User:	literaryquotes (posted by anima)
	Date:	2008-07-20 10:30
	Subject:	War
	Security:	Public

"Today, force is called violence and its judgement is beginning; war is being accused. Civilization, with the human race as plaintiff, is preparing the trial and mounting the great criminal case against the conquerors and the captains... The people will come to understand that amplifying atrocities cannot diminish them. That if to kill is a crime, killing large numbers cannot be an attenuating factor; that if to steal is shameful, invasion cannot be glory...Ah! let us proclaim these absolute truths, let us dishonour war."

Guy De Maupassant, Afloat

	User:	literaryquotes (posted by wyvernstars)
	Date:	2008-07-20 21:38
	Subject:	get it? get it? XD
	Security:	Public

"... and to never, ever, under any circumstances, let the Virginian Wolfsnake near a typewriter."

- Lemony Snicket, The Reptile Room

	User:	lomography (posted by bolelof)
	Date:	2008-07-20 16:49
	Subject:
	Security:	Public
	Music:	каста - под одним небом

	User:	lomography (posted by bolelof)
	Date:	2008-07-20 16:38
	Subject:
	Security:	Public

( .. . . + 3 . .  )

	User:	literaryquotes (posted by snarlball)
	Date:	2008-07-20 06:44
	Subject:	Pullman - The Subtle Knife
	Security:	Public
	Mood:	amused

"A few minutes after he arrived, Lee was talking to a group of astronomers eager to learn what news he could bring them, for there are few natural philosophers as frustrated as astronomers in a fog."

	User:	lomography (posted by vambat)
	Date:	2008-07-20 13:11
	Subject:
	Security:	Public

User:	dictionary_wotd
Date:	2008-07-20 07:46
Subject:	insensate: Dictionary.com Word of the Day
Security:	Public

http://www.dictionary.com/wordoftheday/archive/2008/07/20.html

	User:	literaryquotes (posted by themostfleeting)
	Date:	2008-07-20 03:15
	Subject:	On Beauty, Zadie Smith
	Security:	Public

"Its a Wellington thing, its a student thing," said Victoria rapidly, coming up on her elbows. "Its our shorthand for when we say, like, Professor Simeon's class is 'The tomato's nature versus the tomato's nurture,' and Jane Colman's class is 'To properly understand the tomato you must first uncover the tomato's suppressed Herstory’... and Professor Gilman's class is 'The tomato is structured like an aubergine,' and Professor Kellas's class is basically 'There is no way of proving the existence of the tomato without making reference to the tomato itself,' and Erskine Jegede's class is 'The post-colonial tomato as eaten by Naipaul.' And so on. So you say, 'What class have you got coming up?' and the person says Tomatoes 1670-1900. Or whatever.
But your class – your class is a cult classic. I love your class. Your class is all about never ever saying 'I like the tomato.'"

On Beauty, Zadie Smith

	User:	theysaid (posted by iatrogenicmyth)
	Date:	2008-07-20 02:37
	Subject:	Gateway Drug // Erika Meitner
	Security:	Public

When I asked him over beers one night

what the meaning of life was

my friend Jon replied, We all think we’re ugly,

but we’re not.  And for once

I agreed with him—how seductive, the idea

that arbitrary cruelty might evaporate

if everyone felt beautiful

in their own skins.  I went to talk

to the local eleventh grade class

about writing poetry, was reminded

how everyone is asymmetrical then,

heads huge and ungainly, limbs restless and taut;

the kid in the back row hiding behind a curtain of hair

carving swear words into his arm with the staple remover,

the girl in the second row sizing me up

with her jeweler’s eye.  In high school

they showed us films once a year

to boost our self-esteem, keep us

off drugs—lavish multi-screened productions

with titles like The Prize, soundtracks singing,

My future’s so bright I gotta wear shades. 

We are what we think we are, and one thing

inevitably leads to another—drugs to sex, sex

to cigarettes.  A head leaning on a shoulder

and suddenly you’re naked, I’m naked,

air conditioner washing over us like ocean,

moon shining off the brick wall in the back

of a Tribeca art gallery, the detritus

of the party around us, trance music spinning

on a turntable, making out high like high-schoolers

in front of someone else’s locker.  Remember

being the kid who had to get your lunch or math book, ask

the lip-locked couple in front of your locker to move? 

