So it goes.

Cristian King. San Diego raised. San Francisco educated. Current Seattle resident.

“I exist in two places,
here and where you are.”

—   Margaret Atwood, Selected Poems  (via sunst0ne)

(via sunst0ne)

thepenguinpress:

via Quotewave
Happy National Poetry Day!  

thepenguinpress:

via Quotewave

Happy National Poetry Day!  

(via englishmajorinrepair)


City Dusk
Midtown, Manhattan
stokstadshit:

 

“Her mother’s absence was like another language she’d had to learn, its full complexity and nuance emerging only after years of study, and even then, because it was foreign, a language never fully absorbed.”

—   Jhumpa Lahiri, The Lowland (via distantheartbeats)

(via teachingliteracy)

Would we ever think to ask if this is a golden age for men essayists? Is it even credible to use the phrase “men essayists”? Why does it sound incorrect in a way that “women essayists” doesn’t? And why does a writer like me — female, feminist, familiar with the discreet and overt forms of sexism in the literary world and beyond — bristle when presented with such a query, one undoubtedly intended to celebrate rather than diminish the achievements of a category of people I admire and to which I belong?

Probably because I’m of the opinion that as long as we still have reason to wedge “women” as a qualifier before “essayist,” the age is not exactly golden. And yet it’s hard to deny there’s something afoot. Essayists who happen to be women are having a banner year.

—   

In a spectacular New York Times op-ed, Cheryl Strayed – herself a phenomenal essayist – considers the alleged golden age of “women essayists.” 

Also see – for no discussion of the subject is complete without it – Ursula K. Le Guin’s spectacular piece on being a man

(via explore-blog)
humansofnewyork:

"My mom died in August.""What was your favorite thing about her?""Her sense of humor.""What was the time you most appreciated her sense of humor?""Probably when I was in high school and she walked in on my girlfriend and I going at it. I was too embarrassed to go back home, so she called my girlfriend, and asked to speak to me. When I got on the phone, she said: ‘Bet you went soft pretty quick there, huh?’"

humansofnewyork:

"My mom died in August."
"What was your favorite thing about her?"
"Her sense of humor."
"What was the time you most appreciated her sense of humor?"
"Probably when I was in high school and she walked in on my girlfriend and I going at it. I was too embarrassed to go back home, so she called my girlfriend, and asked to speak to me. When I got on the phone, she said: ‘Bet you went soft pretty quick there, huh?’"

“October 19. The inner world can only be experienced, not described.”

—   Franz Kafka, The Blue Octavo Notebooks (via kafkaesque-world)

(via theclassicreader)

Paloma Faith - Only Love Can Hurt Like This

majestictunes:

only love can hurt like this || paloma faith

i tell myself i don’t care that much
but i feel like i’m dying till i feel your touch

“All this happened, more or less.”

—   Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (via whyallcaps)

(via sunst0ne)

“That’s all we have, finally, the words, and they had better be the right ones.”