The litany against fear from Dune, adapted to fit my situation

litany against fear

I must not online-shop.

Online shopping is the mind-killer.

Online shopping is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my compulsion to online-shop.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Where the compulsion to online-shop has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Antique book poem by Emily Dickinson

I was going to post a poem I came across while reading my old book of Emily Dickinson's poetry, but another Blogspot posted it and wrote (or shared) a commentary on the poem. I encourage you to read it here:

http://bloggingdickinson.blogspot.com/2014/12/a-precious-mouldering-pleasure-tis.html

 

Side note: I remember buying my copy of Emily Dickinson's poems from the Scholastic Book Fair when I was in elementary school, like I specifically have the distinct memory of being 7 or 8 or 9 at the Scholastic Book Fair and browsing the shelves, being drawn to Emily's face and picking the book up, but I just checked the copyright page and this is a small paperback from 2002. I was in the ninth grade in 2002; perhaps because I was homeschooled that year, I was able to go to my younger siblings' SBF and buy the book then? I have no memory of that, but I definitely would have gone then. I'd go today. I miss the SBF.

The Bookstall

Just looking at them
I grow greedy, as if they were
freshly baked loaves
waiting on their shelves
to be broken open—that one
and that—and I make my choice
in a mood of exalted luck,
browsing among them
like a cow in sweetest pasture.

For life is continuous
as long as they wait
to be read—these inked paths
opening into the future, page
after page, every book
its own receding horizon.
And I hold them, one in each hand,
a curious ballast weighting me
here to the earth.

~ Linda Pastan, Carnival Evening

Catch-up Book Reviews

For Pride month I picked up the copy of Sappho that I'd found in a thrift store: The Love Songs of Sappho, translated by Paul Roche. Roche has both an introduction and translation notes in the back of the book, which were wordy and long and talked about the difficulties of translating poetry and how he tried to capture not just what she was saying but how she said it, the lightness and music of her songs. However, he chose to translate the famous "sweet mother I cannot weave" poem/fragment 102 as the speaker (Sappho herself?) longing for "a stripling lad". Ex-fucking-cuse me??? For that shameless bit of straightwashing he is dead to me, and I'm fistfighting him in hell. 3.5 stars, selling or giving away.  TW for suicide mention in the introduction

I bought The Bookshop of Second Chances by Jackie Fraser at The Book Loft in Columbus, OH. Such a wonderful bookshop; you could literally be lost in it for hours. You can read the book summary here. I read this book in the airport and on the plane, twice (I wasn't able to read much while visiting my sister; her boys are a handful). It was just the right kind of read for a vacation; it's interesting and fun and mostly lighthearted, and even a bit cozy at times. The book is told from Thea's point of view, and you see her fall in love with the small Scottish village she moves to and her Grumpy™ bookseller boss. I couldn't help but see him as David Tennant (who is also Scottish and great at playing grumpy), which meant I started seeing Olivia Coleman as Thea. This would be such a great chick flick. The tropes are there in this book (Edward is jealous of every man Thea talks to when they're just friends), but they're handled differently. There's also nuanced handling of Thea's and Edward's traumas as they start to build a relationship. They're both in their mid-forties, which helps ground the book. I enjoyed this and would recommend it to anyone who likes modern-day romance novels with a bit of depth. I only wish we saw more of the house remodeling! I love that sort of thing. 3.5 stars (affectionate), 3/5 chilies, tentatively keeping. Aesthetics moodboard  TW for infidelity, physical fighting, grief, some possessiveness, vomiting mention, man shuts woman in a room with him (he doesn't hurt her but yikes), blood mentions

 

Netflix finally made a Nimona movie! I loved it a lot, which is unsurprising considering I was a fan of the book and read it back when it was an online webcomic, ages ago. Naturally, I reread Nimona by N.D. Stevenson. I was pleasantly surprised to see what little details and scenes made it into the movie, such as the not-Monopoly scene. It's such a good graphic novel and I really recommend it. I recommend the movie as well. 4 stars, permanent collection. Aesthetics moodboard  TW for murder, torture, violence, limb (arm) loss, explosions, experimentation on sentient living being, electric shocks, othering

