xtina phone

make_me_stay


Ava Maria

Misadventures In Suburban Bus Travel


(no subject)
xtina phone
make_me_stay
I'm on a boat!

That's me.
My journal is friends-only.

I talk a lot about food, and books, and I post a lot of photos.

I don't bite.

(no subject)
xtina phone
make_me_stay
It no longer makes me cry and die and tear myself to see her go because everything goes away from me like that now — girls, visions, anything, just in the same way and forever and I accept lostness forever.
- Visions of Cody, Jack Kerouac

From Paulo Coelho
xtina phone
make_me_stay
20 SEC READING: Measuring love
by PAULO COELHO on NOVEMBER 19, 2011


‘I’ve always wanted to know if I was capable of loving my wife as much as you love yours,’ said the journalist Keichiro to my publisher Satoshi Gungi over supper one night.

‘There is nothing else but love,’ came the reply. ‘It is love that keeps the world turning and the stars in their spheres.’

‘I know. But how can I know if my love is big enough?’

‘Ask yourself if you give yourself fully or if you flee from your emotions, but do not ask yourself if your love is big enough, because love is neither big nor small, it is simply love.
‘You cannot measure a feeling the way you measure a road.
‘If you do that, you will start comparing your love with what others tell you of theirs or with your own expectations of love.
‘That way, you will always be listening to some story, rather than pushing your emotions to their limits.’

(no subject)
xtina phone
make_me_stay
"It always embarassed Samuel Vimes when civilans tried to speak to him in what they thought was 'policeman'. If it came to that, he hated thinking of them as civilians. What was a policeman, if not a civilian with a uniform and a badge? But they tended to use the term these days as a way of describing people who were not policemen. It was a dangerous habit: once policemen stopped being civilians the only other thing they could be was soldiers."

- Snuff, Terry Pratchett

The Quiet World | Jeffrey McDaniel
xtina phone
make_me_stay
The Quiet World | Jeffrey McDaniel

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it
to my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
at chicken noodle soup. I am
adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long
distance lover and proudly say
I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond, I know
she’s used up all her words
so I slowly whisper I love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

Journals of Sylvia Plath
xtina phone
make_me_stay
Why is it that I find it so difficult to accept the present moment, whole as an apple, without cutting and hacking at it to find a purpose, or setting it up on a shelf with other apples to measure its worth or trying to pickle it in brine to preserve it, and crying to find it turns all brown and is no longer simply the lovely apple I was given in the morning?

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything it is because we are dangerously near to wanting nothing. There are two opposing poles of wanting nothing: when one is so full and rich and has so many inner worlds that the outer world is not necessary for joy, because joy emanates from the inner core of one's being. When one is dead and rotten inside and there is nothing in the world: not all the woman, food, sun, or mind-magic of others that can reach the wormy core of one's gutted soul planet.
p193



It is as if both of us, wary of oysters so rich and potent and at once digestively dangerous as they are, should agree to each swallow an oyster (our prospective mate) tied to a string (our reserve about committing ourselves). Then, if either or both of us found the oyster disagreeing with our respective digestive systems, we could yank up the oyster before it was too late, and completely assimilated in all its destructive portent (with marriage). Sure, there might be a little nausea, a little regret, but the poisoning, corrosive, final, destructive, would not have had a chance to set in. And there we are: two scared, attractive, intelligent, dangerous, hedonistic, 'clever' people.
p108

Nausea, Sartre
xtina phone
make_me_stay
Something is beginning in order to end: adventure does not let itself be drawn out; it only makes sense when dead. I am drawn, irrevocably, towards this death which is perhaps mine as well. Each instant appears only as a part of a sequence. I cling to each instant with all my heart: I know that it is unique, irreplaceable - and yet I woudl not raise a finger to stop it from being annihilated. This last moment I am spending - in Berlin, in London - in the arms of a woman casually met two days ago - monent I love passionately, woman I may adore - all is going to end, I know it. Soon I shall leave for another country. I shall never rediscover either this woman or this night. I grasp at each second, trying to suck it dry: nothing happens which I do not seize, which I do not fix forever in myself, nothing, neither the fugitive tenderness of those lovely eyes, nor the noises of the street, nor the false dawn of early morning: and even so the minute passes and I do not hold back, I like to see it pass. p55

I wanted the moments of my life to follow and order themselves like those of a life remembered. You might as well try and catch time by the tail. p58

Perhaps there is nothing in the world I cling to as much as this feeling of adventure; but it comes when it pleases; it is gone so quickly and how empty I am once it has left. Does it, ironically, pay me these short visits in order to show me that I have wasted my life? p78


Nausea, Sartre

(no subject)
xtina phone
make_me_stay
Shiva pretenders


I realised today that this year has been

seriously

damn

awesome



and I don't know why it took me so long to realise. Foolish girl.

I have done so many amazing things and met so many amazing people and have seen so many beautiful things and I've changed so unbelievably much. It's all about the learning, isn't it.

Are you happy?

(no subject)
xtina phone
make_me_stay
If I were to wish for anything I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of what can be, for the eye, which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible. Pleasure disappoints, possibility never.

— Soren Kierkegaard, Either/Or

(no subject)
xtina phone
make_me_stay
"In the end, the experiences we had together, and the memories that then formed, those didn't matter. Instead, it was the absence of memory that defined our togetherness, the things we never did together: we never kissed in the rain; we tried once, but it was only drizzling. We never spent the night together as teenagers, there never came a weekend when parents went out of town. We never had dancing lessons or took a summer art class together. Those gaps in memory are what give birth to loneliness, when all you can remember are all the things you did not do, things you only read in books or saw in movies, superimposing your faces onto perfectly framed bodies.

That is love, when you only wish you had done more. It's almost as though you feel you are forgetting something, you are forgetting that there is nothing to forget. It is something the opposite of amnesia. We are all scrambling to recover memories of lives we never led.

The list goes on: we never made love in a hotel in South Carolina.
We never visited the Smithsonian.
We never held hands and watched fireworks on the Fourth of July.

We never, we never, we never."



Bernard Hitch, 67. Excerpt from "True Accounts of Love and Loss as Reported by Bethany Bailey, Special to the Tribune."


Cheerful content to resume presently. Promise.

?

Log in