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I just thought it could make a really cool movie. It's not that it's just a buddy comedy but it's all about two guys hating each other and towards the end they're good friends. I liked that these two guys were best friends from the very beginning, and they're crazy. ↗
Kita perlu jatuh cinta atau patah hati untuk dapat membuat puisi yang bagus. ↗
#patah-hati #puisi #cinta
Kadang aku merasa sudah dekat dengan kegilaan. Kamu tahu apa yang paling menyakitkan saat perasaanmu begitu terikat kepada seseorang? Bukan karena kamu tidak bisa menyatu dengan dia maka kamu akan merasa hidupmu begitu nestapa. Sesuatu yang lebih meluluhlantakkan hatimu adalah ketika seseorang -yang menyandera kemampuanmu untuk memiliki itu- tak melibatkan lagi namamu dalam hidupnya, tidak mengingat tanggal lahirmu, tidak mengucapkan apapun ketika datang tahun baru, bahkan tidak mengirimkan pesan basa-basi pada hari perayaan agamamu. Kamu tidak terlibat sama sekali dalam hidupnya. Bahkan sekadar untuk diingat. ↗
#gila #hidup #ingat #ingatan #patah-hati
There is a bench in the back of my garden shaded by Virginia creeper, climbing roses, and a white pine where I sit early in the morning and watch the action. Light blue bells of a dwarf campanula drift over the rock garden just before my eyes. Behind it, a three-foot stand of aconite is flowering now, each dark blue cowl-like corolla bowed for worship or intrigue: thus its common name, monkshood. Next to the aconite, black madonna lilies with their seductive Easter scent are just coming into bloom. At the back of the garden, a hollow log, used in its glory days for a base to split kindling, now spills white cascade petunias and lobelia. I can't get enough of watching the bees and trying to imagine how they experience the abundance of, say, a blue campanula blosssom, the dizzy light pulsing, every fiber of being immersed in the flower. ... Last night, after a day in the garden, I asked Robin to explain (again) photosynthesis to me. I can't take in this business of _eating light_ and turning it into stem and thorn and flower... I would not call this meditation, sitting in the back garden. Maybe I would call it eating light. Mystical traditions recognize two kinds of practice: _apophatic mysticism_, which is the dark surrender of Zen, the Via Negativa of John of the Cross, and _kataphatic mysticism_, less well defined: an openhearted surrender to the beauty of creation. Maybe Francis of Assissi was, on the whole, a kataphatic mystic, as was Thérèse of Lisieux in her exuberant momemnts: but the fact is, kataphatic mysticism has low status in religious circles. Francis and Thérèse were made, really made, any mother superior will let you know, in the dark nights of their lives: no more of this throwing off your clothes and singing songs and babbling about the shelter of God's arms. When I was twelve and had my first menstrual period, my grandmother took me aside and said, 'Now your childhood is over. You will never really be happy again.' That is pretty much how some spiritual directors treat the transition from kataphatic to apophatic mysticism. But, I'm sorry, I'm going to sit here every day the sun shines and eat this light. Hung in the bell of desire. ↗
#gardens #kataphatic #menstruation #mysticism #photosynthesis
You are so sweet. This is unbelievable. Some schmo talks to you every two weeks, buys you a meal, during which he talks about himself, dry-humps you, touches your hand once and you think he smells like roses. Maybe he is a white knight on a steed, who will carry you off into the future, so you can live happily ever after and, finally, maybe get it on. ↗
#eden #man-hating #men #naive #men
