Sin Título

“Stars must die so that I can live. I stepped out of a supernova”

Those who dream without doing are as _______ as those who do without dreaming.

The man who was the boy raised on nothing (everything)

Everyone has so much to say They talk, talk, talk their lives away Don’t even hesitate Walking on down to the burial ground It’s a very old dance with a merry old sound Looks like its on today

Kiss me o wind,
as you cut me,
so that we can
fulfill my deepest
S&M fantasies.

It hurts so good.
I took a walk down
Broadway on a
misty morning,
a story for another day.

I’ve found that no matter
how large the sunglasses
I wear, I cannot hide
my emotions. A face mask
is in order.

WHAM

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My name is Barry Soetoro.

I am a third-grade student at SD Asisi.

My mom is my idol.

My teacher is Ibu Fer. I have a lot of friends.

I live near the school. I usually walk to the school with my mom, then go home by myself.

Someday I want to be president. I love to visit all the places in Indonesia.

Done. The eeeeeeend.

❖

all is but a child’s game, and we never stopped dreaming down

It’s just that…how am I supposed to talk about what I don’t understand?

Sometimes you’re nice, and sometimes you’re yourself.

‘I may dress flash, but I’m no faggot…I do, however, think you’re simply stunning.. ‘I’m the No. 1 male groupie in the United States. Last year I had a thing with Mick Jagger. But it wasn’t a physical thing—it was all mental. Me and Mick just lay there and talked all night. I’m not gay or bisexual. I’m just glamorous.’”

❖

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.
Literature should not disappear up its own asshole, so to speak.That is my principal objection to life, I think: It’s too easy, when alive, to make perfectly horrible mistakes.I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.
There’s only one rule that I know of, babies—God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question…. 10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo. — an elderly french dame recited this to me outside of a stamp shop today. She understood the rhythm, and moreover made me appreciate it; she dances flamenco too.

❖