what we feel most has no name





My mother’s favourite cake, orange and almond. The first time I made it was in my parent’s kitchen, and I wrote about boiling the oranges because I was very sad. My boyfriend had moved to England, and I was young and it felt very big and like the end, not just of us but of everything. It’s at least five years later now and my mother is here visiting me before she moves to Scotland, and the cake is made again, and in just over one week she will be gone.

My mother’s favourite cake, orange and almond. The first time I made it was in my parent’s kitchen, and I wrote about boiling the oranges because I was very sad. My boyfriend had moved to England, and I was young and it felt very big and like the end, not just of us but of everything. It’s at least five years later now and my mother is here visiting me before she moves to Scotland, and the cake is made again, and in just over one week she will be gone.

Much needed Sam-therapy on Sunday. The excitement of the dog park can wear off pretty quickly, so Robbie walked her down to the lake and got in the water with her. At first she was just kind of bouncing around and it looked so silly, but she found her feet pretty quickly, and even helped teach another golden retriever how to swim. Then we played fetch for a long time. Afterwards we took her for a nice leisurely walk to dry off, and we saw baby swans, and there was lots and lots of wattle. If I stopped for too long to look at something or take a photo, Sam would give Robbie a kind of look and would make him wait for me to catch up. I think we will have a good spring together. I didn’t even sneeze.

In my dream last night Robbie and I hadn’t met yet, and something felt wrong the whole time.

At work listening to blues songs and not doing work. I’m rewarding myself for every little thing I get done today (“open that document” “make that phone call”) by looking up cute diy projects, new recipes, different ways to grow plants. We’re all on a super tight budget in the house at the moment, so we’ve been brainstorming ways to save money. We’re planning spring backyard picnics, bike rides, planting days. We’ll be moving in January, which means thinking ahead to what we can harvest before then, or take with us. Making lists - strawberries, beetroot, peas, cucumber, capsicum/peppers, basil, thyme. 

imathers:

miss-kubelik:

kateceratops:

People are giving Wilson money to thank him for killing an unarmed black teenager. Please report this to GoFundMe, as it violates their Terms of Service and they get 5% of the tens of thousands of dollars being donated. Click to report.
This is my message, in case you want to copy and paste:
Your Terms of Service prohibit “items that promote… hate, racial intolerance, or the financial exploitation of a crime.” Take a look at the comments that come with the donations on this page and tell me that doesn’t violate your terms. “Support Officer Wilson” is a thin veil for people rewarding Wilson for killing a black kid.

SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE.

When you report the page, you need the link to it as well; that’s here (so you can copy and paste the link without visiting it).

This makes me fucking livid. Some example comments:I am sorry you were physically attacked by Michael Brown and I hope your injuries (both physical and emotional) heal completely! I am glad you protected yourself from further harm. Thank you for doing your job to keep us safe. Darren Wilson already had to defend himself against a 300 pound thug without any help. The officer now has the monumental task of defending himself against Obama, Holder, Nixon, Jackson, Sharpton, the media, the mob, etc. These people have an agenda and Darren Wilson needs help. If these people succeed in railroading this man then none of us are safe. Ferguson P.D. Officer Darren Wilson is a SURVIVOR, and a true-blue HERO. God Bless and Protect Officer Darren Wilson and his Family from these evil forces of mendacious manipulation and unmitigated malevolence, their bitter lies, and their violent, puerile subterfuge. To help you against all the racism that attacks you under the guise of tolerance. From Switzerland, with love I applaud all of your efforts to protect the city of Ferguson. It is disgusting to realize that you are being condemned for doing your job and having to protect yourself from an obvious criminal. Use this money as you see fit. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. You did the right thing. I support you.

imathers:

miss-kubelik:

kateceratops:

People are giving Wilson money to thank him for killing an unarmed black teenager. Please report this to GoFundMe, as it violates their Terms of Service and they get 5% of the tens of thousands of dollars being donated. Click to report.

This is my message, in case you want to copy and paste:

Your Terms of Service prohibit “items that promote… hate, racial intolerance, or the financial exploitation of a crime.” Take a look at the comments that come with the donations on this page and tell me that doesn’t violate your terms. “Support Officer Wilson” is a thin veil for people rewarding Wilson for killing a black kid.

SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE.

When you report the page, you need the link to it as well; that’s here (so you can copy and paste the link without visiting it).

This makes me fucking livid. Some example comments:

I am sorry you were physically attacked by Michael Brown and I hope your injuries (both physical and emotional) heal completely! I am glad you protected yourself from further harm. Thank you for doing your job to keep us safe.

Darren Wilson already had to defend himself against a 300 pound thug without any help. The officer now has the monumental task of defending himself against Obama, Holder, Nixon, Jackson, Sharpton, the media, the mob, etc. These people have an agenda and Darren Wilson needs help. If these people succeed in railroading this man then none of us are safe.

Ferguson P.D. Officer Darren Wilson is a SURVIVOR, and a true-blue HERO. God Bless and Protect Officer Darren Wilson and his Family from these evil forces of mendacious manipulation and unmitigated malevolence, their bitter lies, and their violent, puerile subterfuge.

To help you against all the racism that attacks you under the guise of tolerance. From Switzerland, with love

I applaud all of your efforts to protect the city of Ferguson. It is disgusting to realize that you are being condemned for doing your job and having to protect yourself from an obvious criminal. Use this money as you see fit. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

You did the right thing. I support you.

(via afirethorn)

I removed the quotes and it was all like “depression at work” “mental health/the nature of suicide” etc.Really my dream job is professional animal cuddler but this PhD scholarship is a close second.

I removed the quotes and it was all like “depression at work” “mental health/the nature of suicide” etc.