Book Review: Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz

Uncharacteristically, I bought this book at full price from the McNally-Jackson branch inside the LaGuardia airport before flying out of New York (I had been visiting my sister and her family). Yes characteristically, I did not read it right away as planned, and it sat around in my house and various bookshelves before I finally read it at the end of April. Back of book summary:

Postcolonial Love Poem is an anthem of desire against erasure. Natalie Diaz’s brilliant second collection demands that every body carried in its pages—bodies of language, land, rivers, suffering brothers, enemies, and lovers—be touched and held as beloveds. Through these poems, the wounds inflicted by America onto an indigenous people are allowed to bloom pleasure and tenderness: “Let me call my anxiety, desire, then. / Let me call it, a garden.” In this new lyrical landscape, the bodies of indigenous, Latinx, black, and brown women are simultaneously the body politic and the body ecstatic. In claiming this autonomy of desire, language is pushed to its dark edges, the astonishing dunefields and forests where pleasure and love are both grief and joy, violence and sensuality.

Diaz defies the conditions from which she writes, a nation whose creation predicated the diminishment and ultimate erasure of bodies like hers and the people she loves: “I am doing my best to not become a museum / of myself. I am doing my best to breathe in and out. // I am begging: Let me be lonely but not invisible.” Postcolonial Love Poem unravels notions of American goodness and creates something more powerful than hope—in it, a future is built, future being a matrix of the choices we make now, and in these poems, Diaz chooses love.

This book won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry, and wow I can see why. I had already read a couple of the poems that had been shared on tumblr, and I loved her writing. She's so so good: passionate and angry and grieving and heartfelt and poetic and in love; a master of her craft. This is a short book, but I had to put it away for a couple of days instead of reading it in one sitting because it's so intense. It will stay with me for a long time. In a classic "oh, Michelle" I don't know what I expected given the title way, I was somewhat surprised by the sheer amount of explicit poems about e*ting a woman 0ut in the most poetic, beautiful language. Every couple of poems it was like, oh another one, godspeed Natalie. Although this does raise a point I've read before: we always expect women's poetry to be purely autobiographical, while allowing men to be seen as artists who write whatever they want and are respected. It may very well be that these poems aren't all strictly autobiographical. They all feel deeply personal, though, regardless of whether or not they actually happened in real life. 

Anyway, I loved this and recommend it highly, although of course the poems are often difficult to read (some topics covered include missing & murdered indigenous women, water protestors, America's anti-indigenous history and mentality, etc.). Themes I kept seeing: green, bulls/horns, the land/desert, rivers/water...

Score: 5 out of 5 stars
Read in: April 28-May 2
From: McNally-Jackson, LaGuardia airport branch
Status: keep

Cover notes: The cover features Natalie Diaz herself. She appears to be obscuring her face with her hand, but if you keep looking you'll see one of her eyes peeking out, locked directly on the viewer. Both obscured/hidden and watching. She appears to be wearing indigenous jewelry. I think the cover goes well with the tone of the poetry.

Trigger warnings for this book: missing & murdered indigenous women mentions, suicide mention, drugs and alcohol abuse mentions, anti-indigenous racism (systemic and internalized), violence mentions, police brutality (including towards elders), mental illness mentions, explicit poetic sex act descriptions

The Sleepless Grape

 Like any ready fruit, I woke
falling toward beginning and
welcome, all of night
the only safe place.
Spoken for, I knew
a near hand would meet me
everywhere I heard my name
and the stillness ripening
around it. I found my inborn minutes
decreed, my death appointed
and appointing. And singing
gathers the earth
about my rest,
making of my heart a way home
the stars hold open.            

