Forest of pixel -ated ash, doom me with your fire prophecy
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This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.
Life is short, though I keep this from my children. Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways, a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative estimate, though I keep this from my children. For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird. For every loved child, a child broken, bagged, sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.
Sweat and tears taste the same if you know what to do with another tongue
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You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile, the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting— over and over announcing your place in the family of things.
New man on the block Wet with pride and pride and prejudice Never young for long
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How We Fight For Our Lives: A Memoir by Saeed Jones
Book Review: How We Fight For Our Lives: A Memoir by Saeed Jones
***Note: This review was originally posted to my Goodreads account in October of 2019.***
Everyone has a lie we’re quietly waiting to believe.
With startling economy of language, Saeed Jones tells his story with such precision that after turning the last page you feel as if you’ve been borrowing his skin.
If you read one book this year, let this be it. Please.
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Once I wore a dress liquid as vodka. My lover watched me ascend from the subway like I was an underground spring breaking through. I want to stop wanting to be wanted like that. I’m tired of the song the rain sings in June, the chorus of hope, the ravenous green, the earth, her ornate crown of trees spiking up from her loamy head. There are things I wanted, like everyone. But to this angel of wishes I’ve worshiped so long, I ask now to admit the world as it is.
If you get close to what you love, who you are is revealed to you.
Ethan Hawke
Today’s quote resonates with me in a very profound way. I think the most beautiful thing in the world must be witnessing, or better yet experiencing, certainty to purpose. So many of us stumble through life chasing things that don’t really hold any value, but when we find something we love, we’re fools if we don’t grab ahold of it and never let it go.
We only have one shot at getting this right. One chance at deciding what matters and who we’re going to be.
My hope for myself, and for all of you reading this, is that we have the courage to wake up every day and choose ourselves, to prioritize our dreams over life’s routines and mundanities. We only have one shot at getting this right. One chance at deciding what matters and who we’re going to be. The stakes couldn’t be higher. Live—and love—with no regrets. Or don’t. It’s up to you.
Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter and Instagram @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.
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