*hints At Eternally Vague Intentions*

🌼 poems that held my hand in may 🌼

Nocturne, Li-Young Lee

Your Name, Vahan Tekeyan

Sonnets to Orpheus 2;29, Rainer Maria Rilke

I stopped going to therapy, Clementine von Radics

Miyazaki Bloom, Nina Mingya Powles  

The Quiet Machine, Ada Limón

When we two parted, Lord Byron

Fragment, Amy Lowell

The Want of You, Angelina Weld Grimké

When Did It Happen?, Mary Oliver

Alone, Sara Teasdale

Peace XVIII, Khalil Gibran

thinking about how orpheus turning to look back at eurydice isn’t a sign of mortal frailness but a sign of love

Loneliness sometimes takes strange shapes I suppose, there is a kind that the fervently wants recorded in word or image every thought and deed, an underlying fear of being forgotten, afraid of never being truly known. Perhaps the feverish words scrawled in the middle of the night are just intended to be a reaffirmation of your existence, even though no one might read it.

Limerence is a word i have been looking for for a long time.

in the sixth months after graduating from college, with my very expensive degree from a good college, i ate nothing but bread. i worked at a bakery / cafe / restaurant and got half off one meal per shift but it was still too expensive even then. but at the end of every night we would throw out all the bread loaves that hadn’t sold, which was most of them, every night. we would fill up ten boxes to give away to a shelter and then we could take anything we could carry, and i couldn’t afford a half off deconstructed sandwich, but i could fill the cabinets of my apartment with bread. everyone who worked there was just like me, subsisting on discarded, overpriced bread. 

(when the managers’ backs were turned i was taught to leave the trashbags of bread behind the dumpster rather than inside it, because it was locked after everyone left to prevent people from stealing from it. we would say we were going out to stack chairs and instead stack prepackaged salads prepared that morning in the narrow space between wall and dumpster, but that’s not what this is about.)

we were working valentine’s day, a little bit miserable about it, because customers are somehow worse on a holiday about love, and even if we were single we didn’t want to be here, and most of us had people we’d rather be spending the day with, and the snappish, hardass manager was working that day, and everyone could not wait for the day to be over. 

we had a boxes of those bakery tissue sheets around and i was twisting it in my hands and i thought about how the first night my uncle spent with my aunt he had to get up early for work but didn’t want to wake her and the whole thing hadn’t been planned, exactly, so he (a roofer by trade and a golden glove boxer by sport) went into the kitchen and took some paper towels and twisted them between his big, scarred hands until it formed a sweeter shape and when my aunt work up it was to a paper towel rose on her pillow. 

so i used a couple sheets of bakery tissue to make a rose and walked up to my coworker who stared at me with a rictus smile and i gave it to her, trying not overthink if it was a weird thing to do. her smile slipped and she asked “you made this?” holding it carefully, like it wasn’t something her two year old son could have made with his pudgy hands, and i shrugged and got more milk from the back. 

then another coworker held the steamer too long when frothing milk, not on accident but because he was irritated, so i rolled another rose and tucked it in his apron pocket as i walked by. then it was just one more of us up front and it was nothing, thirty seconds of twisting paper to take the stack of cookies out of her hands and hand her a tissue paper rose, her lined face lifting into a grin as she proudly tucked it into the chest pocket of her shirt and i may as well have been standing in front of the ovens for how hot my face felt. 

it was such a silly thing to do, i felt ridiculous, giving away hastily constructed tissue paper roses on valentine’s day, clumsy artful garbage. then one of the servers walked by and noticed and so i made her one too, and then other servers came by, leaning over the glass, and complimenting the flowers with big eyes, and i laughed and made more, still not sure if it was sincere, but even if it wasn’t, i figured making them one and handing it over was better than saying no. 

then i went to the back again and the dishwasher yelled out “where’s mine? what about us?” and he was too sweet to ever be anything less than sincere, so someone kept an eye on the door to the manager’s office as i stood in the sweltering kitchen and rolled clumsy tissue paper roses, enough for everyone 

and by the time the day ended, everyone had one, everyone wore one, tucked in their shirt or their apron or stuck in their hair or taped to the top of their pen. everyone was a little less miserable, smiling like we were all on in on the joke, although i don’t think any of us knew the punchline 

this story doesn’t have a punchline either. i just sometimes think of how much better some crumpled tissue paper made things and think that it can be that easy, sometimes, if we’re sincere and don’t overthink it too much

Frosted glass between rain and life

I run my hand through the same old withered branches,

Drenched in the same old tired rain,

Far away the sunset harbours the lost gold of

Odysseys gone by, and if the wind were to hide

Within it some unremembered glow from the land

Of unknown secrets, the evening will gently

Whisk away the covers of the coquette,

And reveal to us a maiden under the bent willow,

Sweet as the apples from the orchards where our dreams

Were buried. She will beckon for the children

To gather around the fire and tell them the story

Of Zerah and Zulamith, whilst we twist the

Slender branches of the cherry tree into a throne

Fit for the brides of heaven to recline on,

Place at the altar a wreath of dead roses,

And hope that the silent fragrance borne to the shore

Is enough for the sea to give up the child

She drew to her heart in death’s storm.

