if you believe the soil and earth can transmit the messages of the divine, then drink natural wine from europe. it’s tangible in this bottle. attempting to glorify the small things a la walt whitman. new york, new york…….
i checked out my first book from the new york society library. this seal is stamped on the inside cover. upper east side.
I am now a member of the new york society library. this room called “the members lounge” is one of the many benefits you receive upon joining. Many days and evenings will be consumed reading silently in this chair. upper east side. new york,new york.
4thday ofDecemberin the year2009
god i love this place. Sunday I will drop off bags of used clothing and in return, recieve a heminway or nabokov novel for less than $4. chelsea,nyc
Fridays with Walt***(see below)
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
the distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
-Walt Whitman. Excerpt from “Song of Myself.”
***this is the first of many “fridays with walt” that I will post on my tumblr. the idea here, is to reflect and relish in the small things. the tiny miracles. those which walt so eloquently articulated…. like a snow-hushed morning in central park, or the tactile orgasm we achieve when a delicious wine or cooked vegetable smacks the palate.
this house is in new york friggin city.
photo apt therapy
Scoured around town all day in search of some E.E Cummings, finally found a little paperback overpriced in a secondhand store. Got lunch in a vegetarian café and inquired about a job, then picked up a copy of Salinger’s Franny & Zooey from Waterstones. I purchased some onions for cooking dinner, some orange juice and two pints of milk and pondered home in the rain. Simple pleasures are the key to contentment right now, I swear.
“But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. There is never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now, And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. Urge and Urge and Urge.”
-Walt Whitman. Excerpt from “Song of Myself”.
This was one of the best books I read over the course of the year.
It also was the book that probably affected me the most.
I urge you to read it.
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