Did you say, Excuse me, tap them gently? 

I never had that courage, shared

a neighbor’s book, bought hot lunch.  But tonight

we are as cool as our daydreams were then,

magazine pages and mirrors, straight-edge skaters,

drama queens, hair gods and punk princesses

smoking in the back row, the health teacher’s nightmare,

impossibly drugged, and when I touch

your clay lips with my iron fingers,

trace your beveled collarbone

with my fluted mouth, the tune I play

pushes hallway lockers open with gale force. 

Uneaten lunches and uncovered books fly,

everything slams, and blinded

	User:	literaryquotes (posted by royalrainboww)
	Date:	2008-07-20 02:19
	Subject:	Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does.
	Security:	Public

When we found each other, I was very flabbergasted by his appearance. This is an American? I thought. And also, This is a Jew? He was severely short. He wore spectacles and had diminutive hairs which were not split anywhere, but rested on his head like a Shapka. He did not appear like either the Americans I had witnessed in magazines, with yellow hairs and muscles, or the Jews from history books, with no hair and prominent bones. He was wearing nor blue jeans nor the uniform. In truth, he did not look like anything special at all. I was underwhelmed to the maximum.

--

...he enclosed pieces of string that he used to measure out his body--his head, thigh, forearm, finger, neck, everything. He wanted me to sleep with them under my pillow. He said that when he came back, we would remeasure his body against the string as proof that he hadn't changed.

	User:	vancouver (posted by unsane1)
	Date:	2008-07-19 23:06
	Subject:	Surrealist Art Gallery and/or Show(s)?
	Security:	Public

Any such thing in or around downtown Vancouver? Or, worst case, somewhere in the suburbs? Thanks!

	User:	the_polaroids (posted by shoothisgun)
	Date:	2008-07-19 22:34
	Subject:	my first post
	Security:	Public

(  + 7  )

	User:	the_polaroids (posted by duhh_itsgeorgia)
	Date:	2008-07-20 17:13
	Subject:
	Security:	Public

I have no pictures right now, but today they had free polariod shots in the mall to promote JetStar airlines! It was so fantastic considering that apparently they were the last shots taken in NZ!

	User:	slavapir
	Date:	2008-07-20 07:45
	Subject:	Polaroid today
	Security:	Public

	User:	theysaid (posted by dollpaper)
	Date:	2008-07-20 00:43
	Subject:	Bruce Bond | Scar
	Security:	Public

What is it you forget in your vigil,
cell after cell like petals on the grave
of first days, so often strange, your veil
of skin ruffled, renewed, as if you grieved

in the blind color of too much light.
So late you sleep there, so leaden the pour
of suns that cannot touch you. The blood you let,
the foaming of the crevice—what old prayer

of needle and thread could ever answer
the power of arrival. The body opens
its red door which in turn opens the flare
of the eye. Don't you remember. You pinned

each to itself like an armless sleeve.
Unlikely, true. White shadow of the wound
that is no wound. The wind in the leaves
and the sound it makes, after the wind.

	User:	mellybrelly
	Date:	2008-07-19 21:41
	Subject:	ahh, a Saturday off..
	Security:	Public

After tearing my house apart and creating a huge disaster, I drove up to my parent's house. My mom and I went to Seal Bay nature park for a walk/run. I haven't gone for a run for a long time, so we walked 4 minutes and ran 1 for 35 minutes. Tomorrow I'm going to try to run longer.

I felt pretty weak, but when I remember to when I started running 2.5 years ago, I could barely run 30 seconds at a time. I don't think it'll be long before I'm running 5km like I was. My mom is interested in running with me, which is nice. She's actually in better shape than me, her and my dad go for bike rides every day and walks every night, and she just goes all the time, but she is happy to run and walk at my pace, which helps with my bit of anxiety around running. I know it's such a good workout though, and I felt so good when I was running 20 - 25 km a week.

*

Construction has started on my sister's house! My dad built the foundation, today, for the new part of the house that is actually going to double the size of their house.