…

And dare I tag anyone? @pollosky-in-blue perhaps you’ll like the story?

I can do basic arithmetic as a mathematician. I can easily do basic arithmetic as a mathematician. I can instantly do basic arithmetic as a mathematician. I can easily estimate operations on fractions as a mathematician. I can accurately estimate operations on fractions as a mathematician. I can instantly estimate operations on fractions as a mathematician. Novel proofs come easily to me. I am always correct when creating proofs. I am clearheaded when creating proofs. I am clever when creating proofs. I can detect counterexamples when creating proofs…

I appear completely human when outside the math department. My mind is not harmed from temporary excursions outside the math department. I can blend in with the humans when outside the math department. I can be social when outside the math department. I easily choose words to say that are not weird in social settings outside the math department…

I am supple and well fed. My body absorbs every nutrient from the coffee I drink. My body effortlessly turns coffee into theorems. My body efficiently turns coffee into theorems. My mind becomes more alert from the caffiene I drink. I can recieve proofs directly from Vishnu through all the coffee I drink. I can easily transcribe proofs from Vishnu through all the coffee I drink. My body naturally secretes theorems when provided with caffeine. My body effortlessly secretes theorems when provided with caffeine. My body's theorem secretions are exciting and novel. My body's theorem secretions are enticing to journals. My body's theorem secretions are rigorous. My body's theorem secretions can pass peer review…

My body naturally processes chalk powder into necessary carbon structures. My body instantly processes chalk powder into necessary carbon structures. My body efficiently processes chalk powder into necessary carbon structures…

I have full control over my emotions when presenting. I have effortless control over my emotions when presenting…

I am capable of resisting the urge to spit corrosive venom when asked what the applications are. I can effortlessly resist the urge to spit corrosive venom when asked what the applications are. I can swiftly resist the urge to spit corrosive venom when asked what the applications are…

I have full control over every integration problem. I have innate knowledge of many integration techniques. I have perfect knowledge of many integration techniques. I can apply trigonometric substitution correctly. I can apply trigonometric substitutions in a clarivoyant fashion. Knowledge of the derivative of the arctangent comes easily to me. My third eye is wide open. My third eye can easily recognize when a parameterization trick will be effective. My third eye can effortlessly recognize when a parameterization trick will be effective. My third eye will guide me to the most useful parameterization for any integral. My third eye has flawless knowledge of polar integration. My third eye can recognize integrals that can be solved more easily in polar form. My third eye can accurately recognize integrals that can be solved more easily in polar form. My third eye will catch missing polar constants. My third eye will catch missing indeterminate form constants. I am capable of remembering +C. I am capable of remembering the dx. I am capable of remembering the limits of integration…

I am capable of writing the addition symbol. The addition symbol does not singe my flesh. The addition symbol does not harm me in any way. The addition symbol does not cause me to involuntarily retract my hand in pain. I have independent control over each limb. I have full control over each limb. I have effortless control over each limb. My arms and legs respond to my every command. I am capable of resisting the urge to choke physicists. I am capable of resisting the urge to trip buisness majors…

Hypnosis works effectively on me. Hypnosis has no negative side effects on me. I am capable of reprogramming my subconscious mind. All positive and beneficial affirmations program my subconscious instantly. Affirmations I desire program my subconscious instantly. Affirmations I approve of program my subconscious instantly. I safely take in and absorb all subliminals. I bypass negativity to create instant and infinite results. All results gained from this subliminal are permanent.

An interesting thing that I’ve often had conflicting opinions on is the conflict between ‘knowledge needs to be applicable in real life for it to have any value’ and the opposite, ‘knowledge has an inherent value which is acquired through its possession’. I’ve always felt both were unjustifiable premises. Note the word used there - value. What does the word mean? Does it even mean anything? It is a term that fundamentally relies upon the importance the reader or writer places on varying subjects. Is it wise to try and reach an universal conclusion on this? Reason would say not, yet it is the philosopher’s aim to resolve the differences. How is one supposed to accept his thesis for or against one of these? Will not the degree of stress he places on places on matters such as utility and realism influence his reasoning and conjecture? And would it not be assuming a priori that the purpose crucial to him is one vital to a significant sect of the populace? What does an inference need to possess for it to be denounced as truth? Is a thing true in the same practice if it only applies to a specific few? What indeed is true? What is truth? Is it something that lies beyond the material? Perhaps as Nietzsche says, there is no thing that deserves the mantle of ‘truth’. We live briefly, with the knowledge that life is an arbitrary happening and distract ourselves from nihilistic dejection with the illusory hope of happiness and attempt to elevate our lives through awareness of the anthropological nature of things such as good and evil. What after all is there to live for? Does one really need a ‘why’ in order to find the ‘how’?

the soft courage and freedom that darkness brings