tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67015801086227878182024-03-14T03:40:48.095+09:00things are queerWhen she spills poison from her steel lips and then yells at me "lets do something crazy"thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-74635903854518614512013-09-11T21:26:00.000+09:002013-09-11T21:28:18.808+09:00으자꾸만 애간장을 태웠다. 분노하다가도 어떻게든 이뻐보이고 싶어 무진장 애를 썼다. 어느 날 밤은 나한테, 너는 정말 사랑스러워, 라고 했는데 그 말이 너는 사랑스럽지만 너를 사랑하지는 않아, 라는 말로 들려 잠결인 듯 정강이를 발로 차주었다.<br />
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그 당시의 나. 그 아이를 위해 찍은 사진. </div>
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thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-81301345496698050922013-05-23T01:20:00.000+09:002013-05-23T01:20:05.353+09:00자야 되는데며칠 전, 만나자마자 아론이 풀 죽은 목소리로<br />
넌 나보다 영화 취향이 좋은거 같아,<br />
라고 해서 에? 에에-?<br />
그러더니, 그리고 넌 나보다 책도 많이 읽고, 난 책 잘 못 읽는데.<br />
그래서 내가 대신에 너는 재능이 많잖아 사진도 잘 찍고 요리도 잘 하고 말도 천재같이 할 때가 많잖아<br />
그러니까 기분이 조금 풀렸는지, 나는 그래도 브래들리 쿠퍼 좋아해thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-90371953749835237712012-12-31T20:38:00.001+09:002013-01-13T23:38:35.351+09:00Bye 2012혼자.<br />
기분과 몸은 최악이고, 무엇을 잃기 위해 이렇게 치열해야 하는가. 여기 가만히 앉아 몇 시간만 흘러 보내면 2012년은 너무도 쉽게 잃을 수 있는데도.<br />
며칠 전 술에 취해 나보고 고양이 같은 년이라고 고래고래 소리지르며 온갖 악담을 퍼부었던 희진이가 생각 나,<br />
나도 개 같은 년이 되고 싶을 때도 있어, 라고 말하지 못한 것을 후회한다.<br />
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http://goldenrecord.org/viewer.swf<br />
1977년에 우주로 쏘아보낸 이미지들이라고 한다. 받는 사람(것?)이 어디서 얼마나 떨어져 있는 곳에서 무엇을 하고 있는지, 존재는 하고 있는지도 모른 채 지구를 잘 대표할 수 있는 이미지를 고르고 고른 사람의 마음이 괜히 짠하다.<br />
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내년에는 날씨가 좋았으면 좋겠네요.thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-56071216751378909612012-12-27T23:10:00.000+09:002012-12-27T23:36:28.064+09:00Winter 2012끝나간다.<br />
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정말 '끝'이기 전까지는 끝의 시작의 무한 반복일 것 같은 느낌.<br />
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2012년 지구 종말은 오지 않았다. 지난 겨울 히스토리 채널에서 윤년이 로마제국 당시 시작 된 것이고 마야 달력이 만들어 진 다음이니까 현재 날짜에서 대략 500일을 빼야하기 때문에, 결국 2012년 12월 지구 종말은 사실 2010년 쯤 일어났어야 한다는 그런 걸 봤는데. 뭐, 그 프로그램을 보지 않았더래도 마야 달력의 지구종말은 20세기 소년의 세계멸망계획보다도 설득력 없긴 했지만. (칸나!!!!)<br />
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어쨌든 끝의 시작은 슬프다. 모든 게 신생아 같았으면 좋으련만. 이 아이는 4살 때 암으로 죽을 걸세, 선고를 받고도 뭐 갖다버리지도 못하겠고, 병원비 마련해야겠다는 생각과 마음의 준비를 해야한다는 모순적인 생각들 속에서 분명한 건 더 이상 약물과 수술로는 암을 멈출수가 없대나 뭐래나. 의욕을 상실한 나는 그저 끄덕끄덕, 아, 그렇군요, 흠흠, 하며 우는 것이 도덕적인지에 대한 생각을 하면서.<br />
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밤엔 Destroyer의 Kaputt이 꽤 괜찮은 것 같다. 노래들이 하도 비슷해서 트랜지션도 전혀 알아차리지 못하겠고 이 노래가 저 노랜지 아니면 아직도 이 노래인지, 그냥 아주 긴 노래를 듣고 있는 것 같아서.<br />
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세수도 안 한 나를 데려다 주면서 차에서 이 앨범을 틀길래 아침부터 갑자기 짜증이 나려고 해서 차 문을 힘껏 닫고 뒤도 안보고 내린 기억이. 플로리다 여름. 그 때도 이런 기분이었지. 게이트에서 한국 사람들 바글바글 하게 모여있는 것을 봤을 때도 끝의 시작인 것 같았는데. 5년 동안 모르는 사람이 내 이름을 정확히 발음했던 기억이 별로 없고, 특히 공공장소에서는 아예 없었던 것 같은데 대한항공 승무원이 마이크를 통해 내 이름을 너무도 정확히 부르는 순간 느꼈던 이질감. 끝.thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-42449385347463820552012-08-06T16:03:00.002+09:002012-10-21T14:03:03.087+09:00Summer 2012<br />
선풍기 전원버튼을 내내 엄지발가락으로 눌렀다가 몇 분 있다 다시 눌렀다가를 반복한다.<br />
엄지 발톱은 빨갛다.<br />
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그저께 계곡에 갔을땐 창피했던 발가락.<br />
메니큐어를 바른지 좀 되서 손톱으로 가운데를 긁어 냈었다. 가장자리는 항상 긁어내기가 어렵다. 남아있는 메니큐어가 창피했었는지, 리무버로 차분히 지우지 못하고 긁어내 버린 내가 창피했었는지, 흐르는 계곡 물에 발을 숨겼다. 하나도 의미 없는 생각을 하다가 물을 마시러 일어난다.<br />
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요즘 물을 자주 마신다. 예전에는 하루에 한 두컵 정도 마시지 않았다. 요즘은 2리터 넘게 마시고 있다. 그래서인지 괜히 몸이 생기 있다는 느낌이 든다. 샤워할 때마다 거울속에 내 몸이 젊다는 걸 더 느끼고 있다. 내 오른쪽 반지 손가락에 있는 문신도 요즘 더 좋아지고 있다. 아무런 의미 없는, 볼펜으로 그린듯한 다이아몬드 반지. 그래도 눈부시게 빛난다. 젊다는 게 새삼 이렇게 눈 부시게 느껴지는 것이 왠지 짜증이 난다.<br />
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책상 위에 뒀던 새콤달콤이 더운 날씨에 말캉말캉하다. 입안에 넣고 씹으니 또 목이 마르다.<br />
계곡 갔다 온 날 밤은 좀 시원했었는데. 옛날 교수님한테 보냈던 메일을 찾다가 마주친 옛 기억이 소름치게 무서워서 시원하게 느껴졌는지도. 남자친구랑 주고 받은 이메일들. 떡, 하니 앉아있었다. 벗어 놓고간 뱀 허물처럼. 한 십 년전에 만났던 사람 같은데 삼 년밖에 지나지 않았다.<br />
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We used to go to this Indian restaurant. There was a server that we liked, he remembered our orders and had a tiny tattoo on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. He stopped working there around the time we broke up. To him, we will always be that couple who love curry and had no issues. Just "more rice."<br />
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서툰 발음으로 나를 '애기'라고 불렀던 그 애. 나한테 자작곡을 써서 불러주던 그 애가 음반을 냈는데, 그 음반을 내가 모르는 친구한테 바친다고 한다. 그 정도로 우리 사이가 멀어진 거다. 은하계들도 아닌데 점점 가속을 내며 서로에게 희미해져가는 그런 사이다, 우리는. 새 여자친구가 생겼다는 말을 들었을 때도 괜찮았는데, 음반을 바칠 정도로 친한 그 애의 친구를 내가 모른다는 게 슬펐다.<br />
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한 때는 내 몸의 일부였던 그 애가 몸에 맞지 않게 되었을 때 나는 미련 없이, 허물 벗 듯 그 애를 벗었다. 그 애는 나한테 "you caught me young," 이라고 했다. 우리같은 사람들은 나이가 들 수록 더 멋져질 수 밖에 없다면서, 나중에 다시 만나게 되더라도 더 좋기만 할테니까 자기는 기다려도 상관이 없다고. 그렇게 말했다. 그마저도 어린 애의 오기였다는 걸 나는 알지만, 그래도 위안이 됐다. 우리가 다시 만나게 될거라는 희망이라기 보다, 내가 나이가 들수록 더 멋있어 질거라는 희망이.<br />
