Poetry is like a curvy slide in a playground — an odd object, available to the public — and, as I keep explaining to my local police force, everyone should be able to use it, not just those of a certain age.

I wish Lemony Snicket made a million more poetry lists (or at least another one)

Nothing is more punk rock than surviving in a hungry sea of white noise.

What if you let someone who loves you rewrite your story?
Who would you be?

If it is a human thing to do to put something you want, because it’s useful, edible or beautiful, into a bag, or a basket, or a bit of rolled bark or leaf, or a net woven of your own hair, or what have you, and then take it home with you, home being another, larger kind of pouch or bag a container for people, and then later on you take it out and eat it or share it or store it up for winter in a solider container or put it in the medicine bundle or the shrine or the museum, the holy place, the area that contains what is sacred, and the next day you probably do much the same again — if to do that is human, if that’s what it takes, then I am a human being after all. Fully, freely, gladly, for the first time.

Le Guin “disputes the idea that the spear was the earliest human tool, proposing that it was actually the receptacle. Questioning the spear’s phallic, murderous logic, instead Le Guin tells the story of the carrier bag, the sling, the shell, or the gourd. In this empty vessel, early humans could carry more than can be held in the hand and, therefore, gather food for later. Anyone who consistently forgets to bring their tote bag to the supermarket knows how significant this is. And besides, Le Guin writes, the idea that the spear came before the vessel doesn’t even make sense. “Sixty-five to eighty percent of what human beings ate in those regions in Paleolithic, Neolithic, and prehistoric times was gathered; only in the extreme Arctic was meat the staple food.” Not only is the carrier bag theory plausible, it also does meaningful ideological work — shifting the way we look at humanity’s foundations from a narrative of domination to one of gathering, holding, and sharing.” – Siobhan Leddy in The Outline

Despair is nothing more than the pinch of the pinhole, reducing the immense vista of reality to a particular interpretation of a particular moment.

The more we unself by widening the aperture to let the world in, the less we suffer.

Hannibal always takes the time to acknowledge what we’re looking at and genuinely ask, true to form, how does that make you feel?

Hannibal is about, among other things, the experience of watching Hannibal

Hemispheric neglect menaces our sense of reality with the intimation that we too may be missing entire regions of reality because our attention simply cannot be drawn to them.

The trick, of course, is to be intelligent enough and humble enough to recognize that you might be missing half of reality.

There’s an art to living in a time loop. You can bend your life around it, discover its exact contours.