“Simplicity is the final achievement. After one has played a vast quantity of notes and more notes, it is simplicity that emerges as the crowning reward of art.”—Frédéric Chopin (via fckyeaharthistory)
Is there a possibility of viewing your works, writings, paintings?
Yes! Most of what I post on tumblr consists of working drafts and excerpts, as it takes numerous revisions until I feel personally satisfied with a writing. With that said, I have quite a few writings/poems completed, typed, and ready to view (though no paintings at this point……). If you’re interested in reading, please message me with a way of getting them to you (i.e. drop-box, email address, etc) as I keep them in document form.
Depression is humiliating. It turns intelligent, kind people into zombies who can’t wash a dish or change their socks. It affects the ability to think clearly, to feel anything, to ascribe value to your children, your lifelong passions, your relative good fortune. It scoops out your normal…
I awakened on the comfort couch. Sunlight gave my skin the gradual buffet treatment. The bridge-testers, groggy, formerly gorging like Sunday, they were quite absent by this time. I grew hungry, brushed my teeth, cactus bristles, washed, and combed my wild hair. By now, hungry was around 6 to 10 inches, tall, I left for the town of New Bridge. Iron played a warbled set on this bridge I thought, wading through the river. There was no time to mind the leeches of Jersey, My hunger was getting taller and taller, I WAS hurry.
Diner we had here. So my favorite finger (Jackie) skated the brimming coffee mug, as waitress S K Y told me Travelers Checks can’t pay for 2wice baked mac’ n cheese here.
Y-earning? Isn’t that it? I ask her
She looks dutifully at my coffee and sez “Yuh can only brim for so long before grace of gravity spills ya”, and that no, my answer was the wrong. Below, my wallet is screaming the answers to life, muffled through the shuffled kazoo of dead presidents.
What life doesn’t know is that I got a leg up, a list from God: HOW TO BEAT THE APOCALYPSE: A SHOPPING LIST
10 jet black dogma candles future wrapped in portable cellophane
2 bottles of rapid glacier melter: industrial strength
3 bottles of liquid maudlin (40 % ABV) for the kids/teens
Pewter-capped wisdom teeth: Ignorant size (14)
De-boned jellyfish, declawed of their purple (5)
Two standards of excellence, personal and society sized
6 Nobel Prize winnin’ Scientists (for poppin’ the world’s pimples)
The 2 layrs of pallor puddles about the ground shudder under the sun.
It is their respective recesses that allows the 12 oddsome petals of sprite anticipation to gauge their jump point: they misread it all. Rife, they end up in the drowning ale of fermented crowdclouds, 12 bullets in an inky vest of Kevlar.
Round said puddle rinds the mind of it: the spirit corpse of slight hill found decreasing under the weight of time, time infantile and infant and infinite. Like an infant. Except: infertile.
Despite perspicacity of said puddle, there exists a dull wave of signaled gloss abound, and I hear the train of some feet comin’ hopin children find that in the nothingness they will soon know there are around 12 oddsome petals to grab onto forever. They will never leave. They are always going to be pearlescent, slightly milky with the advent of age.
1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
2. I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.
3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.
- Top five regrets of the dying [via The Guardian]
Bronnie Ware is an Australian nurse who spent several years working in palliative care, caring for patients in the last 12 weeks of their lives. She recorded their dying epiphanies in a blog called Inspiration and Chai, which gathered so much attention that she put her observations into a book called The Top Five Regrets of the Dying.