These are things I think about in order to stay alive in Los Angeles.

email me: elizabeth.c.wilcox at gmail.com

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9th July 2009

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“Single men find this soothing,” said Mitsuo Takahashi of the manufacturer Trane KK.

He told AFP that the Hizamakura, or lap pillow, fulfilled a primal need.

“From the time people were kids, people have laid their heads on their mothers’ laps to get their ears cleaned.”

9th July 2009

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"A Pit, A Broken Jaw, A Fever," by Mary Walker Graham

When I say pit, I’m thinking of a peach’s. As in James and the Giant, as in: the night has many things for a girl to imagine. The way the flesh of the peach can never be extricated, but clings— the fingers follow the juice. The tongue proceeds along the groove. Dark peach: become a night cavern— an ocean’s inside us— a balloon for traveling over. When I said galleons of strong arms without heads, I meant natives, ancient. I meant it takes me a long time to get past the hands of men; I can barely get to their elbows. How a twin bed can become an anchor. How a balloon floating up the stairwell can become a person. Across the sea of the hallway then, I floated. I hung to the flourescent fixtures in the bathroom, I saw a decapitated head on the toilet. I’ll do anything to keep from going in there. I only find the magazines under the mattress, the Vaseline in the headboard cabinet. A thought so hot you can’t touch it. A pit. A broken jaw. A fever.

9th July 2009

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bikerfish:pleasedontsqueezetheshaman:

Girl From The North Country - Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan

I can’t not reblog this.

8th July 2009

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"There Are Trains Which Will Not Be Missed," by Denis Johnson


They tell you if you write great poems
you will be lifted into the clouds
like a leaf which did not know

this was possible, you will never
hear of your darkness
again, it will become
holy, look,

they say, at the emptiness
of train tracks and it is poetry
growing up like flowers between
the ties,  but those

who say this
are not in control of themselves
or of anything and they must

lie to you in order
that they may at night not bear witness
to such great distances cascading and such

eternities unwinding
around them as to cause even the most powerful
of beds to become silences, it

is death which continues
over these chasms and these
distances deliberately like a train.

8th July 2009

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walkwhilereading:

I think if this was on the back of a t-shirt I owed, I’d wear it everyday of my life. Sweetness. [via great blog]

I am not usually a sucker for anything that even parades itself momentarily as an “inspirational quote,” but I. Fucking. Love. Denis Johnson.

8th July 2009

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scottgairdner:

Me + lots of dummies + the early 80s + Invisible Engine + Team Tiger Awesome + explosions = you be the judge.

I … I don’t even know how to express my love for this in words. Also, Brad’s death made me laugh REALLY hard.

8th July 2009

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Of Montreal - Rose Robert

Few will dare to offer any pleasantries
or see how we fare.
I guess they assume that we have lost our wits
but we’re just a couple of misfits
me and my Rose Robert.

7th July 2009

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I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
— Samuel Taylor Coleridge, from “Kubla Khan”

7th July 2009

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PhotoAlt} Coleridge’s draft of “Kubla Khan”

6th July 2009

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Inevitable-random-chain-of-events deaths never get old, especially the Six Feet Under ones.