 

~Li-young Lee, from Water Stone

Wait Without Hope by T.S. Eliot

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

T. S. Eliot, East Coker

January 2017 books

The first book I read and finished this year was Debating Disney: Pedagogical Perspectives on Commercial Cinema, which was a series of essays about Disney films under different lens (feminism, race, gay or Semitic stereotyping, etc.) It was interesting but somewhat dry as it is an academic work, but I would recommend it if you like analyzing Disney movies and can stomach reading academia. In my notes I had put that some facts were incorrect, but I didn’t put what so now I don’t remember. This was a library book. I may have skimmed this a bit, rather than reading every essay (early January, 3.9/5 stars)

I actually read a lot of library books since mine were packed up in boxes until a few weeks ago. The next one I read was In the Open Hand: Sonnets from the Californian, which is a book of poetry by a faculty member at the university where I work. It was pretty good but the reading experience was marred somewhat by the fact that I met him and it’s kind of awkward reading love poems by someone you’ve personally met. Not his fault; the writing style was quite good. (early January, 3.5/5 stars)

C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity: A Biography is exactly that: the biography of a book. How meta is that? It went over the circumstances leading up to Mere Christianity being written, such as WWII and C.S. Lewis’s radio talks, as well as its reception and influence. This would be a great resource for someone wanting to write a book report on MC, or any other CSL megafan. I think I kinda skimmed this one towards the end as it is scholarly and dry. (mid-January, 4/5)

Later that month I went to my achilles’ heel, the thrift store, and bought several more books. Among them was a TV spinoff book, The Douche Journals, Volume 1: The Definitive Account of One Man's Genius. Basically the book is written as if it’s Schmidt from New Girl’s journal where he writes down every “clever” thing that caused him to be made to put money in the douchebag jar. It was just as crude and hilarious as I expected. (mid-January, 3.4/5)

I also acquired The Code of the Woosters at the thrift store, to my delight. These are laugh-out-loud funny, and I’m going to try to buy them all. I had seen parts of it from a BBC Jeeves and Wooster episode, but it was still hilarious.(mid-January, 4/5)

Also from the thrift store came The Mysterious Affair at Styles, my first Agatha Christie. I liked Hercule Poirot and the mystery was quite interesting, but I pretty much hated the narrator. He kept falling in love with every attractive woman and girl he saw, regardless of whether they were married or appropriate for him to date, then pouted when they didn’t like him back. His thoughts about the women were unnecessary and detracted from the story. I would have liked to know more of Poirot rather than that bimbo. I did like the story, but I won’t be keeping this one. (mid-January, 3.5/5)

Continuing my Artemis Fowl series reread, I read the fourth book, The Opal Deception. This one may have the most suspenseful plot of the series, and it pretty much held up reread-wise. (mid-January, 4/5)

My next library read was Youth and Sexuality in the Twentieth Century United States, which is a well-researched yet readable scholarly work. It was very interesting and showed that adolescence wasn’t as squeaky clean in the past as your grandparents would have you think (premarital sex was pretty common, for instance). The most interesting thing I learned was that children under 15 or so were expected to not be interested in the opposite sex at all, but in the same sex! Same-sex crushes were completely expected and seen as normal in older children and young teens. (lateish January, 4/5)

I was going to do a trimester-type post of my Jan-Mar books, but since I read so much in January, this is just for that month. That's why this post is so late.

"Music" by Anne Porter

When I was a child
I once sat sobbing on the floor
Beside my mother’s piano
As she played and sang
For there was in her singing
A shy yet solemn glory
My smallness could not hold

And when I was asked
Why I was crying
I had no words for it
I only shook my head
And went on crying

Why is it that music
At its most beautiful
Opens a wound in us
An ache a desolation
Deep as a homesickness
For some far-off
And half-forgotten country

I’ve never understood
Why this is so

But there’s an ancient legend
From the other side of the world
That gives away the secret
Of this mysterious sorrow

For centuries on centuries
We have been wandering
But we were made for Paradise
As deer for the forest

And when music comes to us
With its heavenly beauty
It brings us desolation
For when we hear it
We half remember
That lost native country

We dimly remember the fields
Their fragrant windswept clover
The birdsongs in the orchards
The wild white violets in the moss
By the transparent streams

And shining at the heart of it
Is the longed-for beauty
Of the One who waits for us
Who will always wait for us
In those radiant meadows

Yet also came to live with us
And wanders where we wander.

July-September 2016 books

I reread Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer. Classic.

My bookclub read Why Not Me? by Mindy Kaling for July. It was a reread for me (I bought it from Barnes & Noble when it came out). Love her.

