not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Monday, April 29, 2013

inside the exceptional two thousand breakfasts


  1. i've posted this poem before:

    Highlights and Interstices by jack gilbert

    We think of lifetimes as mostly the exceptional
    and sorrows. Marriage we remember as the children,
    vacations, and emergencies. The uncommon parts.
    But the best is often when nothing is happening.
    The way a mother picks up the child almost without
    noticing and carries her across Waller Street
    while talking with the other woman. What if she
    could keep all of that? Our lives happen between
    the memorable. I have lost two thousand habitual
    breakfasts with Michiko. What I miss most about
    her is that commonplace I can no longer remember.

  2. This, after reading James's glorious poem about his father. Why do we remember what we do? How does our subconscious attach itself to certain memories?

    I was talking with my Thai sister on the weekend. She moved in with us when I was 13 and she was 15. Now she is married and going through life-altering trauma with her husband. They tell us: having you here with us for the weekend is the sanity we need. Just sitting, being, talking, eating, staring. Our daily lives where nothing much is "accomplished."

  3. breakfast or many other are you Tiny Leaf?

  4. are we our memories or to be free we need to forget out memories...

    love this post Erin

  5. I come back to tell you how much I love this image. xoxo

  6. living with attention
    and loving)))
    and living and loving and weeping and dying and living

    every blessed sunlit fragment~

    (we move to a house and i return to work and am regretfully too busy with the lesser things in life but try to hold to the light)



"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))