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날은 덥고 새콤달콤은 말랑해도 여전히 맛있고. 한 숨 자야겠다.thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-17441221017889005822012-02-07T07:00:00.004+09:002012-02-29T17:48:16.705+09:00Ophelia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EHX5H_0-SaA/TzBFsmJuMwI/AAAAAAAAATc/M6QefO9vLpM/s1600/1024px-John_Everett_Millais_-_Ophelia_-_Google_Art_Project.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="434" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EHX5H_0-SaA/TzBFsmJuMwI/AAAAAAAAATc/M6QefO9vLpM/s640/1024px-John_Everett_Millais_-_Ophelia_-_Google_Art_Project.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Ophelia by Sir John Everett Millias<br />
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I have a print of this hanging on my closet door which is right next to my bed. So I lie parallel to Ophelia every night. Ophelia is a character from Hamlet and the scene of Kirsten Dunst floating in water in Melancholia is inspired by this painting. Shakespeare-John Everett-Lars Von Trier, now that's pretty cool.thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-41791191575737308682011-12-19T15:12:00.000+09:002011-12-19T15:12:55.672+09:00DecemberMy year of magical thinking is almost over.<br />
Life goes on, but with things and memories and people that I want to share with her.<br />
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RIPthingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-52804729159134091892011-11-20T13:03:00.000+09:002011-11-20T13:03:06.667+09:00Cloudless Snowfall by Franz Wright<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Great big flakes like white ashes</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">at nightfall descending</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">abruptly everywhere</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">and vanishing</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">in this hand like the host</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">on somebody’s put-out tongue, she</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">turns the crucifix over</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">to me, still warm</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">from her touch two years later</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">and thank you,</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I say all alone—</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Vast whisp-whisp of wingbeats</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">awakens me and I look up</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">at a minute-long string of black geese</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">following low past the moon the white</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">course of the snow-covered river and</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">by the way thank You for</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">keeping Your face hidden, I</span><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">can hardly bear the beauty of this world.</span></span></span>thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-300356394947491802011-10-23T09:51:00.002+09:002011-10-23T09:52:14.875+09:00I Wed a Toy Bride by Yi Sang<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mXBVWQ6egWQ/TqNkjx7ctXI/AAAAAAAAATE/1ik7X09hy80/s1600/toybride11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="536" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mXBVWQ6egWQ/TqNkjx7ctXI/AAAAAAAAATE/1ik7X09hy80/s640/toybride11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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This is my favorite Korean poem translated by James Kimbrell.thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-86976293629192320052011-10-04T11:31:00.000+09:002012-10-21T14:05:30.923+09:00October<div>
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One of our favorite movies was Girl with a Pearl Earring. We both adored Vermeer; we read the novel by Tracy Chevalier, and watched the movie one night after my cousin went to bed. She let me take sips of her coffee (3 teaspoons of cream, 2 teaspoons of sugar) and in the middle of the movie, she ran into her room and brought her pearl earrings out and I helped her put them on. She told me that if my ears were pierced, we could have worn one each and both be girls with a pearl earring. </div>
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My aunt, who died before I turned 22, was sad but beautiful like a sugar cube melting in lukewarm water. </div>