I read an online ebook called The Dark Wife by Sarah Diemer. It's available for free online and is a retelling of the Hades & Persephone myth. Kind of creepy, scary, violent, and really good. Trigger warning for rape. 4/5

I read all of the Wonder Woman comics series by Brian Azzarello and Cliff Chiang: Blood, Guts, Iron, War, Flesh, and Bones. The premise is, what if Wonder Woman's father was Zeus? Zeus disappears and the other gods and goddesses fight for his throne, and WW must band together with all of Zeus' other illegitimate offspring to save the last of Zeus' line. I love WW and I love Greek mythology, so I loved this series. The art is amazing and the storytelling is fascinating.  4/5

Guardians, Inc.: The Cypher by Julian Rosado Machain is a Kindle book I got for free from Amazon. It's about a teenage orphan boy who is drafted into a mysterious and shadowy organization then gets pulled into a fantastical conspiracy, finds out he is Special and has to save the world. You get it. Anyway this sounded like it had promise, but the writing quality was just not there, and the main character was very Gary Stu-ish. The characters were pretty flat (Grandpa and the principal were the most interesting and well-developed), and I just didn't feel invested in them or the story. It raced along at a too-fast pace and spent too much time on the boring and fake romance when I wanted to learn more about Guardians, Inc. and its Library. My least favorite thing was that this teenage boy who hasn't even finished high school is hired by this company to be an Assistant Librarian, which entails getting and checking out books to the Library's mysterious patrons. You have to have an MLIS/MLS degree to be a full-fledged librarian, and in order to be an assistant librarian, you'd have to have at least some college coursework in library science and a good amount of library experience under your belt, none of which the protagonist has. There are monsters and fauns (hoo boy, the dumbest, least accurate fauns I've ever heard of) and living gargoyles, but I could not believe or forgive this falsehood. There are sequels (OF COURSE, God forbid anyone ever write a standalone fantasy book for kids anymore) but I won't read them unless they end up being free on Amazon as well. Could have used a better editor, too. 3/5

My hands-down favorite books that I've read these last few months are Seraphina and Shadow Scale by Rachel Hartman, which are set in your typical fantasy medieval world and have dragons and a love interest prince, but are otherwise refreshingly and fascinatingly unique. Seraphina is a musician with a secret, one that she does everything to protect. I don't want to describe the books more because spoilers, but they are SO GOOD and you should definitely read them. Seraphina was on sale for like $1.99 on Nook (and I bought it in paperback from Barnes & Noble because I loved it so much), and I borrowed Shadow Scale from the library. 4.9/5

I started this free ebook called Courtlight Series 1-3: Sword to Raise, Sword to Transfer, Sworn to Conflict by Terah Edun (I was on vacation in August, which is why I had so much time to read). I say started because I could not bring myself to finish it. The story had some promise (an orphan girl with mysterious origins is inducted into an academy for training to be a magical courtesan/bodyguard type thing), but it was just ridiculous. Extremely Mary Sue-ish, flatter than pancakes characters, weird "off" writing, etc.

I started another free Kindle book (romance novel meets ecosystem/small town drama?) and just could not finish it either. The heroine almost gets raped by her ex-husband, and her new love interest who saves her like demands she "repay" him, UGH. Why do women write and read this nonsense????

Milk and Honey is a book of poetry by Rupi Kaur that covers topics like abuse, love, relationships, sex, breaking up, pain, self-love, and feminism. I borrowed it from my sister. I'd seen quotes and poems from it on Tumblr but had not read the whole thing. I really liked this. There were many poems that resonated with me. Recommended if you can handle the aforementioned topics. 4/5

Continuing my terrible free ebooks trend, I read this historical romance called Hart's Desire by Chloe Flowers (*chanting* pen name, pen name, pen name). This was pretty formulaic (protagonists hate each other but are soooo attracted to each other, lust to love etc.), and I could not really tell what era it was in. There was a mention of a possible future war against the British, but America was used to describe the country? The War of 1812, maybe? It felt more 1700s but it's difficult to tell. Also, there was that cringy Nice White People thing where the plantation the girl lives on has slaves, but she and her love interest are nice to them while other white people are mean to them. I won't be reading the others unless they also become free and I'm really bored or something. 3/5

In case you're wondering why I'm reading so many romance novels lately, it's because I am always tired and don't want too much of a commitment when reading (the Seraphina books excepted). I never really care about romance novels or their characters or how they end. Junk food for the brain.

