bbook:

Life.

every day i thank an object or an animal or a person i enjoy for the existence of frasier. 

•  24 April 2013  •  91 notes

•  23 April 2013  •  2 notes

annotations:

Bonnie “Prince” Billy - Hard Life

“God makes you live”

•  22 April 2013  •  11 notes

Mud Luscious Press shuttered its doors very suddenly and sadly just as the forty millionth fucktonsnowstorm started fucksnowing outside my window. I am grading papers and listening to a Fleetwood Mac record. I am thinking of the 3rd years in my cohort who turned in all their great thesis work today. I am fixing tiny errors and moving little stuff very quietly inside my cows before I send off my final, final edits to Magic Helicopter tonight. It’s bruising to hear Russ has lost his book on the night I feel like my chapbook is one step closer to being actually real. All I did at AWP was take drinks of whiskey and then cry happiness. I also kept saying, “I am so afraid it’s going to be taken away from me somehow.” To know that that has actually happened to another writer, much less one who I have been collaborating poems with for over a year, who has been hugely important to my poetry being any kind of smidgen of visible in this dumb, shitty world, is rib breaking. 

It’s sad because MLP is one of the first presses I ever really understood as being this small press that was DOING IT, that was publishing the exciting writers they really believed could show us something about Livinglanguage with that capital L. (Sasha Fletcher’s book all our days were numbered… was one of the first poetry books I ordered on my own. I bought it with My Zorba by Danielle Pafunda and The Mansuit by Zach Schomburg from SPD.) It’s sad because somewhere another boring writer perpetuating the ever sturdy status quo of craft and holygeezlessonslearned is accepting a grant with a handshake or a hearty slap on the blazer. His book will be recommended by the staff next year at the B & N. There’s a place for such writing. I’m not against its existence, but sometimes I am incredibly stricken with the fear I will never write anything that will be the kind of writing institutions feel comfortable funding or HELPING. I’m afraid of WHAT WILL BE LOST if things continue as they are, which I’m sure they will more or less. I’m a little paralyzed by the thought of what I could do or should do to be trying to ignite a little change, some support for the other writers who help me live through the burning daydaze. 

Earlier this year, after someone in my workshop class called my poems exhausting to the point that she couldn’t get through them, I wept into a beer and told my ex boyfriend about how it was all I could do not to panic attack right then as I looked around the room and realized I probably wasn’t ever going to make a living doing this or be seen as anything much beyond weird and difficult (aka hostile, yo.). I’m not sure I’m articulating this very well. Earning bucks doesn’t matter much, but I think also sometimes things like that are going to sting their way into you because you’re going to have to find a fucking way, and it’s….tiring. It’s tiring when the necessary energy of others is squashed in a way that seems unnecessary. I’m also saying all this after last Tuesday was made up of frustratedbeer and agatheringofthewitches party with E re: our lack of summer funding. (About 4 out of the 36 in the MFA program get the $ from the creawrit dept. one would need to survive a summer here on no income.) 

It would be nice if you were a little softer here and there, world. I’m sure it won’t be long, actually, before you show me a good spot again. I hope it involves a tree and Brandon Shimoda’s new book. I hope it involves me putting some of my friends’ books on my syllabus for my Intro to Poetry class. But I don’t know. You get my long hair lengthening sighs tonight, world. It would be nice if writing and writers could be allowed to be as diverse as they are with their trying. Does that make sense? I know a lot of our persistent, roach-like trying is what makes us such a secret zombie partyforce, but it would be nice if the battle didn’t lots of the time seem so slippery and spiked with ice darkness. 

Go buy out the rest of MLP’s stock here. Go show them your love everywhere. 

•  22 April 2013  •  28 notes

whatmountains:

lushmilk:

shred-head:

bearsarebeasts:

cleophatrajones:

ladylion:

futurebatgirl:

thelaughingmango:

this gif goes with every song

Just tested this with a Mumford and Sons song.

Damn, it’s true

I tried it with Pon Pon Pon and it worked…

This is the gif of life-period.

Every. Song. My god

it goes perfect with everything im in shock

Just tried this with: Sufjan Stevens Pixies Stars of the Lid Edith Piaf New Pornographers Pablo Casals playing Chopin Ryoji Ikeda Miley Cyrus Jacques Brel Mozart’s requiem Ride of the valkyries Slayer The Shaggs Bukka white Nico Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music Perry Como 2001 A Space Odyssey Theme Lament of siamedes (ancient greek music) Gregorian chanting Sunny day real estate Otis redding Volun Woostion (evansville shitbass) Barry Manilow Liberace Nofx Dashboard Confessional Merzbow Nurse with wound THEY ALL WORK

(Source: oooooo-wee)

•  22 April 2013  •  151,156 notes

(Source: Spotify)

•  20 April 2013  •  3 notes

so smart - indoor voices 

•  19 April 2013  •  2 notes

“Sometimes I realize that what I’m in the middle of saying is boring, so I just stop talking. Art that unfolds over time gives me less pleasure than art that stops it. Even if it is an odd sort of present, I thank my father and mother for having given me life.”

— Édouard Levé, “When I Look at a Strawberry, I Think of a Tongue” (via elisabethworkman)

•  19 April 2013  •  11 notes

markcugini:

Thank god.

poetswithoutclothes:

Sampson Starkweather 

•  19 April 2013  •  20 notes

(Source: Spotify)

•  19 April 2013  •  1 note