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thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-78711361993015960472011-07-06T00:39:00.002+09:002012-04-17T07:19:05.507+09:00The little one from Parma<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zog2YC_pD_A/ThMvD-HS3HI/AAAAAAAAAS8/x2wN2_c6a7U/s1600/Parmigianino-Self-Portrait_in_a_Convex_Mirror-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="624" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zog2YC_pD_A/ThMvD-HS3HI/AAAAAAAAAS8/x2wN2_c6a7U/s640/Parmigianino-Self-Portrait_in_a_Convex_Mirror-1.jpeg" width="640" /></a>I'm not a fan of Parmigianino's most famous work,<i> Madonna with the Long Neck</i>, but I really love this self portrait by him. John Ashbery's epic poem,<i> Self-portrait in a Convex Mirror,</i> is named after this painting and I'm attaching a link to where you can read the award-winning poem(it won all three major Amercian poetry prizes). It really is an extraordinary poem. I once had a dream about it.<br />
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You can find the full text here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/self-portrait-in-a-convex-mirror/thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-11856718386793450562011-06-08T10:27:00.000+09:002011-06-09T03:04:09.078+09:00What I'm into right now<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've been thinking a lot in Korean lately, I don't know why, but it kind of feels nice.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Another interesting Korean word: 청춘 (which means 'blue spring' and often refers to one's early 20s).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I laugh and I grieve and I party and I think and I don't think and I say things I regret and I cry and I feel like dying but I feel young and alive more than ever. I spent this morning being naked in my apartment walking around drinking chai tea and thinking about <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; line-height: 22px; white-space: pre;">"A la recherche de Gertrude Stein" </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px; white-space: pre;">by Frank O'Hara</span>.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That's what I'm into right now: Being young and alive.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Blue spring cool.</span>thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-36569805855797601562011-06-02T12:54:00.000+09:002011-06-03T06:25:46.987+09:00SWINGIN' PARTYIf being afraid is a crime, we hang side by side<br />
at the swinging party down the line.<br />
<br />
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She never ate but drank five cups of coffee everyday. Even when she came to pick me up whenever I called, painted my toes in red every week("it's the only acceptable color on toes") and watched Project Runway with me on lazy afternoons, I could still picture her having affairs with really attractive men.<br />
One day she asked for a picture of me and kept it in her wallet. I sometimes wonder where that picture is right now.<br />
<br />
She hasn't been in a single dream since.<br />
<br />
When she wanted to talk to me about something serious, her voice always brightened up. As if she's trying to be a clown; a clown who wears outlandish makeup and costumes and juggles, walks a tightrope, and does tricks gracefully on a flying trapeze to make his audience forget about gravity. We both knew we were never going to be real astronauts and be in space where there is no gravity, so we kept on being clowns. Trying to convince each other to forget about something.<br />
<br />
I miss her. She became the 'gravity.' Except I don't ever want to forget about it.thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-56479023037274854972011-05-26T16:18:00.001+09:002012-10-21T14:15:07.020+09:00Night (밤)In Korean, we often describe a very late and dark night simply as an 'ambitious night (야심한 밤).'<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So on this ambitious night, I'm sitting on my living room floor, watching Sex and the City, and occasionally dipping my right pinky into a jar of honey (I ran out of apples).</div>
<div>
Cheun-duk Pi, a Korean poet, described May as a fresh twenty-one year old's face right after being washed with cold water. I think about him on some mornings washing my face, and I feel like the month of May <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">(and I blush).</span> </div>
<div>
And I have a sudden urge to drive to the beach and write in the sand<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
得了愛情痛苦 (I have gained, the pain of affection)</div>
<div>
失了愛情痛苦 (I have given up, the pain of affection),<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
lines from a poem by a Chinese poet who died very young. But I will drive back, still young and alive. </div>
thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-5035681790308617112011-05-22T11:06:00.000+09:002012-10-21T12:20:29.156+09:00Takagi Masakatsu Loveas if the world is full of beauty and grace.<br />