EDIT:
I completely forgot that I finished this Kindle book I started way back in April, The Dead Key by D.M. Pulley, in July. This was a decent mystery that alternatingly focused on Beatrice, a 17 year old secretary at a big bank in the 1970s, and Iris, a 22 year old architect (?) who is assigned to draft the layout of the abandoned bank building  in the 1990s. The mystery was pretty interesting and kept you in suspense. I felt that while Beatrice was written pretty well and sympathetically, Iris was an immature, naive girl who seemed more like a teenager than a college graduate. All that stuff about her crush/love interest was unnecessary and went nowhere. What I disliked most about this book was that there was no clean ending. We found out why the bank was closed, but the bad guys did not get their comeuppance and we found out that poor Beatrice is still in hiding, twentysome years later. 3.5 stars

ALSO, for some reason in April I completely forgot to review Dodger by Terry Pratchett (RIP). This was a fantastic book about The Artful Dodger, told pretty much from his point of view and redeeming Fagin as a wise and clever philosopher and grifter. He runs into some interesting people from literature (Sweeney Todd, anyone?) and history. 4.9/5 stars, highly recommended.

Ride ten thousand days and nights til age snow white hairs on thee...

(1 , 2)

TIFITLWIW: The Golden Treasury

This is one of the biggest, loveliest old books I've ever seen and held. It's The Golden Treasury of Poetry and Prose, edited by Francis F. Browne and with an introduction by Richard Henry Stoddard (1883). It's probably a foot wide, a bit longer than that long and about 3-4 inches thick. And it has wonderful illustrations/engravings. Here are the pictures I took of it:

 

The gold parts are metallic and shiny. 

 

These are the authors. I think the signatures are pictures of their handwriting rather than actual physical autographs. Also, Francis F. Browne can get it. I'm totally submitting him to My Daguerreotype Boyfriend.

                           BOOKS.
I cannot think the glorious world of mind,
Embalmed in books, which I can only see
In patches, though I read my moments blind
        Is to be lost to me.

I have a thought that, as we live elsewhere,
So will those dear creations of the brain;
That what I lose unread, I'll find, and there
        Take up my joy again.

O then the bliss of blisses, to be freed
From all the wants by which the world is driven,
With liberty, and endless time to read
        The libraries of Heaven!
~Robert Leighton

Things I still need to memorize

-"When You Are Old" by Yeats
-the werewolf monologue in Prince Caspian

-"You Are Old, Father William" from Alice in Wonderland
-Psalm 139
-To Be or Not to Be
-my work passwords

Verlaine

La canción,
que nunca diré,
se ha dormido en mis labios.
La canción,
que nunca diré.

Sobre las madreselvas
había una luciérnaga,
y la luna picaba
con un rayo en el agua.

Entonces yo soñé,
la canción,
que nunca diré.

Canción llena de labios
y de cauces lejanos.

Canción llena de horas
perdidas en la sombra.

Canción de estrella viva
sobre un perpetuo día.

~Federico Garcia Lorca 

poetry is
a quiet gasp
alone late at night
because you just read
the words your heart
wanted
               needed
                             was trying to say
and both hadn't found
and didn't know
until that moment

 

Note: I think the reason this poem keeps coming up in Google searches is because it is heavily based on a poem I read ages ago and forgot until some of its phrases floated up to the top of my mind and I wrote them down, thinking I'd come up with them. It is very easy for the human mind to commit plagiarism unintentionally.

Blackout Poetry 2

See previous post. Pages from paperback book that was already falling apart, black colored pencil, black crayon.

