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Posts tagged ‘Loveliness’

A caress leads us from our infancy


If pressed to answer questions like “What is love? What is lust? Is there a precise moment when they independently intertwine, or does one necessarily lead to the other?” I wouldn’t know what to say. I wouldn’t be able to fully articulate my answers to such questions. Words wouldn’t be and could never be enough.

So, instead of attempting to answer these questions, I’d just play this video for the inquisitor. I’d hope that they would understand. I’d want them to see what I do: that the answers to each of these questions can be found in these 3 minutes and 15 seconds of cinematic perfection from Jean-Luc Godard‘s Alphaville, a French dystopian science fiction film.

This is love. This is desire. This is the beautiful and terrifying moment when the two intertwine. This says it all in a way that words alone never could.

And this resonates with me right now, more than I can say, more than anyone knows, more than it ever has before:

Your voice, your eyes, your hands, your lips… Our silences, our words… Light that goes, light that returns. A single smile between us. In quest of knowledge, I watched night create day while we seemed unchanged. O beloved all, beloved of one alone, your mouth silently promised to be happy. Away, away says hate; Closer, closer says love. A caress leads us from our infancy. Increasingly I see the human form as a lovers’ dialogue. The heart has but one mouth. Everything by chance. All words without thought. Sentiments adrift. Men roam the city. A glance, a word. Because I love you, everything moves. We must advance to live. Aim straight ahead towards those you love. I went toward you, endlessly toward the light. If you smile, it enfolds me all the better. The rays of your arms pierce the mist.


Reading two of Anne Sexton’s poems: “With Mercy for the Greedy” and “The Black Art”

“Need is not quite belief…”

Reading two of my favorite poems: Anne Sexton‘s “With Mercy for the Greedy” and “The Black Art

My friend, my friend, I was born
doing reference work in sin, and born
confessing it.

Christmas-y photos

Some Christmas-y photos:

My parents’ super-tall tree


An adorable little Santa candle


A Santa ornament from the ’50s. (If I remember right, it once belonged to my grandparents.)


The fireplace at my parents’ house


I love this sweater to bits. It’s so very cozy. ♥


I hope that everyone had a lovely Christmas! :)

“Look to the future now, it’s only just begun…” (some lovely Christmas videos)

Christmas makes me rather melancholy. It has for as long as I can remember. The melancholy is a bittersweet poignant longing for things both tangible and intangible. But I’m no Scrooge, and I would never complain about Christmas. There’s something quite lovely about it, and I do enjoy giving gifts and such. The melancholy, though, is never far away.

So, in an attempt to cheer myself (and, I hope, perhaps some of you) up, I bring you a random collection of some of my favorite Christmas-related videos. :)


I love Handel’s Messiah, especially when it’s performed by the London Symphony Orchestra. It’s so very gorgeous. Here’s “Part II, No 44. Hallelujah” from a 2006 performance:


“A Patrick Swayze Christmas” from MST3K is absolutely hilarious. I love it to bits. “Well then grab hold of your socks and read on, Joel Robinson!”:

It’s my way or the highway, this Christmas at my bar.
I’ll have to smash your kneecaps if you bastards touch my car!
I got the word that Santa has been stealing from the till.
I think that that right jolly old elf had better make out his will!
Oh, let’s have a Patrick Swayze Christmas, one and all.
And this can be the haziest…
This can be the laziest…
This can be the Swayziest Christmas of them all!



“Another Christmas at Home” is a fun & sweet song from lovely indie-pop band Eux Autres:


If you don’t like Slade‘s awesome and ridiculously charming “Merry Xmas Everybody”, then I probably don’t want to know you ;)

Look to the future now,
It’s only just begun…


“Linus and Lucy” isn’t the most poignant or beautiful of Vince Guaraldi’s songs from  A Charlie Brown Christmas, but it’s definitely the most fun, partly because of this hilariously cute dance scene:

I’m pretty sure that I’ve imitated most of those dance moves at one point or another. When watching with friends, it’s almost impossible not to. I’m especially fond of the Frankenstein’s Monster Kid (WTF is he doing?) and the Kid in Orange, who has some serious game, am i rite? And Linus and Sally are adorable as always.

