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(no subject) [May. 25th, 2011|07:55 pm]
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Our work will at least have distracted us, it will have provided a perfect bubble in which to insert our hopes for perfection, it will have focused our immeasurable anxieties on a few relatively small-scale and achievable goals, it will have given us a sense of mastery, it will have made us respectfully tired, it will have put food on the table. It will have kept us out of greater trouble.

- The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work, Alain De Botton
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(no subject) [Oct. 16th, 2008|09:25 pm]
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...My mind then wandered. I thought of this: I thought of how every day each of us expereinces a few little moments that have just a bit more resonance than other moments--we hear a word that sticks in our mind--or maybe we have a small experience that pulls us out of ourselves, if only briefly--we share a hotel elevator with a bride in her veils, say, or a stranger gives us a piece of bread to feed the mallard ducks in the lagoon; a small child starts a conversation with us in Dairy Queen--or we have an episode like the one I had with the M&M cars back at the Husky station.

And if we were to collect these small moments in a notebook and save them over a period of months we would see certain trends emerge from our collection--certain voices would emerge that have been trying to speak through us. We would realise that we have been having another life altogether, one we didn't even know was going on inside us. And maybe this other life is more important than the one we think of as being real--this clunky day-to-day world of furniture and noise and metal. So just maybe it is these small silent moments which are the true story-making events of our lives.

-- Life After God, pages 254-5
Douglas Coupland
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(no subject) [Jun. 16th, 2006|04:13 pm]
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I am cold and transparent -- I mirror what I contain. Hard contains soft, but we look the same. Two much clearness threatens to cancel each other out; so I live on the edge of realisation and in the centres of tables. I am the sum of what I hold. This is my function- to contain, to remain in tact. I'm covered in fingerprints but otherwise clean. Won't you drink from me?


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I'm a bright spark. I am freedom and wonder and fragility. When my wing was broken, you carried me as delicately as I would break. You placed me in folds of softness. I felt there was no end to the soft elasticity; that I would fall and fall and fall with no abrupt end, no hard edge. I hope you dream about me again.


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I am loose magnetic energy. You and I stand in the inbetweens, on the threshold. I start fires, but you don't see the spark. I change the stasis; I am a type of movement. You notice me most when I'm misplaced. I'd like you to misplace me, sometimes.
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(no subject) [Nov. 26th, 2005|11:21 am]
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Due to cutbacks, the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off.

-Unknown source
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(no subject) [Oct. 22nd, 2005|12:32 pm]
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Patterned, sideways moving, crablike cuts. Twirls progress, like ribbons, small as pockets, steps. Steps. Bent backwards, moving for wards tucked in corridors in houses painted blues, greens. Splotching -- (like) us. Patterned, leave overlapping, crossing, not crossed or bent; furrowed, sniffing suspiciously-- life’s proximity. Receding into greys, slow purple peaks, droplets- proof. Watching in reverse: pouches, delicate. They gravitate to the arching limbs. And the sky.
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Lunch time rush [Sep. 27th, 2005|01:10 pm]
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There is a car in the flowerbed of the pub that is directly opposite my work. In front of the car- two police cars and a fire engine.

Seems the car glided swiftly into the side of the pub. The petals of the flowers now sparkle with glittery carnage.

Maybe they were hungry and thought the brick wall was a drive-through.
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Words and flames [Sep. 25th, 2005|10:23 am]
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I noticed a leaf had fallen into my tea, but as I poised my thumb, I decided that it was probably cleaner drinking tea with a leaf in it than a tea branded by my grubby thumb.

Birds squawked somewhere close. Not close enough to see. Even now, from my window, I hear but do not see them.

The image of curry curls comes back to me and I imagine how best to fit them into the tapestry of sentence. Her tawny curry curls simmered in the sunlight.

I am comfortable in my nook, decidedly happier with my newfound resolution. I need to read more, and I have been, and I am glad.

--The word is a flame burning in a dark glass.
-Sheila Watson
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Ah ha! [Sep. 19th, 2005|10:40 am]
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[Current Mood |sleepyThe finest of Monday apathy]

Me: Do you think it’s unwise to ask a crude online magic eight ball answers to pertinent life questions?

Crude online magic eight ball: Signs point to yes.
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