Monday, May 24, 2021
Life... Beautiful..:
Goodbye my love.. Till we meet again in the next life..
posted by spessie 9:11 pm 0 comments
posted by spessie 9:11 pm 0 comments
Sunday, August 12, 2018
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
Monday, May 01, 2017
i now know what i want:
Om Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah
Sarve Santu Nir-Aamayaah
Sarve Bhadraanni Pashyantu
Maa Kashcid-Duhkha-Bhaag-Bhavet
Om Shaantih Shaantih Shaantih
Meaning:
1: Om, May All become Happy,
2: May All be Free from Illness.
3: May All See what is Auspicious,
4: May no one Suffer.
5: Om Peace, Peace, Peace.
posted by spessie 6:43 pm 0 comments
Om Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah
Sarve Santu Nir-Aamayaah
Sarve Bhadraanni Pashyantu
Maa Kashcid-Duhkha-Bhaag-Bhavet
Om Shaantih Shaantih Shaantih
Meaning:
1: Om, May All become Happy,
2: May All be Free from Illness.
3: May All See what is Auspicious,
4: May no one Suffer.
5: Om Peace, Peace, Peace.
posted by spessie 6:43 pm 0 comments
Sunday, August 14, 2016
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Monday, November 17, 2014
Thursday, October 09, 2014
Tuesday, October 07, 2014
Friday, July 25, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
i would love a man, now if I could just love you:
posted by fuzzkill 10:29 pm 0 comments
GQ: Well, you don't necessarily have to look pretty to have style.
Tom Hardy: Style, I think, is panache. Who are you? What did you do today? And what are you worth to me? What do you have to offer the world? How did you spend your time today on this planet? How are you spending your time every second? What are you doing now? Are you alive, or are you somnambulant? If you are somnambulant, then you are a fucking prick. Style is your ability to be awake. But who the fuck am I to judge? I'm starting to get really arrogant.
Tom Hardy: Style, I think, is panache. Who are you? What did you do today? And what are you worth to me? What do you have to offer the world? How did you spend your time today on this planet? How are you spending your time every second? What are you doing now? Are you alive, or are you somnambulant? If you are somnambulant, then you are a fucking prick. Style is your ability to be awake. But who the fuck am I to judge? I'm starting to get really arrogant.
posted by fuzzkill 10:29 pm 0 comments
Thursday, May 09, 2013
Wednesday, May 08, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
In the end:
Because of the "constants and variables" idea, almost any ending you conceive has happened, is happening, will happen. If you look at it this way, we are all right.
posted by fuzzkill 1:24 am 0 comments
Because of the "constants and variables" idea, almost any ending you conceive has happened, is happening, will happen. If you look at it this way, we are all right.
posted by fuzzkill 1:24 am 0 comments
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
We’re all curious about what might hurt us:
posted by fuzzkill 5:01 pm 1 comments
| Conrad Aiken |
| 126. Morning Song From "Senlin" |
| IT is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning | |
| When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, | |
| I arise, I face the sunrise, | |
| And do the things my fathers learned to do. | |
| Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops | 5 |
| Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die, | |
| And I myself on swiftly tilting planet | |
| Stand before a glass and tie my tie. | |
| Vine-leaves tap my window, | |
| Dew-drops sing to the garden stones, | 10 |
| The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree | |
| Repeating three clear tones. | |
| It is morning. I stand by the mirror | |
| And tie my tie once more. | |
| While waves far off in a pale rose twilight | 15 |
| Crash on a white sand shore. | |
| I stand by a mirror and comb my hair: | |
| How small and white my face!— | |
| The green earth tilts through a sphere of air | |
| And bathes in a flame of space. | 20 |
| There are houses hanging above the stars | |
| And stars hung under a sea... | |
| And a sun far off in a shell of silence | |
| Dapples my walls for me.... | |
| It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning | 25 |
| Should I not pause in the light to remember God? | |
| Upright and firm I stand on a star unstable, | |
| He is immense and lonely as a cloud. | |
| I will dedicate this moment before my mirror | |
| To him alone, for him I will comb my hair. | 30 |
| Accept these humble offerings, clouds of silence! | |
| I will think of you as I descend the stair. | |
| Vine-leaves tap my window, | |
| The snail-track shines on the stones; | |
| Dew-drops flash from the chinaberry tree | 35 |
| Repeating two clear tones. | |
| It is morning, I awake from a bed of silence, | |
| Shining I rise from the starless waters of sleep. | |
| The walls are about me still as in the evening, | |
| I am the same, and the same name still I keep. | 40 |
| The earth revolves with me, yet makes no motion, | |
| The stars pale silently in a coral sky. | |
| In a whistling void I stand before my mirror, | |
| Unconcerned, and tie my tie. | |
| There are horses neighing on far-off hills | 45 |
| Tossing their long white manes, | |
| And mountains flash in the rose-white dusk, | |
| Their shoulders black with rains.... | |
| It is morning, I stand by the mirror | |
| And surprise my soul once more; | 50 |
| The blue air rushes above my ceiling, | |
| There are suns beneath my floor.... | |
| ...It is morning, Senlin says, I ascend from darkness | |
| And depart on the winds of space for I know not where; | |
| My watch is wound, a key is in my pocket, | 55 |
| And the sky is darkened as I descend the stair. | |
| There are shadows across the windows, clouds in heaven, | |
| And a god among the stars; and I will go | |
| Thinking of him as I might think of daybreak | |
| And humming a tune I know.... | 60 |
| Vine-leaves tap at the window, | |
| Dew-drops sing to the garden stones, | |
| The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree | |
| Repeating three dear tones. |
posted by fuzzkill 5:01 pm 1 comments