*

I have been eating English peas out of their pods all afternoon.... and evening

*

My neighbour's boyfriend parked in my parking spot, and he parked so badly (or his truck rolled backwards) that he has actually blocked in someone else's car too. I taped a note to his window that said "Please do not park in my parking spot, please park in the visitor parking spots by the road". It wasn't grumpy, it was just to the point. I hate coming home and not having a parking spot. (edit: Just ran into her outside and she forgot to tell her boyfriend not to park in my spot, she apologized, which was nice.. although he hasn't moved his truck. :P)



(I'm so excited I actually got out for a run, even though I am starting from the beginning again!)

	User:	theysaid (posted by dollpaper)
	Date:	2008-07-20 00:36
	Subject:	Tony Barnstone | Psalm of Snow
	Security:	Public

I had forgotten how to say yes. That's the trick of heartbreak.
It makes you forget yes. The voices in my head were not kind,
so you took me to the woods to empty out.
My old shoulder was wired with pain, and there was a needle
in my hip, but we lay on a wide flat rock in the snow
as the intoxicated sun licked our faces with breathing light

like a yellow dog, simple in its joy, licking our chins and lips and necks
and a long wind came from over the mountaintop
and cooled our left sides, and the Sacramento River
wept through us like time, and spoke its liquid foolish syllables,
senseless, sensual, almost sentient, and I lay with my head
nested between your breasts and listened.

Time to climb, you said, and I felt snow-wing angelic as we snowshoed
above Castle Lake, leaving traces behind like snow rabbits
with webbed feet, silver squirrels, prints on the glass of the world,
a little evidence for angels to investigate after that death magic
resolves us to nothing again. I heard omens in the wind, psalms
in the bent warm sunlight that makes the snow mountains weep.

Something was coming, something foreign as joy, a clue
to how to live once you're done with sorrow, a way of being
in being like a long breath exhaled, leaving a trace on the air
before it resolves again to air, the frozen lake, ice fishers waiting
for something great to rise, the mountaintop lifting
its white head in trance and saying its one good word: snow.

User:	postsecret
Date:	2008-07-12 23:58
Subject:	Sunday Secrets
Security:	Public

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/2008/07/sunday-secrets_12.html

	User:	vancouver (posted by qiushuwen)
	Date:	2008-07-19 20:35
	Subject:	Telus' Long Distance Network Access Charge
	Security:	Public
	Mood:	annoyed
	Music:	live band from block party

Is anyone else still getting billed for Telus' Long Distance Newwork Access Charge?

The CRTC ordered Telus to refund customers they charged and yet my grandmother keeps getting billed, nevermind the refund. My dad or I have been calling Telus just about every month for the last few months and each time, a droning rep keeps telling us to "ignore" it for that month and that they are still "sorting things out", and that's good and all, but every month I have to call and make sure my grandmother won't get charged an overdue fee for "ignoring" it.

Has anyone gotten a hold of a competent rep answer?

	User:	greatpoets (posted by lonelybusiness)
	Date:	2008-07-20 11:46
	Subject:	Rachmaninoff on the Mass Pike - Rhina P. Espaillat
	Security:	Public

Rachmaninoff on the Mass Pike
-- Rhina P. Espaillat

It calls the heart, this music, to a place
more intimate than home, than self, that face
aging in the hall mirror. This is not
music to age by - no sprightly gavotte
or orderly pavane, counting each beat,
confining motion to the pointed feet
and sagely nodding head; not Chopin, wise
enough to keep some distance in his eyes
between perceiver and the thing perceived.
No, this is song that means to be believed,
that quite believes itself, each rising wave
of passionate crescendo wild and brave.
The silly girl who lived inside my skin
once loved this music; its melodic din
was like the voice she dreamed in, sad, intense.
She didn't know a thing, she had no sense;
she scorned - and needed - calendar and clock,
the rules, the steps, the lines, Sebastian Bach;
she wanted life to break her like a tide,
but not too painfully. On either side
the turnpike trundles by, nurseries, farms,
small towns with schools and markets in their arms,
small industry, green spaces now and then.
All the heart wants is to be called again.