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Bottles have no sleeves.


The contenders


May 16th, 2010

What about bobby's prayer?

The contenders
Let us remember
That we do not take for granted,
the struggles
others before us
have bestowed upon us:

December 24th, 2009

Thanks to dr lim. =j


October 26th, 2009

October 10th, 2009

This is it.

The contenders
Ended after 3 months.
Chapter closes.

Time to open another.
Life goes on

July 12th, 2009

Conditions of love

The contenders
The ideas in the reading can be slightly abstract or convoluted, but I'll try to share what I know is clear:


An earlier excerpt discussing the falling in love and it being beyond our control:

Falling in love, then, is a result of two things coming together: The longings which we have and the workings of our imagination.
The first draws us out of ourselves in search of another personl the latter intimates that a particular other person may be the one who can satisfy us. When these come together there is an amzing explosion of feeling. All our desires become focused upon that person and we look, dazzled, into those beloved eyes and see - if only for a while - the summation of our own existence and a new world of happiness. Although we have seen that those longings may be darker and more complex xthan we might like to believe.


His (Schiller) ode anticipation (to which Schubert gave on of his finest settings) describes the thoughts and emotions of a lover sitting by a window, awaiting the arrival of his beloved; it is probably based on an experience of his waiting for Charlotte von Lengefeld, the woman he was soon to marry. At every moment a slight sound or movement in the garden makes him think she has come at last - but no, he realizes it was only the wind in the branches of the tress, an apple dropping in the orchard, or the glimmer of a swan on the lake. But in his disappointment he enjoys a stronger and surer grasp of his love for her.

Why? Because anticipation, if conducted imaginatively (as it is here), doesn't just mean hanging around muttering: 'Where is she, when is she coming?' It involves thinking: 'Was that her footstep? I love the way she walks, she seems to carry herself so lightly.' that is it involves dwelling upon just what it is one is waiting for: the other comes alive under the benign influence of such thoughts. The lover, in this beautiful song, sees the whole of nature joining in his passion. He wants the trees to embrace her protectively, he wants the gentle breeze to enjoy the warmth of her cheeks; he begs night and silence to come quickly and provide the perfect sympathetic setting for their love. And he sees his own love as continuous with an eroticized nature: doesn't the wind kiss the flower; don't graps and pears swell under the loving influence of the sun?

The way the lover uses nature in this poetic example has, of course, a distinguished cultural history. It was a major obsession of the era to see in nature a reflection of human passions; this in turn was a special deveopment of the medieval view which regarded all of nature in symbolic terms. But the interest of the ode, for me (John Armstrong), does not lie in the specific images employed. Rather it is the way in which the lover spins out - and enlarges - his passion by aligning it with whatever comes conveniently to hand. This is the opposite of the climax and discharge of passion which brings feeling to a close. On the contrary, imagination in this case seeks to keep the passion growing in the mind of the lover.


June 26th, 2009

stashed somewhere...

in that still and
settled place
there's nobody
but you
you're where i breathe
my oxygen
you're where i see
my view
and when the world
feels full of noise
my heart knows
what to do
it finds that still and
settled place
and dances there
with you

:: edward monkton

Pyrosx shared this with me and I marveled a little while with just the melody, since this was a choral appreciation thingey.
But as I listened, I went to look for the translations and lo and behold, a very beautiful poem in the right context.
Here's sharing anyway.

Amor de mi alma

Garcilaso de la Vega

Yo no nací sino para quereros;
Mi alma os ha cortado a su medida;
Por hábito del alma misma os quero.

Escrito esté en mi alma vuestro gesto;
Yo lo leo tan solo que aun de vos
Me guardo en esto.

Quanto tengo confiesso yo deveros;
Por vos nací, por vos tengo la vida,
Y por vos e de morir y por vos

Tr. Stroope

I was born to love only you;
My soul has formed you to its measure
I want you as a garment for my soul.

Your very image is written on my soul;
Such indescribable intimacy
I hide even from you.

All that I have, I owe to you;
For you I was born, for you I live,
For you I must die, and for you
I give my last breath.

“Soneta V”

Garcilaso de la Vega

Escrito está en mi alma vuestro gesto,
y cuanto yo escrebir de vos deseo;
vos sola lo escrebistes, yo lo leo
tan solo, que aun de vos me guardo en esto.

En esto estoy y estaré siempre puesto;
que aunque no cabe en mí cuanto en vos veo,
de tanto bien lo que no entiendo creo,
tomando ya la fe por presupuesto.

Yo no nací sino para quereros;
mi alma os ha cortado a su medida;
por hábito del alma mismo os quiero.

Cuanto tengo confieso yo deberos;
por vos nací, por vos tengo la vida,
por vos he de morir, y por vos muero.

Tr. Keith Beckman

Your every aspect is written on my soul:
and how much more I desire to write!
None but you has written, and I may only read,
that in reading, I might hide even from you.

In this I am and ever will be settled,
even though I see in you some few incompatibilities
(because I do not well understand what I believe,
already taking my fidelity for granted).

I was not born but to love you.
You my soul has cut to its measure:
it’s you I want as a cloak for my soul.

How much I must confess I owe you:
for you I was born, for you I have life.
Were it necessary, for you I would die;
and for you I do die.

June 10th, 2009

The conversationCollapse )

May 4th, 2009


Memories of the rose
if i could reach you
and show you
my fear
i would open your eyes
like the vastness that I would fade
and gripped by every single droplet
of humidity like a strangle
that tears me from you
i tremble with yearning
and fall into the light
tumbling through the nothingness
so that I can catch up with reality
and my arms that once held you
now reach out to find you

:: an adaptation

March 23rd, 2009

That's how they think...

The deceit of mortality
my brother says it in the most 'matter of fact' tone
when the bad things happen
they will always come at a go
you lose your job
or you hate what you are doing
someone close passes away
you relationship breaks down
you hate who you are or what you have become

steam roller
truck just rams you
or maybe
it seeps in slowly

some spare some contemplation
while others come to a swift conclusion
the lack of meaning
or goals or sense or love or existence
despair mostly
that's how it is

me? I honestly disapprove(and even slightly despise)
at the lack of faith
or hope
or courage
or strength

what would you do if you were put in their shoes?
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