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thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-49593088925297404152011-05-21T16:10:00.000+09:002012-10-21T12:21:31.219+09:00Birthmark by Miranday July<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This short story is by Miranda July who is probably the only contemporary female writer that I really like. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 24px;">On a scale of one to ten, with ten being childbirth, this will be a three.</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A three? Really?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yes. That's what they say.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What other things are a three?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, five is supposed to be having your jaw reset. So it's not as bad as that.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What's two?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Having your foot run over by a car.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wow, so it's worse than that?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Just a little worse, not much.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Okay, well, I'm ready. No - wait; let me adjust my sweater.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Okay, I'm ready.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alright then.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here goes a three.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Right. Here we go then.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The laser, which had been described as <em>pure white light,</em> was more like a fist slammed against a countertop, and her body was a cup on this counter, jumping with each slam. It turned out three was just a number. It didn't describe the pain any more than money describes the things it buys. Two thousand dollars for a port-wine stain removed. A kind of birthmark that seems messy and accidental, as if this red area covering one whole cheek were the careless result of too much fun. She spoke to her body like an animal at the vet, <em>Shhh, it's okay, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry we have to do this to you.</em> This is not unusual; most people feel that their bodies are innocent of their crimes, like animals or plants. Not that this was a crime. She had waited patiently from the time she was fourteen for aesthetic surgery to get cheap, like computers. Nineteen ninety-eight was the year lasers came to the people as good bread, eat and be full, be finally perfect. Oh yes, perfect. She didn't think she would have bothered if she hadn't been what people call "very beautiful except for." This is a special group of citizens living under special laws. Nobody knows what to do with them. We mostly want to stare at them like the optical illusion of a vase made out of the silhouette of two people kissing. Now it is vase ... now it could only be two people kissing ... oh but it is so completely a vase. It is both! Can the world sustain such a contradiction. Only this was better, because as the illusion of prettiness and horribleness flipped back and forth, we flipped with it. Now we were uglier than her, now we were lucky not to be her, oh but then again, at this angle she was too lovely to bear. She was both, we were both, and the world continued to spin.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now began the part of her life where she was just very beautiful. Except for nothing. Only winners will know what this feels like. Have you ever wanted something very badly and then gotten it. Then you know that winning is many things, but it is never the thing you thought it would be. Poor people who win the lottery do not become rich people. They become poor people who won the lottery. She was a very beautiful person who was missing something very ugly. Her winnings were the absence of something, and this quality hung around her. There was so much potential in the imagined removal of the birthmark, any fool on the bus could play the game of guessing how perfect she would look without it. Now there was not this game to play, there was just a spent feeling. And she was not an idiot, she could sense it. In the first few months after the surgery she received many compliments, but they were always coupled with confusion.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now you can wear your hair up and show off your face more.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yeah, I'm going to try it that way.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wait, say that again.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm going to try it that way. What?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your little accent is gone.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What accent?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You know, the little Norwegian thing.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Norwegian?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Isn't your mom Norwegian?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She's from Denver.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But you have that little bit of an accent, that little way of saying things.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I do?