many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. what then kills love? only this: neglect. not to see you when you stand before me. not to think of you in the little things. not to make the road wide for you, the table spread for you. to choose you out of habit not desire, to pass the flower seller without a thought. to leave the dishes unwashed, the bed unmade, to ignore you in the mornings, make use of you at night. to crave another while pecking your cheek. to say your name without hearing it, to assume it’s mine to call.
gah. jeanette winterson. written on the body. a book i clearly need to read again.
i’m feeling all weepy now. what made me pick up this book this morning? i have too much to do to be like this. the nimrod variation is not helping. i can’t believe this was susan’s wedding march. it must have been a slow crawl down the aisle. but god. it’s so gorgeous. it’s odd to me that the british should be such amazing composers. maybe it shouldn’t surprise me… all that repressed passion has to find a release somewhere. i can’t believe i was conducting this in class only months ago. i need to practice. i need to sing. it’s been too long. my poor, neglected voice.
wow, i’m beyond rambling now. i just don’t quite know what to do with myself right now. maybe i ought to go for a walk. but it’s such a grey, wet day out there. maybe i’ll go wash the dishes, make the bed. buy rachael some flowers.
gah. jeanette winterson. written on the body. a book i clearly need to read again.
i’m feeling all weepy now. what made me pick up this book this morning? i have too much to do to be like this. the nimrod variation is not helping. i can’t believe this was susan’s wedding march. it must have been a slow crawl down the aisle. but god. it’s so gorgeous. it’s odd to me that the british should be such amazing composers. maybe it shouldn’t surprise me… all that repressed passion has to find a release somewhere. i can’t believe i was conducting this in class only months ago. i need to practice. i need to sing. it’s been too long. my poor, neglected voice.
wow, i’m beyond rambling now. i just don’t quite know what to do with myself right now. maybe i ought to go for a walk. but it’s such a grey, wet day out there. maybe i’ll go wash the dishes, make the bed. buy rachael some flowers.
