No Great Illusion

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My writing here.

Send me a letter: nogreatillusion [at] gmail [dot] com

Jaymay - Gray Or Blue

emes:

i B on that cute jangly shit forever ♥‿♥

An old favorite.

“Everything has already been said and done. But, then, if this is so, why do we need more poems in the world? I once read a Jane Hirshfield interview where she said something quite wonderful. She essentially said we have to keep writing because it’s every generation’s job to put in the present vernacular poems that are called upon for rites of passage, such as poems read at weddings or funerals. I hadn’t thought of this before. Your ordinary citizen should be able to go to the library and find a poem written in the current vernacular, and the responsibility for every generation of writers is to make this possible. We must, then, rewrite everything that has ever been written in the current vernacular, which is really what the evolution of literature is all about. Nothing new gets said but the vernacular keeps changing.”

—   Mary Ruefle (via austinkleon)

sarazucker:

after an astoundingly quick recovery from a major warehouse fire, asos has some big news for the 9-to-5 woman — its white collection will join the retailer’s petite and curve labels to supplement a career-driven wardrobe. happy shopping, workaholics!

“My idea of rich is that you can buy every book you ever want without looking at the price and you’re never around assholes. That’s the two things to really fight for in life.”

—   John Waters  (via detailsdetales)

(Source: marion--crane, via bathtubginrummy)

Catfish is a genius show, you guys. It can be funny, but rarely at the expense of its characters. It’s funny because people are hilarious, yearning, loving, hopeful things reaching out to each other across continents, and sometimes it’s funny to see that laid so bare. Every villain is allowed to be complicated, every dupe is treated with dignity, and every story reminds us that we are human beings with faults. We are gullible, we are liars, we are falling in love with strangers, but we are all just trying so hard to be understood.

I would like Nev and Max to host every single TV show I watch, pulling characters aside to counsel them, giving tough love, befriending parents with their blindingly white smiles, and googling shit from the comfort of their interchangeable 3 star hotel rooms. 

[A]nd the world
Whirls green on a string, then
The leaves go quiet, wink
From their own shade, secretly.

Keep still, just a moment, leaves.

There is something I am trying to remember.

—   Robert Penn Warren, from “2. Deciduous Spring,” in section II “Love: Two Vignettes” of “Delight,” Tale of Time: Poems 1960-1966, in The Collected Poems of Robert Penn Warren, ed. John Burt (Louisiana State University Press, 1998)

(Source: memoryslandscape, via othernotebooksareavailable)

“You are the one i’d let go the other loves for,
surrender my one-woman house.
Allow you red wine in bed,
even with my vintage lace linens.
Maybe. Maybe.

For you.”

—   Sandra Cisneros, “You Bring Out the Mexican in Me”(via hush-syrup)

(via lifeinpoetry)

“This is not your problem. You have your own body to deal with. The lamp by the bed is broken. You are feeling things he’s no longer in touch with. And everyone is speaking softly, so as not to wake one another. The wind knocks the heads of the flowers together. Steam rises from every cup at every table at once. Things happen all the time, things happen every minute that have nothing to do with us.”

—   Richard Siken, “A Primer for the Small Weird Loves” (via rhymine)

(via othernotebooksareavailable)

“Basically, I realized I was living in that awful stage of life between twenty-six and thirty-seven known as stupidity. It’s when you don’t know anything, not even as much as you did when you were younger, and you don’t even have a philosophy about all the things you don’t know, the way you did when you were twenty or would again when you were thirty-eight.”

—   Lorrie Moore, Anagrams (via slaughterhouse90210)

(via captainsunbeam)

nomadicphoto:

Ronyca - Williamsburg, NY.

by Emmanuel Afolabi

“Aren’t there enough words
flowing in your veins
to keep you going.”

—   Margaret Atwood, from “The Shadow Voice” (via the-final-sentence)

(Source: growing-orbits, via lifeinpoetry)