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well not anymore, it's gone now.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And she felt a real sense of loss. Even though she knew that she had never had an accent. It was just the birthmark, which in its density had lent color to even her voice. She didn't miss the birthmark, but she missed her Norwegian heritage, like learning of new relatives after they have died.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All in all though, this was minor, less disruptive than insomnia (but more severe than déja vu). Over time she knew more and more people who had never known her with the birthmark. And you would assume that these people didn't feel any haunting absence, because why should they. Her husband was one of these people. You could tell by looking at him. Not that he wouldn't have married a woman with a port-wine stain. But he wouldn't have. Most people don't and are none the worse for it. Of course sometimes it would happen that she would see a couple and one of them would have a port-wine stain and the other one would clearly be in love with this person, and she would hate her husband a little. Which was ridiculous because he was innocent. But he wasn't an idiot and so he would notice.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Are you being weird?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You are.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Actually I'm not. I'm just eating my salad.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I can see them too you know. I saw them come in.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hers is worse than mine was. Mine didn't go down on my neck like that.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Do you want to try this soup?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I bet he's an environmentalist. Doesn't he look like one?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Maybe you should go sit with them.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Maybe I will.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I don't see you moving.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Did you just finish the soup?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I thought we were splitting. I offered it to you.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well you can't have any of this salad then.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was a small thing, but it was a thing, and things have a way of either dying or growing, and it wasn't dying. Years went by. This thing grew, like a child, microscopically, every day. And since they were team, and all teams want to win, they continuously adjusted their vision to keep its growth invisible. They wordlessly excused each other for not loving each other as much as they had planned. There were empty rooms in the house where they had meant to put their love and they worked together to fill these rooms with high-end, consumer-grade equipment. It was a tight situation. The next sudden move would have to be through the wall. What happened was this. She was trying to get the lid off a new jar of jam and she was banging it on the counter. This is a well-known tip, a kitchen trick, a bang to loosen the lid. It's not witchery or black magic or anything, it's just a way to release the pressure under the lid. She banged it too hard and the jar broke. She screamed. Her husband came running when he heard the sound. There was red everywhere and in that instant he saw blood. Hallucinatory clarity: you know for sure. But in the next moment your mind relinquishes control, and gives you back to reality; it was jam. Everywhere. She was laughing, picking up the shards of glass out of the strawberry mash. She was laughing at the mess and her face was down, looking at the floor, and her hair was around her face like a curtain and then she looked up at him and said, Can you bring the trash can over here?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And it happened again. For a moment he thought he saw a port-wine stain on her cheek. It was fiercely red and bigger than he had ever imagined. It was bloodier than even blood, like sick blood, animal blood, the blood racist people think beats inside of people of other races: blood that shouldn't touch my own. And the next moment it was just jam and he laughed and rubbed the kitchen towel on her cheek. Her clean cheek. Her port-wine stain.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Honey.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Can you get the trashcan?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Honey.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Go look in the mirror.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Go look in the mirror.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Stop talking like that. Why are you talking like that? What?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He was looking at her cheek and she instinctively put her hand on the mark, and then she ran to bathroom.