MMMH, BOY, DO YOU LIKE STARING AT THE FLESHY LUMPS OF FAT ON MY CHEST? YEAH, YOU KNOW IT.
Love as a CurrencyWe price things in terms of love
"I love this thing,
But does the value of its cost
Outweigh the value I, myself
Have placed upon it?"
"I love this person,
But do I love them enough
To do the things for them I'll be expected to
If I tell them?"
The funny thing
Or the sad thing
Is that if the answer is 'no'
We sigh and place our hands on our hearts
As though it tears at us
To simply walk away
And forget about that thing
Or that person
But we do it anyway.
We price things in terms of love
While something everyone has a right to,
Is not a currency everyone understands.
I tell people,
"I love the English language
I love words
I love what they can do."
But I don't think I have a right to that one.
I price things in terms of love
"I love this kid."
"I love this room."
"I love this story, this poem,
This artistic application of twenty-six letters
And however many words,
Gathered to make something
If I were to price things in terms of beauty
Which I do, sometimes
...and out the other sideWhat's the worst part? Arthur asks, carding his fingers lightly through Eames' hair.
He's silent for a long time and it's moments after Arthur resigns himself to not getting an answer before he speaks. His voice is low and tired and full of so much numb pain Arthur can't help but tighten his arms around his shoulders, trying to protect him from harm already done, dealt by himself. The worst part, he murmurs in that broken voice, is believing that if you make it through withdrawal, you're out for good.
Arthur brings his chin down to tuck over Eames' shoulder, eyes closed against the mess of styrofoam cups neither have bothered to tidy. He has nothing to say, so he presses his tight lips against the bare, tattooed skin, neither apology nor forgiveness, but reassurance. I thought you would die, he thinks about saying. I thought you'd given up, he wants to whisper. I thought you'd abandoned me and I was so scared and so angry and you're so infinitely dumb, but we'll face this together, he
Six Weeks and an EternityHe’s going to finish his degree. In six weeks, he’s going to have his final recital and jury. No more touchy Yamaha in a tiny practice room, no more living off Mr Noodle and too-little sleep. In six weeks, he’s not going to be Malorie-Miles’-promising-student. In six weeks, he’s going to be Arthur-Fucking-Goldberg-Like-The-Variations, capitals and profanity present and necessary. Because in six weeks he’s going to perform in front of half the conservatorium. In six weeks, he’s going to be handed offers left and right. He’s going to hammer Mendelssohn, nail Haydn, flawlessly execute Schubert, turn Rachmaninoff from beautiful sound to liquid gold for the ears and effortlessly make Mozart something worth playing. Six weeks.
Mozart hadn’t been his idea, of course. It had been Mal’s.
“Arthur, mon beau, you will play Mozart for your recital.” He recalls the conversation clearly.
“Mal, I’m not going to
The BreadmakerEdith knelt before the bread ovens, pushing limp, sweat-soaked hair back from her forehead to better look through the tiny window at the tiger loaves cracking in the heat. She heard Flavia scolding another cook for burning a loaf, her usually kind voice cracking out under the stress of the incoming orders. Every time the far steel door opened to release the loaves, Edith caught the sound of loud voices and something too happy to exist in her world.
France was celebrating. What, Edith knew not, but that they were was obvious. She imagined the wine connoisseurs were having and even worse time of it. She’d worked in (been sold into) the wine trade once, but they soon found her to be all but useless as a connoisseur, as unable to read the swirling script on the bottles as she was to read the unadorned black letters Flavia read out to the cooks.
The loaves were done. Smoothly, Edit pulled open the oven, feeling the hairs on her arms all but curl from the heat before she managed to rem
The Penrose Girl and the Caspian SeaThe fire licks at her body and he wants to scream, because she can’t. Not anymore. His hands are held loosely in his pockets, one turning a red poker chip over and over. She’d been a gambler, he remembers. Of course he remembers. It was how they’d met. She was a terrible gambler. She made a living from spinning lies, but couldn’t hold a poker face for shit.
A tiny, fond smile pulls at a corner of his mouth as the rest of his face is swallowed with melancholy. His Penrose Girl.
She’d never liked fire, but cremation had been her idea. She loved he sea, but was scared of the creatures in it. A woman of paradoxes. He loves her for it.
A switch is flicked and the flames die away. She is gone. Nothing but ash is left. He wonders numbly how it can happen like that. She was there, but now she’s not. It’s a sudden thing and it makes his old hands tremble as they clutch his walking stick.
Later, when standing on the beach near their home, he wonders when
Haiku Theory Part 1 -2009-A Lot of Words About A Little Poem
An Introduction to Haiku Structures
A haiku poem cannot be defined according to the number of syllables and lines it contains (nor by the number of syllables in each line). Although I do not wish to go into the reasons why at this point (I will save that for a later discussion) the form of modern English haiku, as Haruo Shirane writes, is a short poem, usually written in one to three lines. (in Gilbert, 2009) At this point our definition sounds very vague. If the number of syllables and lines do not define a haiku poem, then what does? And if a haiku poem is simply a short one, two or three-line poem then what separates it from other forms of Western short-verse or, in the case of one-line haiku, a sentence?
Patricia Donegan writes, in agreement with the Western haiku community at large, that syllable counting... is not the important thing for haiku in English. Haiku is an experience, not an act of co
If God loves me why would He send me to hell?A question I've seen and heard many times. Often used to justify a sin.
