A Word for Living Creatures

- beginning with a line from Paul Celan's "The Meridian"
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h-ngm-n:

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Like looking over our shoulder at what’s onscreen, an RSS-feed powered by the brains behind H_NGM_N: here’s a sampling of what made it on our radar last week.

What I mean here is that you have to remain committed to the ultimate goal, which isn’t to win the immediate approval of the online…

instagram:

A World of Childhood Fantasy in Narni, Italy

For more enchanting photos and videos from Narni, Italy, explore the Narni location page and browse the #Narni hashtag.

There are stunning similarities between the real-life town of Narni and the fictional world of Narnia: blazing green hills, clear blue skies and picturesque stone structures.

In fact, the classic fantasy series The Chronicles of Narnia, written by C.S. Lewis in 1950, is rumored to have been inspired by this small Italian town 50 miles north of Rome. According to biographer Walter Hooper, Lewis was fascinated by ancient history, and Narni—named “Narnia” in Roman times—was highlighted by the children’s author in his personal atlas.

Whether Lewis visited Narni has never been confirmed, but even today, its cobblestone streets and castle fortress look like they belong in a magical, medieval novel. And while there are no mythical, talking creatures roaming the land, Narni still feels like a place pulled straight out of our childhood imaginations.

I’ve probably shared this song before, but it’s just that good.

You ache with loneliness one night / So much you weep // And I say, // Here’s a rope, / Tie it around me. - Hafiz, “The Gift”

Let me tie myself to you, 
my beloved, let me tie myself.

Let me hold you in the night 
and kiss away your tears.

Let me replace your weeping 
with laughter, fill your heart with songs.

I will do all these things, my beloved, 
I will do all these things

if you only will
let me tie myself to you.

Year after year we watched him push himself beyond what we could possibly imagine. You had to try to keep up with the guy—it only seemed fair.
I never thought that I’d be discovered. I just thought I’d be somebody who was a hard worker. For me, things started to happen once I completely gave up the concept of being discovered. I discovered what I wanted to do. That would be my advice to young performers: don’t want to be famous. Want to be legendary. In many ways, fame is the industrial disease of creativity. It’s a sludgy byproduct of making things.

best-lovequotes: Okay, I’d probably melt if someone did this for me. Just saying.

do it yourself | Tumblr on We Heart It.

(via bookoisseur)

It went down like this, sir: a tumble in the sheets, pardon the expression, sir, a tumble, 
a tumble, a tumble in 
the dryer is off its hinges, the door is coming free, do you see us, sir, 
do you see us tumbling around and around, the scarlet
blossoming across the sheet
wending its way around you and me,

your threat gleaming white
in the moonlight.

I’m sorry, no, sir, no, it didn’t happen that way. It happened this way. Give me a new, yellow
legal pad, sir, and I’ll make my true confession: you’re standing naked
in the glow of orange streetlight, your mouth a black hole, you’re melting in the fluorescent, 
you’re saying save me, you’re saying I’m melting, I’m saying I can’t, I’m saying 
nothing, I’m standing and watching, standing and watching, listening

to the siren wail its warning
about tornados and melting into you - 

Or, sir, no, I’m sorry, no, we trip the light fantastic, we stumble over each other’s shoes, my Mary Janes scuffed red, we play songs on the jukebox, we play songs until they kick us out, I say I’ll never forget 
this night, you say I will, I turn away, you jerk me back, cuddle and pull, this yoyo of walk the dog 
again and again, my Mary Janes, one, two, hitting the floor, glittering red in the moonlight, 
the heap of clothes, and somewhere

a siren, your arm flung
across a white canvas.

Fahrenheit 451.

(via bookoisseur)

blackballoonpublishing:

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I used to say I didn’t care about publication. I used to sit in smoky bars with my nose in the air and insist to anyone who would listen that writing should be about the art. That was a defense mechanism. In the privacy of my own home, I’d stay up into the…