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She was in there for a long time. Maybe thirty minutes. You've never had thirty minutes like these. She stared at the port-wine stain and she breathed in and she breathed out.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was like being twenty-three again, but she was thirty-eight now. Fifteen years without it, and now, here it was. In exactly the same place. She rubbed her finger around its edges. It came as high as her right eye, over to the edge of her nostril, across her whole cheek to the ear, ending at her jawbone. In purplish-red. She wasn't thinking anything, she wasn't afraid or disappointed or worried. She was just looking at the stain the way you would look at yourself fifteen years after your own death. Oh, you again. Now it was obvious that it had always been there, just around the corner. She had startled it forward, back into sight. She looked into its redness and breathed in and breathed out and found herself in a kind of trance. She thought: I am in a kind of trance. But she didn't try to shake out of it, instead she shallowed her breathing for fear of waking up. In the trance there was one sound and one smell and one sight and one sensation and it was the sound and smell and sight and sensation of her port-wine stain and this stain was her, it was her body. She didn't have to think because plants don't have to think about themselves and weather doesn't have to think about itself, it just blows around. It was this kind of trance, she was just blowing around. It's hard to describe it any more than that, except to say that it lasted about twenty-five minutes. That is a very, very long time just to be blowing around. Mostly you waft for a second or two, a half-second maybe. And then you spend the rest of your life trying to describe it, to regain the perspective. You say: It was like I was just blowing around, and you wave your arms in the air. But there were no arms like that and you know it. It's become this long story you tell about this half-second of your life. Only for her it was twenty-five minutes. Do you understand? Twenty. Five. Minutes. If it could have lasted forever, she would have gladly lived there, inside the stain, a red and limbless world. She came back like a plane taking off, she was no longer in the stain, but looking at it from above. It grew smaller and smaller until it was just a tiny region in a larger mass, one which this pilot favored, hovered above, but would not touch down on again. She pulled some toilet paper off the roll and blew her nose.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He found himself kneeling. He was waiting for her on his knees. He was worried she would not let him love her with the stain. He had already decided, long ago, twenty or thirty minutes ago, that the stain was fine. He had only seen it for a moment but he was already used to it. It was good. It somehow allowed them to have more. They could have a child now, he thought. There was a loose feeling in the air. The jam was still on the floor and that was okay. He would just kneel here and wait for her to come out and hope he would be able to tell her about the looseness in a loose way. He wanted to keep the feeling. He hoped she wasn't removing it somehow, the stain. She should keep it and they should have a kid. He could hear her blowing her nose, now she was opening the door. He would stay on his knees, just like this. She would see him this way and understand.</span></div>
thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-56645498642593587082011-05-17T06:54:00.000+09:002012-10-21T12:23:27.233+09:00Le Corbusier's Notre Dame du HautThis building is the love of my life<br />
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thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-11338468700732236882011-05-16T11:07:00.000+09:002011-05-16T12:26:05.141+09:00DFWIf you're interested, <a href="http://www.believermag.com/issues/200311/?read=interview_wallace"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">here</span></a> is a great David Foster Wallace interview. Long and exhausting, but refreshing and hopeful (maybe this should seem eerie since he was apparrently not very hopeful).<br />
