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the pity pool is poisoned ): [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

damned by the exist ential moment where
we saw the cou ple in the coma and
it was we who were cli ché, but we carried on anyway

Rhett Butler said - [Apr. 29th, 2013|10:20 pm]
"You know, Scarlett, I think you're on the verge of a crying jag."
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(no subject) [Jun. 26th, 2012|05:25 pm]
Vincent: It's funny. You work so hard. You do everything you can to get away from a place, and when you finally get your chance to leave, you find a reason to stay. A year is a long time.
Irene: Not so long, just once around the sun.
  -Gattaca (1997)  
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(no subject) [May. 22nd, 2012|07:54 pm]

And you said: All the money in the world
Won't buy a bed so big and wide
To guarantee that you won't accidentally touch me in the night.
Then I said: You must be right

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(no subject) [Dec. 16th, 2011|09:10 pm]
I phoned Midori.

"I have to talk to you," I said. "I have a million things to talk to you about. A million things we have to talk about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning."

Midori responded with a long, long silence - the silence of all the misty rain in the world falling on all the new-mown lawns of the world. Forehead pressed against the glass, I shut my eyes and waited. At last, Midori's quiet voice broke the silence: "Where are you now?"

Where was I now?

Gripping the receiver, I raised my head and turned to see what lay beyond the phone box. Where was I now? I had no idea. No idea at all. Where was this place? All that flashed into my eyes were the countless shapes of people walking by to nowhere. Again and again I called out for Midori from the dead centre of this place that was no place.

-Haruki Murakami,
Norwegian Wood
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(no subject) [Oct. 16th, 2010|12:47 am]

Sylvia Plath

Tea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,
designing futures where nothing will occur:
cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning she
will still predict no perils left to conquer.
Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knight
finds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheard
of, while blasé princesses indict
tilts at terror as downright absurd.

The beast in Jamesian grove will never jump,
compelling hero’s dull career to crisis;
and when insouciant angels play God’s trump,
while bored arena crowds for once look eager,
hoping toward havoc, neither pleas nor prizes
shall coax from doom’s blank door lady or tiger.
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