“It’s Joy.”

In Uncategorized on September 1, 2015 at 21:27

We’re five beer bottles in already, when she asked, “So, how about you—who’s the dominant emotion playing in you right now?” “Hmmm… You mean out of the five emotions in Inside Out—Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Disgust?” I asked. She plastered on a satisfying smile as if knowing already my answer to her question and said, “Well, yeah… So which one is it?” The crease on my forehead soon leveled out. I returned the smile, and without a hint of hesitation I replied, “It’s Joy.” There weren’t any discussion that followed. Instead she just nodded in pure affirmation and satisfaction, looking at me with eyes that seem to articulate, “Great, just what I want to hear.”

Get Drunk ~ Charles Baudelaire

In Uncategorized on February 23, 2015 at 13:19

Blind to Bounds

Always be drunk.
That’s it!
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time’s horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
Get drunk and stay that way.
On what?
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
or rolls
or sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock
will answer you:
“Time to get drunk!
Don’t be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk!
Stay drunk!
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!”
~ Charles Baudelaire.

Painting by De La Cruz: “….where paint explodes out of…

View original post 5 more words

Late Night Thought

In Late Night Thoughts, Personal on February 23, 2015 at 00:23

Plunged in the middle of the sea’s insanity, the nerves under this fleshy exterior is awakened by the coldness of the saline. It’s invigorating. It’s exciting. It’s adrenaline-building. Every weight of me hauled back and forth in the middle of the waves’ game of tug-of-war, each wave crashing against the body’s fragility, each force creating an even larger crack than it already has. But as the sea loses more of its control, I start to do the same— allowing the hungry waves to swallow me whole—allowing the whole of my being be wrapped by the waves’ enormity. And in the very few seconds before the water can ever fill my lungs, for some odd reason, I find something freeing.