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Things I like, or write, mostly.

    "Elizabeth Bishop only ever wrote one poem, a villanelle about an elk breaking up with her (“The Elk Breaks Up with Me”), and if I may say so she did very well with it."
    — 1 day ago
    Odysseus Amongst the Swine Glances Towards Ithaca

    Sometimes my flailing
    burnt-by-the wind heart
    grows alarmed and pushes
    my sentiments aside
    and in their place
    grow lists enumerating
    ostrich feathers and tin-can
    telephones to encode
    the ratification of love.

    The only way to touch
    a poem is with the mouth.
    I put this one in yours
    and yours in mine
    and for a moment
    the lonely air between
    us is filled with birds, leaves
    and contrails underlining
    the honest sun
    under which I fail
    to embrace you,

    but don’t worry, that is
    all my poems are doing
    these days. Know that
    although my words
    often overwhelm me
    and I grow unable to manage
    their winds, the only ships
    in my heart that are listing
    are listing towards your shores.

    Dan Chelotti

    — 2 weeks ago
    A Secret Station, by David Gates : The New Yorker →

    She put on the turn signal. “So who would have thought. No wonder we get along so well. Both galloping bisexuals.”

    “Hardly that,” he said. “Unless you mean off into the sunset.”

    She pulled into the parking lot, and began prowling for a space. “Now I’m supposed to tell you you’re not old,” she said. “Aren’t we tired of this dance?” She glanced over at the white-and-red Staples store. “You know, it used to be that all I had to do was see that logo and I’d feel myself blushing.”

    “That’s a lovely stage,” he said.

    “Stage,” she said. “That’s a lovely word.”

    David fucking Gates.

    — 2 weeks ago
    #fiction  #david gates  #new yorker 
    ITCH - Narcosis →

    A short story/thing I wrote, trying to be all fancy and metatextual and accidentally spelling ‘Zeno’ as ‘Xeno’ and not getting picked up by the copyeditors. 

    — 2 weeks ago with 1 note
    #fiction  #narcissus  #a thing what i wrote →


    thefacci tagged me and only because i love her so deeply do i accept.

    Rules: In a text post, list ten books that have stayed with you in some way. Don’t take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard — they don’t have to be the “right” or “great” works, just ones that have touched you.


    Not that this needed replying to, but I couldn’t form a list offhand, and it was bugging me kind of persistently, so eventually I tried to get it down and - honestly I think the blockage was a reluctance to admit that my big ones were fairly canonical/white/male/English-speaking. Or at least the ones whose impact I’m most conscious of?

    1. Jorge Luis Borges - Labyrinths
    2. Ursula Le Guin - The Earthsea Cycle
    3. Jeanette Winterson - Sexing The Cherry
    4. Raymond Chandler - The Long Goodbye
    5. David Gates - The Wonders of the Invisible World
    6. Mikhail Bulgakov - The Master and Margarita
    7. Dorothy Parker - The Collected Dorothy Parker
    8. Alain Robbe-Grillet - The Erasers
    9. Jonathan Fowles - The Magus
    10. Jonathan Carrol - The Land of Laughs.

    …but jeeze. Gaiman! Pratchett! Adichie, Auden, Beckett, Byrne, Camus, Chatwin, Diaz, Eliot, Eliott, Foster-Wallace, Gibson, Hardwick, Jansson, Kipling, Lethem, and fucking on forever.

    — 2 weeks ago with 5 notes

Anon hate from the late 1800’s.


    Anon hate from the late 1800’s.

    (via fantomas-en-cavale)

    — 2 weeks ago with 39496 notes