tobacco on an armchair or not texting back. I don’t want to see something beautiful mowed down… Continue reading Golden hour
This isn’t about you it’s about me
I know you told me so, and you can save your breath if a thought like that is coming up to the surface. It’s hard out here – in here, and god knows I’m hard enough on myself. But I do honestly appreciate you telling me so and also for taking the time to hear… Continue reading This isn’t about you it’s about me
Letters for Rent 