Part Of Speech Remains Unknown
This post, of course, is necessary. Anyways as you may well know I have a very serious aversion to watching movies or reading books alone. But actually I can watch movies alone, as long as I am left alone for a period of time to digest and think about them. I watched 2 movies today: Birdman and Interstellar. Actually I began watching Interstellar with an ex-boyfriend (he was my boyfriend at the time) but he was distracted and so I never got around to watching it. Until today. By the way I highly recommend both of them. If I get around to making a "LIST OF MOVIES THEODORA BELIEVES EVERY SENSIBLE HUMAN BEING SHOULD WATCH" they will be on those lists.
And here, a poem:
Is there a proper barrier between accessible and luminous?
I am wondering about the train again. What about Camus?
We were waiting for him, and for little Murakami to arrive.
Are they here yet? If not, won't you take out your guitar
and sing me something sweet?
If I die and you want to remember me:
name a shade of rose gold after me, and if not that,
try a proper lavender shade. Toss it on all the walls and say,
Hey, that looks nice.
Life moves quickly,
in all-encompassing shades of cool that sweep us off our feet.
fall behind, dear
. I admit, I miss you.
(part of speech remains unknown)
A gathering orchestrated across an arbitrary number of miles and years.
A practice in letting the most profound things remain in the mouth.
The rest of the time it is a softer feeling;
this is practical because it moves one mountain and is never too hard to bear.
A play in which the actors remain
number of miles apart;
all scenes play out in the theoretical space between them.
See also: Is patience a renewable resource?
Scene 1 // It is more beautiful to be thrilling than beautiful.
A softspoken voice that is most keenly felt when eaten by the rain. Park bench.
Scene 2 // Late summer night marked by sweat and cotton candy,
riding the merry-go-round. A fight breaks out over the chariot,
and then the lion, and then the horses.
Scene 3 // The earth is holding itself. The smell of wet dirt and
worms, rubbery on the sidewalk. A house across the street has filled with water
but strangely, the town is just fine.
Scene 4 // A cafe. There is nothing soft about bare skin.
Too many words and obscure songs which only he has ever heard of.
They exist only because he is there as testament to them.
Scene 5 // During a foray to the library they argue about Camus.
"Would you rejoice more at a god of Death," he asks, "or the death of God?
Scene 6 // On a slip of paper she writes: Must one feel
something to feel something? No other words are exchanged.
Scene 7 // Boy-man alone, triumphant, ruling on a throne of books
he has read and dissected before a crowd.
The meeting was always inevitable; it was planned long before
his arrival, and mine. After looking out
the window for enough time the cactus grew tired and fell
in a mess to the wood panels, the
artificial ones that were seventy-five cents a yard.
The least of the things to worry about is to-morrow,
which will be solved quickly enough with all the
other problems and vexations.
Because I cannot speak about you without
including myself in the equation, here is an apology.
Part of me wonders what happens when the camera pans
away from each of these scenes. We live life equally, until
somewhere between the interludes and stained moments the truth
comes out, laid bare before the others. Urban forests, and then the
realization that words aren't enough anymore. The gods have known
that for centuries, waiting all the while.
I wrote a lot of poems today and it was a triumph. It was a productive day, I think? There is a whole lot of traffic in Jogja right now (not literally because it is 12 in the morning) because everyone is going on vacation, I think. I will not make this a very long blog post because really I just wanted to post the poem. But I will tell you a little about my day!
I arrived last night in Jogja at around 02:30 am. Then I ate 2 slices of pizza and started reading Frankenstein. Now, I am incapable of putting a book down until I have finished it. Incapable. Naturally this means I finished the book last night. So I think I went to bed at around 4 in the morning.
Frankenstein is also a wonderful book, by the way! I woke up this morning at 11 am which is the latest I've woken up in weeks. I am not sure yet what I will be doing in Jogja but hopefully this vacation will be fun. At the very least I will be writing a whole lot of short stories and poetry.
Maybe for my next blog post(s) I will review Birdman and Interstellar.
Anyway I hope you are having a lovely day, my deers! I think I will go to sleep now (or very, very soon).
I love you!