Things are queer.thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-74973279372437921202011-04-24T04:41:00.001+09:002011-04-25T14:40:48.576+09:00Barcelona Pavilion<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tTU7w-Rjcms/TbMrj73QL7I/AAAAAAAAARc/t1l6CLWPuyw/s1600/4871400513.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--n82SVZR7fY/TbOJs_vlyLI/AAAAAAAAASE/LyQm3Li4Csc/s1600/4871400513.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--n82SVZR7fY/TbOJs_vlyLI/AAAAAAAAASE/LyQm3Li4Csc/s640/4871400513.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wCMOIpoE3nk/TbOJFeKZmxI/AAAAAAAAASA/yKjpawtYJJk/s1600/barcelonaaa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="344" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wCMOIpoE3nk/TbOJFeKZmxI/AAAAAAAAASA/yKjpawtYJJk/s640/barcelonaaa.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I can't stop thinking about this building.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I always get really into modern & post-modern architecture around this time of the year. Free plans, floating rooms, less walls, elimination of ornaments, strong spaces built with only the essential elements. It gives me such comfort and hope.</span></div>thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-46044891428501256382011-04-20T04:40:00.000+09:002012-10-21T12:28:07.702+09:00April<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I think about the room</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">from time to time</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">like this morning when I walked outside and said to myself,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"What a lark, what a plunge!"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and I was in the room again with her.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It's April, you know, so I visit her more than usual.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Her body dangling like a heavy flower</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">her neck firmly attached to </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the braided stem</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">waiting for the wind to blow,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">an invisible pair of hands will come and take her down</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the same ones that breed the lilacs out of the dead land.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They found her suicide note in her notepad</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">two weeks after she wore her rope burn around her neck like a</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">halo</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I want to be cremated."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">at first they thought it was a meaningless scribble that meant</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I want to get my make-up done."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Korean words for cremation and make-up are spelled identically)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I'm in the room</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I usually lie on the floor and look up at her face</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">like how I used to, lying down on her couch with my head in her lap </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">while she plucked my eyebrows.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Something's wrong about this angle, with her being so high up</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">but I ask her a question anyways,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Who did you last make love to?"</span></div>
thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-57103344947175568672011-03-25T01:31:00.000+09:002011-03-25T01:32:34.396+09:00wishlistI want more<div>I want new</div><div><div>I want to stop wanting</div></div>thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-88756626802815681562011-02-04T05:16:00.000+09:002011-02-04T05:37:53.545+09:00pleasecome back, and stay until my tears dry up.<div>You left me dreaming of a mermaid when the ocean is absent. </div><div><br /></div><div>R.I.P.</div>thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-9483247701110793362011-01-10T05:08:00.001+09:002011-01-10T13:35:15.425+09:00the cruelest month is here early this year.<div>Last time I talked to her she said her new favorite word is 'serendipity.'</div><div>R.I.P.</div><div><br /></div><div>Even the saddest eyes will dry one day. I hope so.</div>thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6701580108622787818.post-80964594815824784632010-12-09T01:20:00.001+09:002010-12-30T02:59:56.601+09:00Rhythm of lonelinessI unlock the door and walk into my apartment. <div>Put down my purse and take off my rings and clothes, I do not bother hanging them in my closet.</div><div>I lie down (or lay myself down) on the living room floor,</div><div>my head and my body feels so heavy and distant</div><div>that I almost feel like I could convince myself that I'm dead.</div><div>But it doesn't go away.</div><div>I roll around-right, right, left, swing my legs and arms, </div><div>my eyelids up and down, atmosphere opens and closes</div><div>but it doesn't go away.</div><div>I walk over to the fridge and take out the orange juice and drink it right out of the carton.</div><div>A simple, mindless gesture becomes a </div><div>reassurance that I'm the only person who will ever drink this orange juice,</div><div><br /></div><div>here we go again.</div>thingsarequeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16836705533898702659noreply@blogger.com0