in bed with Samuel Clemens

há um desequilíbrio entre os livros, sempre ao final do dia.

And to me it is one of the most odious things in a girl's life, that there must always be some supposition of falling in love coming between her and any man who is kind to her, and to whom she is grateful. I should have thought that I, at least, might have been safe from all that. I have no ground for the nonsensical vanity of fancying everybody who comes near me is in love with me. *

Middlemarch, George Eliot

* shamelessly stolen from Michelle

'cause I wouldn't mind

a little romance

there are so many tictoc
clocks everywhere telling people
what toctic time it is for
tictic instance five toc minutes toc
past six tic
Spring is not regulated and does
not get out of order nor do
its hands a little jerking move
over numbers slowly
                                we do not
wind it up it has no weights
spring wheels inside of
its slender self no indeed dear
nothing of the kind.
(So, when kiss Spring comes
we'll kiss each other on kiss the kiss
lips because tic clocks toc don't make
a toctic difference
to kisskiss you and to
kiss me) 

e e cuummings

there we were holding hands
singing through the hole in the ceiling

into the heavens

I'm in your church at night

the pleasures and sorrows of work #2

today I sold a couple of Žižek's books to Žižek himself.

the pleasures and sorrows of work #1

hoje vendi um Lucio's Confession. e nem fui eu que recomendei.

hey joana, what's up?

paris. active child. persephone books. kate kanzier shoes. creedence clearwater revival. hot weather. my dad. sartre and de beauvoir. foxes and cats. council tax. the new topographics. black.

And after all the weather was ideal. They could not have had a more perfect day for a garden-party if they had ordered it.

The Garden-Party, Katherine Mansfield

you get so alone at times that it just makes sense

well if you want to know me, I'm a war

unfortunate coincidence

by the time you swear you're his,
shivering and sighing,
and he vows his passion is
infinite, undying-
lady, make a note of this:
one of you is lying.

dorothy parker, «enough rope», the penguin dorothy parker

h o m e