Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
First it was Primary, then Secondary (when I got a green coat) but after looking through lots of magazines full of autumn goodness it's changed again.
Lime, mint & coral. Two of which are colours someone with pale skin, ginger hair & a tendency to go red when at all hot; should probably avoid at all costs.
But screw it, come September I promise an outfit composed of all three!
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
- The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anasthetic from which none come round.
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small, unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good:
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can't escape,
Yet can't accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
But introducing my lovely gorgeous garden/balcony! Complete with a colour spectrum of flowers
What do you think of my new necklace? My friend Jesus gave me the leg charms because my nickname's Legs...
See you on the other side
Things I want
And is it really wrong that I'm seriously considering asking someone Swedish to go & buy me underwear from Monki if I give them the money?
Also kind of overly obsessed with this Dagmar dress that I saw Susie Bubble wearing last month & haven't actually been able to get out of my head. How heart stoppingly beautiful is it?
Oh & excitement over issue 16 of BFR mag which I did a page for. If you don't know of Barbara Frankie & her wonderful zine & blog already then I suggest you head over & read.
Anyway my dears, having taken on extra time at work to earn some Paris (possibly New York !?@£U$^£) spending money & forcing myself to actually pretend to do some art work over summer, my blogging might be a little sporadic over the next month or so. I'm doing a summer camp in America all of August...hence the possibly New York, but there's no time! Must be back in time for Reading... Anyway why do you care about my summer plans?
I'll set up some scheduled posts & all will be restored in the wonderful internet world.
Cats Sleep Anywhere
by Eleanor Farjeon
Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.
Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.
Open draw, empty shoe, anybody's lap will do.
Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.
Anywhere! They don't care! Cats sleep anywhere.
Spent the weekend trying to cram read Angela Carter, visiting exhibitions, watching Breaking Bad on the internet (bad I know, but where else could we see series 3?) & searching for vintage shops in Paris. Have a giant list composed of writing them from books at work & TFS.
Do you have any tips? I would ADORE some advice from someone who's been recently. I know my basics like Free P Star, Come on Eileen, Kiliwatch & the markets (Vanves, Ouen & Clignancourt) but have been searching for less 'obvious' but sure ones...
Also can't get this song out of my head. Old but still good:
The Life & Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentlemen
By Lawrence Sterne
One of the first postmodern books. It's a challenge
& a half but well worth the effort if you're into this kind
of thing... A Cock & Bull Story was based on it.
Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man
by Bill Clegg
Memoir of the notorious literary agent with the monster
of all cocaine addictions. Have you read A Million Tiny
Pieces? If not you should, but I figure this'll be along the
same lines... Although maybe Oprah will stay away this
time. I like books about drugs ok?!
The New Decor at Southbank/the Hayward Gallery
Collection of 30 artists who do interior design inspired
installations. It's more art though. This thing below by
Monica Bonvicini was a highlight but it was all good
Hussein Chalayan at the Lisson Gallery
He is perhaps by absolute favorite designer and I
pretty much fell madly in love with him after seeing his
exhibition at the design museum. So I CAN'T WAIT to
see what he does here. I will tell all once I've been
Sorry for the disjointed post. Running out the door to buy flowers to fuel my new gardening obsession (will post pics when it's more perfect!) & then too work & I've got too many thoughts now this summer things started & I have been left to entertain myself.
What have you been up too?