thee istsfor manity reader

What I’m Reading:

“Today I often said forest to myself. Truth itself wanders through the forests.”

— Werner Herzog / Of Walking In Ice

What I’m Reading:

“Traveling alone, you get to be whoever you want. I don’t mean lie. I mean you get to be a blank slate. You can’t leave behind your skin color, or your height, or the handsomeness or homeliness of your face. But you can leave your story behind. If you’ve broken hearts, the new place doesn’t know. If you’ve lost trust in people and yourself, the new place doesn’t know.”

— Jedediah Jenkins / To Shake the Sleeping Self: A Journey from Oregon to Patagonia, and a Quest for a Life with No Regret

The Best Stuff I (Re)Read This Week

“Suffering is a part of the human condition and must be borne. But misery is a choice.”

— Cormac McCarthy / The Passenger

“Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real. The events that cause them can never be forgotten, can they?”

— Cormac McCarthy / All the Pretty Horses

“Somebody has been fuckin my watermelons.”

— Cormac McCarthy / Suttree

“Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever … You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget.”

— Cormac McCarthy / The Road

“Your god must once have stood at a dawn of infinite possibilities, and this is what he’s made of it. You tell me that I want God’s love? I don’t.”

— Cormac McCarthy / The Sunset Limited

“The point is there ain’t no point.”

— Cormac McCarthy / No Country for Old Men

“When all trace of our existence is gone, for whom then will this be a tragedy?”

— Cormac McCarthy / Stella Maris

What I’m Listening To:

“Now he sits all alone
And it’s no place like home
It’s empty skin
A bag to keep life’s souvenirs in”

— XTC / “The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul”

Rapid Eye Pie

The lotus-eaters adjourn — full of Dutchman’s breeches and fox gloves.

Floating.

Touring the recesses and regressing — shading the noncommittal lilacs.

A truffle kabuki in shadow play and detonation — a respectful lunch.

Fingertips asses — illuminating a marginalized yet vital mentality.

Softly.

Somnolent.

A drowsy stoop.

They sop the soporific up — an impossible dream awaits.

No feat of slumber skillet to thwart their sleep.

Doze.

What I’m Reading:

“Whatever exists, he said. Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent.”

— Cormac McCarthy / Blood Meridian, or The Evening Redness in The West

baking ourselves

the ineffable realized
/ in an infographic /
we’re baking ourselves to death

What I’m Reading:

“There’s no such thing as life without bloodshed … I think the notion that the species can be improved in some way, that everyone could live in harmony, is a really dangerous idea.”

— Cormac McCarthy to The New York Times, 1992