But dear god, Charlie Brown is such a damn killjoy (in every manifestation of Peanuts, not just the Christmas special). Seriously, kid, stop complaining and feeling sorry for yourself. No one wants to hear it, and that’s why you don’t get any Christmas cards. It’s not because the universe is unfair to you or whatever. You’re not Job. You’re not living in squalor. You’re just insufferable. Life is short and beautiful and glorious, Charlie Brown. I understand what it’s like to feel unhappy (and far worse), I do, but, kid, the world is not your therapist. Just stop it. Be more like Linus, or Sally, or even Lucy, okay? God.

(I can’t be the only one who feels this way about Charlie Brown, right? :) )


This is total WIN: Dean (swoon!) and Frank performing “A Marshmallow World” on a Christmas episode of The Dean Martin Showbeing their charming dapper drunken goofy darling selves:


Oh how I adore the wonderful Love Actually. Even though it makes me sad, I can’t help but watch it at least twice every Christmas season. Picking a favorite scene is pretty much impossible, but this is definitely one of the best. It makes my heart ache in a bittersweet lovely way, and I never want to get to the point where it doesn’t make me cry, if that makes sense:

Oh, my…


Today it is okay to drown, at least for a little while

Now he is scattered among a hundred cities
And wholly given over to unfamiliar affections,
To find his happiness in another kind of wood
And be punished under a foreign code of conscience.
The words of a dead man
Are modified in the guts of the living.

From W.H. Auden’sIn Memory of W. B. Yeats


Harold Bloom, in The Anxiety of Influence, writes:

The precursors flood us, and our imaginations can die by drowning in them, but no imaginative life is possible if such inundation is wholly evaded.

All writers know this flood, this beautiful terrifying flood, whether we realize it or not. It is a flood of words so gloriously brilliant and so achingly gorgeous that they make us both shudder with pleasure and wince with pain. It is a double-edged sword, like that dreadfully thrilling moment when we first realize that lust and anxiety are almost indistinguishable from one another. It is like looking into the face of one whose beauty renders us speechless with both desire and fear. It is a flood of pleasure, of admiration, of love, of pain. After the flood, we are exhausted, inspired, and hurt, in love with a beauty that, try as we might, we can neither possess nor emulate.

And Bloom is right: if, reeling with desperation, confusion, awe, or pleasure, we refuse to fight against this chaotic intoxicating maelstrom, if we chose to drown, we surrender. We render ourselves incapable of engaging in the joy and the toil and the torturous thrill of writing, depriving ourselves and others, leaving too many words unsaid.

Yet, as with all maxims, there are exceptions and caveats to Bloom’s claim. There are those few writers, those glorious few, whose flood of words we cannot help but surrender to. We must let the dizzying awe and the terrifyingly ecstatic thrill that we feel in the presence of their words render us silent with admiration, with love.

In the words of Eliot, their “human voices wake us, and we drown”.

This is especially true when one such voice is extinguished too soon, a voice that refused to “go gentle into that good night“, a voice that, like a benevolent Ozymandias, towers over us, leaving us to ask ourselves what we could we possibly say that would do them justice.

A voice like Christopher Hitchens’s. A voice like no other. A voice that has been silenced all too soon. A voice of staggering brilliance that has now left us with the haunting and heartbreaking question of what might have been.

Many will try, but few possess the words, the knowledge, the personal insight, or the rhetorical talent to give him the remembrances he deserves. For those of us who do not, this is a day to surrender to our awe, our admiration, and our sadness. It is a day to listen to others. It is a day to surrender to our memories of the voice of Christopher Hitchens, a human voice that woke us if ever there was one.

Today it is okay to drown, at least for a little while.

Some early December photos ♥

A lovely new moon:

Pretty pink bracelet:

Having a milkshake today. I have a milkshake like once or twice a year, max, so it was quite the occasion ;) (And yes, I really really need to re-paint my nails soon. Egad!)

A lovely light fixture in a grocery store parking lot:

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