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Lelle
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Name: Kate
Country: France
Metro: Paris
Birthday: 1/1/1988
Gender: Female
Interests: reading, writing, poetry, literature, design, wordplay, traveling, cooking, politics, art, fashion, languages, nature, conversation, musing, musical perversions, making things with my hands, beautiful minds, beautiful words, optimism, dreaming,that thing known as living
Expertise: writerly aspirations: a sonority, a fever, an amplitude! above all else amplitude!
Occupation: optimist
Industry: life
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
11/2/2003
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| how long, how strong
If one could have a normative creative path, mine would fall far left of describing the completely abstract. The ghoulies and ghosties of everyday life, my own personal crazy, as it were. Maybe I'm not brave enough. Maybe I worry about the boy reading this when I'm supposed to be a normal functioning human being in the germanic style and taking off (kapeeewwww) on one of his own ether trips which usually ends up kicking the shit out of my heart. So sensitive, such a narcissus that his actions de-relate themselves to me as soon as he's upset. I wonder when he'll learn about the way consequences catch like kindling, but he's nearing 35 now and if it hasn't occurred to him yet, perhaps thats one more lost battle.
But responding to my crazy scares me, my brain my heart my lungs my skin, because my crazy isn't a crazy bought by too much too soon, exhaustion, depression, being overemotional, overwhelmed, any of the standard environments in which some crazy brews regardless. No, mine's intimate, concurrent with existence. It's all the time. Recently, all of the time. And the thing is this xanga- it's not bad. It's not all bad. Sometimes it's gentle, like a whisper of a friend. Sometimes it makes my days beautiful when otherwise they'd be just days. It's the dancing African female form in the window, Aggy, Aggy, who I can find nearly every night and who helped me to somehow in the past 2-3 weeks become so much stronger. To grow a woman's spine.
how long, how strong
To grow a woman's spine and realize a challenge when I see one, hey-ho, let's go
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| somewhere along the line she had grown a woman's spine (quiet slippery no noticing sort of way) from young-girl netting
unannounced, but nevertheless in the state of arrivals
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| Mon amant Philippe! Wonderful day, wonderful wonderful wonderful. One of those days where everything that seemed so looming and important and insurmountable only a day ago melts away into the soft grey of Paris.
French holiday; poulet a l'estragon, white wine, delicious delicious time at pere lachaise, le bon marche and bed. :)
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|  (one flew over the cuckoo's nest) (imply what you will) mental illness we lose things then, like space and time and self. And interspatial symmetry.  up into the silence the green... (41)
by e e. cummings up into the silence the green
silence with a white earth in it
you will(kiss me)go
out into the morning the young
morning with a warm world in it
(kiss me)you will go
on into the sunlight the fine
sunlight with a firm day in it
you will go(kiss me
down into your memory and
a memory and memory
i)kiss me,(will go)
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