February 2012
7 posts
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
PABLO NERUDA
Warm rain falling from the mountainous clouds. Walking slowly dressed in crimson thinking of Kyoto. Kissed by a lover in the Matsuo Tiasha garden. Quiet water and loud water. Love in the afternoon in imitation of history. Love before and love after.
PETER GREENAWAY The Pillow Book
pornforblind:
Эти ваши человеческие отношения, - сказал мне Аносов, - так сложны, мучительны и загадочны, что иногда является мысль: не одиночество ли - настоящее, пока доступное счастье.
Я дал их точные признаки; они, не думая даже подставлять правую для удара щеку, не прекращают отношений с людьми; но тень печали, в благословенные, сияющие, солнечные дни цветущего острова.
waur:
piano trio no 2 — franz schubert
January 2012
12 posts
Very depressed today. Unable to write a thing. Menacing gods. I feel outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness. I look down into the warm, earthy world. Into a nest of lovers’ beds, baby cribs, meal tables, all the solid commerce of life in this earth, and feel apart, enclosed in a wall of glass.
My inability to lose myself in a character, a situation....
My humble attempt to say at least who I am, to record like a machine of nerves the slightest impressions of my subjective and ultra-sensitive life—this was all emptied like a bucket that got knocked over, and it poured across the ground like the water of everything. I fashioned myself out of false colors, and the result is an attic made out to be an empire. My heart, out of which I spun the...
My mother said: you died like any man. How shall I age into that state of mind? I am the ghost of an infamous suicide, My own blue razor rusting at my throat. O pardon the one who knocks for pardon at Your gate, father - your hound-bitch, daughter, friend. It was my love that did us both to death.
SYLVIA PLATH, Electra on Azalea Path
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classicalliterature:
Shostakovich - String...
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Strange, when one thinks of all the other boys, infinite experimental kisses, test tube infatuations, crushes, pseudo-loves.
All through this physical separation, through the testing and the trying of the others, there has been this peculiar rapport, comradeship, of us two so alike, so similar, but for science-boy and humanities-girl - the introspection, self examination, biannual deep...
December 2011
12 posts
“The Louvre is a morgue; you go there to identify your friends.”
– Jean Cocteau (via abbeykoczur)
billie holiday, don’t explain
My New Year’s Eve Toast: to all the devils, lusts, passions, greeds, envies, loves, hates, strange desires, enemies ghostly and real, the army of memories, with which I do battle — may they never give me peace.
Patricia Highsmith, New Year’s Eve, 1947
vilis:
it’s 3:31 am, will not sleep listening to paroles paroles with alain delon whispering que tu es belle
!!!!!!
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merry christmas
joyeux noël
счастливого рождества
xxx
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I made no resolutions for the New Year. The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning and molding my life, is too much of a daily event for me.
ANAIS NIN
I have no fear of God, and yet fear keeps me awake at night, fear of the devil. And if I believe in the devil, I must believe in God. And if evil is abhorrent to me, I must be a saint.
Henry, save me from beatification, from the horrors of static perfection. Precipitate me into the inferno
ANAIS NIN The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin
I will always be the virgin-prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman
ANAIS NIN The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin
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Anonymous asked: why did your dear friend vilis have to deactivate her blog. it was beautiful:(
November 2011
9 posts
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G. F. Handel - Zadok the Priest
“If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of...”
– Sylvia Plath (via adiaphane)
pjorrt:
❁¸.•*´ in memorial of hristos/cnide `*•.¸❁
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How would you prepare to die, on a perfect April evening with young men gossiping and smoking by the graves? My bare feet felt the earth and urine trickled down my legs. I heard the click. Not yet. A trick.
Carol Ann Duffy, Shooting Stars
why pamper life’s complexity when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat
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una patada en los huevos, alberto iglesias
It’s a lazy Saturday afternoon, there’s a couple lying naked in bed reading Encyclopediea Britannica to each other, and arguing about whether the Andromeda Galaxy is more ‘numinous’ than the Resurrection. Do they know how to have a good time, or don’t they?
Carl Sagan
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The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of star stuff.
Carl Sagan
October 2011
15 posts
lngemisco tamquam reus, Culpa rubet vultus meus, Supplicanti parce, Deus.
Qui Mariam absolvisti Et latronem exaudisti, Mihi quoque spem dedisti.
Preces meae non sum dignae, Sed tu bonus fac benigne, Ne perenni cremet igne.
vilis:
Mozart Concerto for Piano and Orchestra...
“We lose too soon, and only find delight in withered husks of some dead memory.”
– (via xpn)
After two years’ absence she finally returned to chilly Europe, a trifle weary, a trifle sad, disgusted by our banal entertainments, our shrunken landscapes, our impoverished lovemaking. Her soul had remained over there, among the gigantic, poisonous flowers. She missed the mystery of old temples and the ardor of a sky blazing with fever, sensuality and death. The better to relive all...
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My love for you is more athletic than a verb, Agile as a star The tents of sun absorb. Treading circus tight ropes Of each syllable, The brazen jackanapes Would fracture if he fell. Acrobat of space The daring adjective Plunges for a phrase Describing arcs of love. Nimble as a noun, He catapults in air; A planetary swoon Could climax his career. But adroit conjunction Eloquently shall Link to...
karl jenkins - palladio (allegretto)
VILIS said: das heißen meine Liebe chérie
und ich weiß nicht ob sie mich lieb hat, ma douce