I miss you mel

Borrowed from New York Craiglist Missed Connections...

I miss you mel - m4w (Date: 2007-01-31, 12:23AM EST)

Missing you like crazy.
Never be over you.
wonder if you think of me too.

-N

where I'm going...

anonymous, posted on postsecret.blogspot.com

This moment is your life.

Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

Omar Khayyam

in love in a movie.

Your problem is that you don’t want to be in love, you want to be in love in a movie.

Sleepless in Seattle

Ryb

I'll never forget about her...

From an article I read in the LA Times this morning about grieving teenagers seeking comfort by posting MySpace comments on their deceased friend's still-existing MySpace page...

"i feel like it has been forever and i am starting to forget the little things like the way you laughed and the crayon smell of your car even tho mine has the same smell i just miss you so much riri. life moves so fast and i feel like i never just have the time to stop and think about you and about life. life is so hectic right now and i find myself thinking and missing you most at night esp. cuz this is when i would normally call you up and we would swap stories from the night."

- Nealani Lopez (a 17-year-old Temecula resident who had known Rianna Woolsley since seventh grade). She said the site helped her maintain a link with her friend."I'll never forget about her, but sometimes I start to forget what she looks like, so I just go on her page to look at her."

out of fear.

We stay together out of fear.

Kicking and Screaming
Noah Baumbach

I just don't know what I'm supposed to be

"The more you know who you are and what you want, the less you let things upset you."

Lost In Translation

The True New Yorker

The true New Yorker secretly believes that people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding.

John Updike

Running On Empty - Robert Phillips

As a teenager I would drive Father’s
Chevrolet cross-country, given me

reluctantly: “Always keep the tank
half full, boy, half full, ya hear?”

The fuel gage dipping, dipping
toward Empty, hitting Empty, then

-thrilling!-‘way below Empty,
myself driving cross-country

mile after mile, faster and faster,
all night long, this crazy kid driving

the earth’s rolling surface,
against all laws. Defying chemistry,

rules, and time, riding on nothing
but fumes, pushing luck harder

than anyone pushed before, the wind
screaming past like the Furies…

I stranded myself only once, a white
night with no gas station open, ninety miles

from nowhere. Panicked for awhile
at standstill, myself stalled.

At dawn the car and I both refilled. But,
Father, I am running on empty still.

Running On Empty
Robert Phillips

The Poetry - Gustav Klimt

With a passion for us we could not return?

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total darkness sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

The More Loving One
W.H. Auden

like a man who was content

Donna looked Checkers over. He was holding his beer and watching Donna like a man who was content to hold a beer and watch a woman.

Kissing In Manhattan
David Schickler

THE ACT - William Carlos Williams

There were the roses, in the rain.
Don’t cut them, I pleaded.
                They won’t last, she said.
But they are so beautiful
                where they are.
Agh, we were all beautiful once, she
                said,
and cut them, and gave them to me
                in my hand.

THE ACT
William Carlos Williams

Almost Perfect - Shel Silverstein

"Almost perfect... but not quite."
Those were the words of Mary Hume
At her seventh birthday party,
Looking 'round the ribboned room.
"This tablecloth is pink not white--
Almost perfect... but not quite."

"Almost perfect... but not quite."
Those were the words of grown-up Mary
Talking about her handsome beau,
The one she wasn't gonna marry.
"Squeezes me a bit too tight--
Almost perfect... but not quite."

"Almost perfect... but not quite."
Those were the words of ol' Miss Hume
Teaching in the seventh grade,
Grading papers in the gloom
Late at night up in her room.
"They never cross their t's just right--
Almost perfect... but not quite."

Ninety-eight the day she died
Complainin' 'bout the spotless floor.
People shook their heads and sighed,
"Guess that she'll like heaven more."
Up went her soul on feathered wings,
Out the door, up out of sight.
Another voice from heaven came--
"Almost perfect... but not quite."

Almost Perfect
Shel Silverstein

To the end

She broke the connection between their eyes just long enough to look down and find her glass and then raise it from the table. It was empty except for ice and a cherry but that didn’t matter. He raised his glass in return, maybe one swallow of beer and foam left in it.

“To the end,” she said.

He smiled and nodded. He loved her and she knew it.

“To the end,” he began and then paused. “To the place where the desert is ocean.”

She smiled back as they touched glasses. She raised hers to her lips and the cherry rolled into her mouth. She looked at him suggestively as he wiped the beer foam out of his mustache. She loved him. It was them against the whole fucking world and she liked their chances just fine.

Void Moon
Michael Connelly

To a Stranger - Walt Whitman

Passing stranger! you do not know
How longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking,
Or she I was seeking
(It comes to me as a dream)

I have somewhere surely
Lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we flit by each other,
Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,

You grew up with me,
Were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become
not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes,
face, flesh as we pass,
You take of my beard, breast, hands,
in return,

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.


To a Stranger
Walt Whitman

The Anatomy of Melancholy

…wars, fires, plagues have not done that mischief to mankind as this burning lust, this brutish passion.

The Anatomy of Melancholy [exceprt]
Robert Burton

I loved you - Alexander Pushkin

I loved you, and I probably still do,
And for a while the feeling may remain...
But let my love no longer trouble you,
I do not wish to cause you any pain.
I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew,
The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain -
Made up a love so tender and so true
As may God grant you to be loved again.


I loved you
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

The Lighthouse at Two Lights

Lo. Lee. Ta.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.

She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Lolita
Vladimir Nabokov

New York Movie

Edward Hopper

asking girls out

The truth was, even the wimpiest boys were more adept than Trip at asking girls out, because their sparrows’ chests and knock-knees had taught them perseverance, whereas Trip had never even had to dial a girl’s phone number. It was all new to him: the memorization of strategic speeches, the trial runs of possible conversations, the yogic deep breathing, all leading up to the blind, headlong dive into the staticky sea of telephone lines. He hadn’t suffered the eternity of the ring about to be picked up, didn’t know the heart rush of hearing that incomparable voice suddenly linked with his own the sense it gave of being too close to even see her, of actually being inside her ear. He had never felt the pain of lackluster responses, the dread of “Oh…hi,” or the quick annihilation of “Who?” His beauty had left him without cunning.

The Virgin Suicides
Jeffrey Eugenides

Flying - Mary Oliver

Sometimes,
on a plane,
you see a stranger.
He is so beautiful!
His nose
Going down in the
old Greek way,
or his smile
a wild Mexican fiesta.
You want to say:
do you know how beautiful you are?
You leap up
into the aisle,
you can’t let him go
until he has touched you
shyly, until you have rubbed him,
oh, lightly,
like a coin
you find on the earth somewhere
shining and unexpected and,
without thinking,
reach for. You stand there
shaken
by the strangeness,
the splash of his touch.
When he’s gone
you stare like an animal into
the blinding clouds
with the snapped chain of your life,
the life you know:
the deeply affectionate earth,
the familiar landscapes
slowly turning
thousands of feet below.

FLYING
Mary Oliver

Variations on the Word Sleep [excerpt] - Magaret Atwood

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

Variation on the Word Sleep [excerpt]
Magaret Atwood

The Journey - Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations –
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

The Journey
Mary Oliver

good again.

There is a way to be good again.

The Kite Runner
Khaled Hosseini