Current Activities.- Studying math.
- Swimming and singing.
Poems I like.
She kept her songs, they took so little space, The covers pleased her: One bleached from lying in a sunny place, One marked in circles by a vase of water, One mended, when a tidy fit had seized her, And coloured, by her daughter — So they had waited, till, in widowhood She found them, looking for something else, and stood Relearning how each frank submissive chord Had ushered in Word after sprawling hyphenated word, And the unfailing sense of being young Spread out like a spring-woken tree, wherein That hidden freshness sung, That certainty of time laid up in store As when she played them first. But, even more, The glare of that much-mentioned brilliance, love, Broke out, to show Its bright incipience sailing above, Still promising to solve, and satisfy, And set unchangeably in order. So To pile them back, to cry, Was hard, without lamely admitting how It had not done so then, and could not now. -- Philip Larkin ADMONITIONS TO A SPECIAL PERSON Watch out for friends, because when you betray them, as you will, they will bury their heads in the toilet and flush themselves away. Watch out for love (unless it is true, and every part of you says yes including the toes), it will wrap you up like a mummy, and your scream won't be heard and none of your running will end. Special person, if I were you I'd pay no attention to admonitions from me, made somewhat out of your words and somewhat out of mine. I do not believe a word I have said, except some, except I think of you like a young tree with pasted-on leaves and know you'll root and the real green thing will come. -- Anne Sexton* I can't go into the meaning of the dream except to say a sense of total loss afflicted me thereof: an absolute disappearance of continuity & love and children away at school, the weight of the cross, and everything is what it seems. -- John Berryman* Die Einsamkeit ist wie ein Regen. Sie steigt vom Meer den Abenden entgegen; von Ebenen, die fern sind und entlegen, geht sie zum Himmel, der sie immer hat. Und erst vom Himmel fält sie auf die Stadt. Regnet hernieder in den Zwitterstunden, wenn sich nach Morgen wenden alle Gassen und wenn die Leiber, welche nichts gefunden, enttäuscht und traurig von einander lassen; und wenn die Menschen, die einander hassen, in einem Bett zusammen schlafen müssen: dann geht die Einsamkeit mit den Flüsen... -- Rilke THE SICK ROSE O rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. -- Blake We have two wooded acres there, very narrow, with waterfront. Dad built himself a small "shack" as he called it to be as far away from the family noise as possible. That way he could work to his heart's content and not interfere with the noisy comings and goings of the likes of my brother and me and our friends. It was not wired for electricity, so when it was late or dark or stormy, he would light his kerosene lanterns and keep pounding away on his typewriter. Daddy would surface when he wanted company or diversion, have a swim and sail in the late afternoon. Or he might climb into his canoe with a handful of reprints, and paddle upwind on our small lake. He would sit down in the bottom of the canoe, get out his reading, and just coast as far as he could until it became necessary to disengage himself from lily pads or someone's mooring. -- Quine's daughter * Edited by me