Afireheart10's Blog

i'll find it. — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 05:25:18 +0000

i imagine that the most meaningful existence is a great love story, the love for all people and life

i'll find it. — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 22:52:29 +0000

“I was poor but I knew that life is beautiful. And I had no other ambition than to discover with the help of new means those deep inner ties that linked me to the very soil.” – Maurice de Vlaminck

i'll find it. — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 21:46:42 +0000

As the Barcelona futbol team wins tonight, I am reminded of another story which to include in my book of insanity. Only two weeks ago, I stumbled upon the Madrid team´s spa room at the Beverly Hills hotel as they were getting 3 am massages while I sat and patheticaly recounted (an alcohol-induced desperation) my life story to the head coach in bad Spanish. This was, of course, only after I ratted out his team. Getting a good night rest for their morning game (against LA Galaxy) those boys were NOT.

(After all I should know. My friends and I were in their hotel room before I wandered off.)

life will be lonely

i'll find it. — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 23:21:52 +0000

sometimes even when you know you possess _ _ _ _ _ _ , you got to live with the just knowing.

i'll find it. — Sun, 22 May 2011 06:24:44 +0000

THIS IS SO SEXY:

http://vimeo.com/19237061

i'll find it. — Wed, 11 May 2011 20:04:29 +0000

(Poem #618) The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

– W H Auden

i'll find it. — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 22:56:52 +0000

The artist asks, “where does this love go?”
Knowing their hearts to weigh, they know it not to be nothingness.
And when the anchor of meaninglessness
resists the artist’s inclination to love freely,
The power of feeling overcomes them.
PASSION.
Suddenly, it makes sense -
It only makes sense that this love be used for something,
Rather than let it rot on a rainy or solitary day.
It must go somewhere.
The tears of artists fall, but recycled, are collected above
by the ever-so-Holy sky.

i'll find it. — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 20:09:20 +0000

i'll find it. — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 07:25:56 +0000

now she rests

i'll find it. — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 07:39:45 +0000

The girl [poised on the knife-edge between the waking world and the endless night.]