He reminds me of one of my lecturers. In the best possible way.
So long!
Sonntag, 12. Februar 2012
Montag, 23. Januar 2012
Mittwoch, 18. Januar 2012
Sonntag, 15. Januar 2012
Word of the Day
loquacity
As stumbled upon in Ovid's story of the nymph Lara (which was hitherto unknown to me).
As stumbled upon in Ovid's story of the nymph Lara (which was hitherto unknown to me).
Freitag, 6. Januar 2012
Afternoon escapism
Stumbled upon accidentally, and thoroughly enjoyed:
http://gallery.thecreatorsproject.com/gallery/Cinmatique/2794297
So long.
http://gallery.thecreatorsproject.com/gallery/Cinmatique/2794297
So long.
Samstag, 31. Dezember 2011
Our Little Seal
...is a blog that traces the illness of Ronan, who has Tay-Sachs disease, written by his mother:
"The opposite of gnawing, heart-twisting ache is euphoric, the-top-of-your-head-opens-to-heaven joy. Perhaps the human body was built this way, in order to survive what life brings you. I watch my son, my beloved, snatched away from me in front of my drowning eyes. Looking at chronological photographs is like watching a film reel in reverse and in fast forward. I offer every trade I can think of (him for me, this for that) and am met with a blank and nasty and unforgiving, dangerous wind. My heart is a swollen thing I could pull out of my mouth and kick across the room. I was happy in Dublin, truly, but in a baby fat way. Because I wasn’t miserable at all then, I actually didn’t know what happiness meant until now, when I’m the saddest and most hopeless I’ve ever been in my life or ever imagined I might be.
So, yeah. Kierkegaard, Aristotle, yes. And Cosmo and race car movies and the Brazilian Butt Lift. This might be my new year’s combination resolution list for surviving grief’s shit storm.
Because, truly, the only resolution that would appear at the end of both lists? LIVE. In spite of everything; in the face of everything. Live. For 2012 that’s the only resolution I’ve got."
Go have a read at ourlittleseal.wordpress.com
"The opposite of gnawing, heart-twisting ache is euphoric, the-top-of-your-head-opens-to-heaven joy. Perhaps the human body was built this way, in order to survive what life brings you. I watch my son, my beloved, snatched away from me in front of my drowning eyes. Looking at chronological photographs is like watching a film reel in reverse and in fast forward. I offer every trade I can think of (him for me, this for that) and am met with a blank and nasty and unforgiving, dangerous wind. My heart is a swollen thing I could pull out of my mouth and kick across the room. I was happy in Dublin, truly, but in a baby fat way. Because I wasn’t miserable at all then, I actually didn’t know what happiness meant until now, when I’m the saddest and most hopeless I’ve ever been in my life or ever imagined I might be.
So, yeah. Kierkegaard, Aristotle, yes. And Cosmo and race car movies and the Brazilian Butt Lift. This might be my new year’s combination resolution list for surviving grief’s shit storm.
Because, truly, the only resolution that would appear at the end of both lists? LIVE. In spite of everything; in the face of everything. Live. For 2012 that’s the only resolution I’ve got."
Go have a read at ourlittleseal.wordpress.com
Abonnieren
Posts (Atom)