Really my dream job is professional animal cuddler but this PhD scholarship is a close second.

List of all the rivers, mountains, roads until I find you

(part II)

Noosa. Brisbane. Mekong Delta. Caboolture. The Thames. Molonglo. Derwent. Cotter.


I have crossed them all. All the rivers I can swim.

*
Tibrogargan. Tennent. Ainslie. Tambourine. 

The day I climbed a mountain without meaning to, and you came to find me. My body hurt for days and you carried me. 

*
It took me so long to learn how to drive.

The Weather Reported



I’m glad the cabin is finished in Cañones.
                     
                          Did Elud finish the rock wall?
                     
                          The bedroom facing south?

I was less of a person then, I know.
I was less of a bird then, too.

              Do the two streams still run?
              The roadrunner? The crane?

Remember the night on the porch: Chinaco and chilies
                         by the Rio Grande, the cloud that passed over us
                         in the shape of your face?

 We both saw it. You were the weather.

 I was moving to you, to the river, but
             I was not a morning dove, or a marsh hawk.

I’m sorry that I could not stay. Your name was too big for me,
             twice my age—you were still running faster than water.

I moved to the farthest tip of the East,
             you sent me binoculars for my bird-watching.
             and a bunch of Mexican sage from the bosque.

Santiago, I am my own weather now.
Santiago, I am my own river.
Santiago, I am a better bird for flying. 

Ada Limón

Sometimes my favourite thing is going to the dog park with Robbie and his dog Sam, taking her for walks, watching him give her a bath. Not only because of how much he loves her which makes me love him even more, but because together I feel like we are a little family. 

My dad had to hang up on me today when I called because he was sad and crying. I keep thinking “I don’t want him to be sad anymore” but remember sadness is an important part of what he is going through, and of everything. I think about my daily sadness encounters to make myself feel a bit better, to remind myself of all the sadnesses that people overcome. Like that passage in Everything is Iluminated, the 613 sadnesses that Brod discovered, which was maybe my favourite part of that book, or the most relatable.

"…Sadness of domes[ti]cated birds; Sadness of fini[shi]ng a book; Sadness of remembering; Sadness of forgetting; Anxiety Sadness…INTERPERSONAL SADNESSES: Sadness of being sad in front of one’s parent; Sa[dn]ness of false love; Sadness of love [sic]; Friendship sadness; Sadness of a bad convers[at]ion; Sadness of the could-have-been; Secret sadness….”

Sadness of knowing your father is sad. Sadness of sadness being inevitable. Sadness of helplessness. Sadness of distance. Sadness of not being close enough. Sadness of being a girl and not being able to be inside someone. Sadness of thinking of your cat when you see all other cats. Sadness because of your [reluctance to be happy about your] mother’s happiness. Sadness of Sunday nights. Sadness of age. Sadness of youth and not knowing enough. Sadness of indecision. Sadness of decision(s). Sadness of sleep. Sadness of dreams. Sadness of not dreaming. Sadness of plans that do not go to plan. Sadness of time/not enough time. Sadness of sometimes you don’t even know why.

The Famine of Love

rabbit-light:

After his mother forbids him to marry Psyche, Cupid puts down his bow and all living things on earth stop mating.
First the fruit flies fell around the fruit bowl and the air was still,
the figs and apples ripened and then were gone. The end of bees
means the end of plums and roses, the end of rye and amaranth.
Soon, no mice: we noticed their silence after the years of traps
and scratching in the ceilings, no droppings in the flour, no footprints
in the butter. I found an owl dead in a glade. Takes less
time than you might think for horsefeed to look like food
if there is no food. There are our orchards, there are
our fields, empty of hum and buzzing, empty of peaches
and wheat. The male swan left the lake, just flew away,
and his mate made widening circles over town, 
honking her grief until we shot her down. 
The goats stripped every bush of leaves but bore no kids,
no cats birthed kittens, no kits for the foxes, no goslings,
no grubs, no nymphs, no infants. My son now prefers the empty 
woods to the dancing girls—it’s true that they’ve grown bony, 
and though I go to watch them they don’t stir me. I’m hungry. 
At the town council we address the issue: how long can we survive
on leaves and boiled bark? Two months, if we eat our seed corn
and slaughter our horses. One month if we save some corn, 
save some horses to try to plant in the spring. My wife
once rode that horse fifty miles just to see me
for an afternoon. Once she rode over a river in winter, 
the ice spackled with rabbit tracks
and filled with unlucky fish, just to marry me. 
Once we made love in the garden, under the bean trellis; 
in our bed we made a child. I make a list 
of her good qualities. I try to find my love for her
in things, wearing the clothes she gave me, reading 
notations she left in my books. Re-reading her letters
I think, I’m so hungry I could let you starve.
It’s hard to know yourself anymore
when you can think a thing like that. 
Some things might outlast this. Tortoises, maybe.
But look at them: each grooved to fit smoothly with the other, 
built to heave those heavy bodies together and lock in. 
See how his belly is arched
to cradle her shell. 
I keep thinking: I don’t need her.
I keep opening the cupboard to find nothing.

(Source: rattle.com)

I woke up this morning feeling really shitty, because I dreamt about my ex from five years ago. And I get super affected by my dreams - like wake up crying, scratching at myself, can be upset about them the whole day after. I felt like I’d done something wrong for dreaming about a guy I used to love when I am so in love with Robbie? But then I got this text from him: “I had a dream last night that involved me wearing black silk boxers, crashing a wedding at a hotel somewhere where we were sharing a room until my mother encouraged you to bring back your ex boyfriend, who was just so disgustingly attractive so thanks for that, and then I got really angry at you and ran away into the ocean.” And like, even our dreams are in sync and everything feels better now.