Blackout Poetry

A popular thing to do on Tumblr is to make blackout poetry from single pages of books by blacking out with a marker or something all the words except for the ones you want to have, thus creating a poem from existent text. Book lovers often decry this as needless destroying of books. I kinda agree with them, but the result is often quite beautiful. Some of my favorite poems are blackout poetry. I think as long as they're old books that are going to be destroyed or thrown away anyway it's ok, but people shouldn't do that to perfectly good books. It's probably best not to think about where the sausage comes from. Anyway, I rediscovered a copy of That Hideous Strength that I had bought for like a quarter at a yard sale but had to replace with a similarly priced copy (with the same cover, of course) because the first 86 pages are missing and the rest are starting to fall out. It is an old book, from the seventies, and paperbacks are not very long-lived, especially if they are read a lot. I didn't have the heart to recycle it as I love C.S. Lewis and that is one of my favorite books, and I thought maybe I could make some book craft with the pages (the cover is this garish hideous '70s sci-fi thing that doesn't lend itself to lovingly created book art simply because it is too ugly). I wasn't quite sure what until I discovered blackout poetry. I decided to try my hand on it with the first remaining page.

Page from a paperback book, black colored pencil, black crayon

This one is actually three short poems since I couldn't think of a longer one. lol They are not connected. They read as follows:

the pale edges of

silence

seemed to be calling

~

the anachronism

met

the person in

her

~

things read and wrote 

were the substance;

to write

and

believe in the reality of

things not seen.

I'm kind of proud of it. The second one (the other side of the page) isn't quite as good, but I still like it, although my coloring job was like a million times more sloppy. Hazards include tearing the page and accidentally coloring over the word I wanted to keep.

Page from a paperback book, black crayon

 

This one is one poem. It's way less colored in/neatly since I was afraid the page might tear if I used the black colored pencil on both sides, so I just used black crayon. Poem is as follows:

a place

of

sunlight,–

of laughter and

wonder

and

better things

Not bad for my first try at it. I've already tried to do the next page but so far I'm not seeing anything. I could have been distracted by the Christmas music I'm listening to.

Michelangelo's paintings on the Sistine Chapel ceiling

On this day, November 1, 1512, Pope Julius II unveiled Michelangelo Buonarroti's frescoes on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome for the first time. It took Michelangelo four years to paint them, and he hated it. He wrote this poem about it, which I love because it's one long complaint:

To Giovanni da Pistoia
"When the Author Was Painting the Vault of the Sistine Chapel"

I've already grown a goiter from this torture,
hunched up here like a cat in Lombardy
(or anywhere else where the stagnant water's poison).
My stomach's squashed under my chin, my beard's
pointing at heaven, my brain's crushed in a casket,
my breast twists like a harpy's. My brush,
above me all the time, dribbles paint
so my face makes a fine floor for droppings!
My haunches are grinding into my guts,
my poor ass strains to work as a counterweight,
every gesture I make is blind and aimless.
My skin hangs loose below me, my spine's
all knotted from folding over itself.
I'm bent taut as a Syrian bow.
Because I'm stuck like this, my thoughts
are crazy, perfidious tripe:
anyone shoots badly through a crooked blowpipe.
My painting is dead.
Defend it for me, Giovanni, protect my honor.
I am not in the right place—I am not a painter.

Not a painter! I love him. I went to the Sistine Chapel when I was in Italy, and it was glorious. Absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking. I'm sad he was forced to do it and that he suffered, but I think it was worth it because of the beautiful legacy he left to the world. Think of all the people who have been uplifted by its beauty.

You can read all of Michelangelo's poems here
The text of the poem is from this Slate article, which is excellent and you should totally read it
Image source
History info is from The Writer's Almanac's enewsletter for today

On Habakkuk 2: 18-19

by Doug Groothius

This glamorous gusto for godlets;
this voracious volition for vacuity;
this incessant insistence for idols.

Grasping a fistful of falsehood.
Consuming a stomach-ful of stupidity.
Filling a mind full of maddening mush.

Perform! Oh, you purveyors of nothingness.
Entertain our eyes, fill our years.
Enthrall our ears.
Give life to our living, and
deal the death blow to death.

We made you,
Now re-make us.

War Some of the Time

                                             by Charles Bukowski

when you write a poem it
needn't be intense
it
can be nice and
easy
and you shouldn't necessarily
be
concerned only with things like anger or
love or need;
at any moment the
greatest accomplishment might be to simply
get
up and tap the handle
on that leaking toilet;
I've
done that twice now while typing
this
and now the toilet is
quiet.
to
solve simple problems: that's
the most
satisfying thing, it
gives you a chance and it
gives everything else a chance
too.

we were made to accomplish the easy
things
and made to live through the things
hard.