People mistakenly seem to think that because Jesus' sacrifice on the cross was sufficient to clean our sins, we are forever saved regardless of what we do. His sacrifice wasn't meant to take away our sins so we could keep living a sinful life, walk away from His righteous ways and still somehow get to heaven. He sacrificed Himself for us to ensure that even if we sin, we can have the hope of being redeemed, of being forgiven and saved, if we accept our mistakes and ask forgiveness.
"He himself bore our sins" in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; "by his wounds you have been healed." ~1 Peter 2:24
Nowadays, people want to be saved, but they don't want to repent. Repentance is: "To change one's mind. A change of heart, that involves turning away from sin" (Ezekiel 14:6)
"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us fro
Brushing Up Against HistoryNovember 1963
I'm eight years old and sitting in class (I strangely recall that my seat was in the middle of second row, on the side away from the window), when the principal comes in to tell us that the president has been shot.
I do not know
what it means, but I know
that it scares me.
My mother meets Senator Robert F. Kennedy while he is campaigning in San Francisco and gets his autograph. I live with my father in a small town in Michigan, where every year leading up to Memorial Day, I sell paper poppies for the VFW.
blood of soldiers on the field
war has come home
I watch the news and see the body count, arranged like a scorecard. The numbers say we are winning, but one of those numbers is from our town, the only casualty that week. I don't know him, but I see his picture on the cover of Life Magazine.
I turn 17 the next month
and try to join the Marine Corp
my father will not sign
As a small-town b
The Bible Says God Doesn't Exist (Really!)
Many Christians wonder how anyone could doubt the existence of God, but it turns out it's right in the bible. If you read between the lines, it tells you there's no God
1) The bible claims that God sacrificed Jesus for our sins. (John 3:16, Romans 3:25, Ephesians 5:2, Hebrews 9:26) (This is ignoring Deuteronomy 24:16 and Ezekiel 18:20, which state that everyone is to be responsible for their own transgressions without anyone else dying for their sins, thus undermining the primary basis of Christianity.)
2) Since Jesus is God (2 Peter 1:1, John 10:30-33, and other verses), premise 1 means that God sacrificed himself.
3) A sacrifice involves the destruction of the entire being, including the spirit. This seems intuitively obvious especially for a self-sacrifice, since it's not much of a sacrifice if the martyr is guaranteed an eternity in heaven.
Do somen about ur jealousy
Have you ever get jealous over someone's talent? Or think someone is better than you, and you are nothing? Have you ever said to someone "I wish I have your talent?"
If that's you, here is my tips for you.
Instead of just dwelling on that sour feeling of jealousy, do something about it.
1) Remember: No one pops out good works like magic, no talent would shine without hard work. When you are envying, or complimenting other's "Talents" you are really complimenting their results of hard work. No matter how talented one can be, without hard work talents are NOTHING.
a) Everyone has a different starts, different environments, different developments, different interests.
Everyone has a different start, a different environment, and different development... focus on developing yourself with what you have, and try to learn from whoever you can learn from.
Many artists are talented and gifted since their youth, but it's also their environment that plays a
The Best Case for God: Refuted
Pay it "Foreword"
I recently came across an ingenious website written to argue in favor of the existence of Yahweh, the Christian God. The argument presented is impressive, if only for its crafty misdirection and intellectual sleight-of-hand. The website is the work of Rich Deem, who seems very intelligent and well-educated. In this way he provides evidence for Michael Shermer's quote, "smart people believe weird things because they are skilled at defending beliefs they arrived at for non-smart reasons."
As I wrote this book, I began by focusing on the linked article about whether atheists have disproven God, and then branched out to other parts of the website later. I then found even more interesting arguments from William Lane Craig and addressed them as well. I've also included a fe
The code of master and slaveThe Code of Master and Slave
The bond between master and slave revised version 2.1.36
now for all of those who need boundaries to save an abusive relationship with your master
This is the code that bonds master and pet. This is my version of the code of life. Anyone who has any suggestions may give them to me no matter how small they are all appreciated. This code is a system of honor that the pet and the master are bound to breaking this code is considered a deed of great dishonor. There are many things that will be discussed in this code and I will try and cover all the bases starting with the every day life part. This document is now a collaboration of the works of many artists and if your piece may fit into this please tell me and I will include it if it relates to the topic at hand. This document is my life's work and it will always be important to me. If you so choose to make it part of your life please take great care
distinctionThis is what I cannot understand.
There is an understanding that nothing is ever black and white. Good can be achieved through bad means, what's wrong can sometimes be right, and if you turn right for long enough, you eventually go left. Boys can be girls who fall in love with girls who sometimes think they are boys and the lines between everything end up irreversibly blurred.
Or so I've always thought.
But this is a line that cannot be blurred. This is the only remaining clear-cut line that separates black from white as perfectly as a color wheel. And that is the fact that everything is until it isn't. We are until we aren't. We breathe until we don't. We live until we die. There is no gray area, no matter what the talk of doctors and comas and life support and brain death might say. Your heart beats until it doesn't.
This goes beyond just life and death. Emotions are until they aren't. As are moments, definitions, seasons. Two people falling in love, well, some of them inevitably cra
How to Be a Likeable Female Character1. Have a sense of humor.
2. Learn to do some things for yourself; don't just sit around and expect someone else to handle all the work.
3. Have a listening ear and a sympathetic heart.
4. Dream about true love, but at the same time know how to care for yourself.
5. If you do find love, love him for who he is, not for what you want him to be.
6. Never be controlling or manipulative.
7. Never let anyone push you around.
8. Cry when necessary, but don't get carried away.
9. Always stand by those whom you truly care about.
10. Don't be so serious that you forget to have fun, but don't have so much fun that you forget to be serious.