Love Poem
It’s so nice
to wake up in the morning
all alone
and not have to tell somebody
you love them
when you don’t love them
any more.
- Richard Brautigan
“ yeah i want a remade horizon. ”
Dirty Projectors
“ We should also explore innovative approaches being pursued here in New York City; innovations like Bard High School Early College and Medgar Evers College Preparatory School that are challenging students to complete high school and earn a free associate’s degree or college credit in just four years. ”
WTF
$9.99, dir. Tatia Rosenthal
Every Day You Play - Pablo Neruda
Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.
You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.
The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.
You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.
Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.
How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.
My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
films seen: May 24th to May 30th
Fabulous! The Story of Queer Cinema, 2006, dir. Lisa Ades
By Hook or By Crook, 2001, dir. Harriet Dodge
Totally Fucked Up, 1993, dir. Gregg Araki
The Notorious Bettie Page, 2005, dir. Mary Harron
Broken Flowers, 2005, dir. Jim Jarmusch
I’m Not There, 2007, dir. Todd Haynes
500 Days of Summer. I need to see this.
“ What information consumes is rather obvious: It consumes the attention of its recipients. Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention, and a need to allocate that attention efficiently among the overabundance of information sources that might consume it. ”
Herbert A. Simon, via NYMag’s The Benefits of Distraction and Overstimulation
films seen: May 10th to May 17th
monday night: The Living End, 1992, dir. Gregg Araki
tuesday afternoon: High Art, 1998, dir. Lisa Cholodenko
tuesday night: Swoon, 1992, dir. Tom Kalin
wednesday night: Poison, 1991, dir. Todd Haynes
friday night: Julien Donkey-Boy, 1999, dir. Harmony Korine
saturday night: Down by Law, 1986, dir. Jim Jarmusch
