perfection in the being
of my being,
that I am
holy in amness
as stars or paperclips,
that the universe,
moving from void to void,
pours in and out
there is a point,
that fills space,
that is plenitude:
a void that is all being,
a being that is void:
I am perfect:
the wind is perfect:
ditchwater, running, is perfect:
I raise my hand
I live in a town where every six months I get the chance to hear a band I’m really excited about, the last one was the Horrors in November, the next one was to be the Besnard Lakes. I’ve known about this for ages, only tonight I realised the show was this past saturday. I just forgot about it… and now it’s all I can think about. It was four days ago! Where have I been these days? How could have I forgotten that?? Now I’ve got to wait another six months before another band I’m remotely curious about comes to town and even then I’ll probably forget to get my ass to the show. Anyway, it’s done, let’s not dwell on it. But I can be so stupid sometimes.
Do not try to “find yourself,” you must make yourself. Choose what you want to find meaningful and live, create, love, hate, cry, destroy, fight and die for it. Do not let your life and your values and you actions slip easily into any mold, other that that which you create for yourself, and say with conviction, “This is who I make myself.”
Do not give in to hope. Remember that nothing you do has any significance beyond that with which you imbue it. Whatever you do, do it for its own sake. When the universe looks on with indifference, laugh, and shout back, “Fuck You!” Remember that to fight meaninglessness is futile, but fight anyway, in spite of and because of its futility.
The world may be empty of meaning, but it is a blank canvas on which to paint meanings of your own. Live deliberately. You are free.” —(via fuckyeahexistentialism)
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.