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Le fabuleux destin de Lille

Name:
calamities and umbrellas
Birthdate:
2 August 1977
Website:
Etsy
Buy Handmade
calamitylill


all written text and photography* © 1995-2007 any unauthorized reproduction is prohibited. violators may be strung up and disemboweled.
*including icons

inside the journal are my words, out here, theirs do well.

on color scheme:
"There are other colors, pink for instance: pink is supposed to weaken your enemies, make them go soft on you, which must be why it's used for baby girls. It's a wonder the military hasn't got on to this. Pale-pink helmets, with rosettes, a whole battalion, onto the beachhead, over the top in pink. Now is the time for me to make the switch, I could use a little pink right now."
~margaret atwood
cat's eye


on journaling and content:
"Writing is a solitary sport that defies solitude. Even that most solipsistic form of scribbling, a private diary or journal, ultimately demands an audience to aquire cultural relevance."
~Cecil Leslie Bothwell III

"The diary deals always with the immediate present, the warm, the near, being written at while heat develops a love of the living moment. One thing is very clear - that both diary and fiction tend toward the same goal: intimate contact with people, with experiences, with life itself."
~Anais Nin

"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep."
- Salman Rushdie

"'But it isn't Easy,' said Pooh to himself... 'Because Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. And all you can do is go where they can find you.'"
~The House at Pooh Corner

on the personality herself:
"How come I can pick my friends, but not my enemies? So what is it about me that offends? What is it about me? You know I'm only 5 foot 2 and I'm giggly, wiggly...tell me again what did I do, why are you scared of me? I'm not going to pretend that I don't pick my nose. That's just the way it is my friend, that's just the way it goes. This is who I am, what I do and what I say. If you like it let it be. If you don't just say, I fight with love and I laugh with rage. You gotta live light enough to see the humor and long enough to see some change." ... "I say if you're born a lion, don't bother trying to act tame."
~ani difranco

"My, my," said Maude, lying back on the grass. "I feel I could evaporate."
Harold fell alongside her. "You'd turn into one of those clouds," he said. "I think you'd be a nice cloud. You could float around the skies all day."
"No, not me," said Maude. "I'd be a very bad cloud. I'd always want to dissolve into rain."
~~~
"Look!" said Harold, pointing. "A shooting star!"
"I saw it," said Maude. "My, my. There's always an oddball, even in the firmament."
Harold looked up at the stars. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"
"Yes. They're old friends. I used to watch them in Bavaria. They can be very ... comforting."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, for example, I used to look up and think that light traveling from a distant star would take over a million years to reach us. In a million years Nature evolved the wing of a bird. So, maybe by the time that light reaches us, mankind will have learned to deal with evil. Maybe he will have phased it out altogether, and we'll all be flying around... like angels."
Harold smiled. "You should have been a poet."
"Oh, no!" cried Maude. "But I should have liked to be an astronaut. A private astronaut, able to just go out and explore the unknown. Like the men who sailed with Magellan. I want to see if we really can fall off the edge of the world." She laughed. "What a joke it will be," she said, making a large circle with her candy apple, "if, like them, I end up where I began."
~~~
"Oh, Harold." She sighed, stroking his hair. "You are so young. What have they taught you?" She brushed away the tears that fell down her cheeks. "Yes. I cry. I cry for you. I cry for this. I cry at beauty--a sunset or a seagull. I cry when a man tortures his brother... when he repents and begs for forgiveness... when forgiveness is refused... and when it is granted. One laughs. one cries. Two uniquely human traits. And the main thing in life, my dear Harold, is not to be afraid to be human."
~harold and maude

SO, IS SHE OR ISN'T SHE?
IS SHE OR ISN'T SHE WHAT?
A PHONY.
NO. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T THINK SO.
YOU DON'T, HUH? WELL, YOU'RE WRONG. SHE IS. BUT ON THE OTHER HAND, YOU'RE RIGHT, BECAUSE SHE'S A REAL PHONY. SHE HONESTLY BELIEVES ALL THIS PHONY JUNK. NOW, I SINCERELY LIKE THE KID. I DO. I'M SENSITIVE, THAT'S WHY. YOU GOT TO BE SENSITIVE TO LIKE THE KID. IT'S A STREAK OF THE POET.
~Breakfast at Tiffany's

J'aime mon petit chou, phytophiliac!


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Quiet Mutual 2 chains No 1-hop
Coded by sachmet



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