i was driving the other day and looked at my wrists...
they're so...tiny. like toothpicky. i have weak wrists! i should worry about people snapping them now. i don't think i like that much.

tonight i became cognizant of my current cynical mindset [purple prose alert!]. incredibly cynical. i'm sure this stage will pass in a bit, but going to barnes & noble tonight in this state led to the purchase of a random little book called pessimisms by eric marcus. it's full of cute little quotes, such as george bernard shaw's "what is the use of straining after an amiable view of things, when a cynical view is most likely to be the true one?" unfortunately true. i read a couple to howard and he asked me to read some less depressing quotations. uh, howard? this book is called pessimisms. thanks for paying attention.

also found a quote by ashleigh brilliant: "one thing about pain: it proves you're alive." i'm sure i've blabbered on about that idea enough in this blog, but it's put quite succinctly there. pain makes the relief that much better. can't have the mountains without the valleys, the yin without the yang, yaddayaddayadda, slap me now.

in any case, i found ashleigh brilliant to be pretty intriguing. as a "uc berkeley street philosopher" she earns her living writing pot-shots [maxims under 17 words in length] and copyrighting them. how cool would it be to professionally write insults and spread pessimism? ah, i can only aspire to so much.

and in celebration of my slightly cynical state, there's always dorothy parker. i so enjoy them. =)

"Incurable" -Dorothy Parker

And if my heart be scarred and burned,
The safer, I, for all I learned;
The calmer, I, to see it true
That ways of love are never new-
The love that sets you daft and dazed
Is every love that ever blazed;
The happier, I, to fathom this:
A kiss is every other kiss.
The reckless vow, the lovely name,
When Helen walked, were spoke the same;
The weighted breast, the grinding woe,
When Phaon fled, were ever so.
Oh, it is sure as it is sad
That any lad is every lad,
And what's a girl, to dare implore
Her dear be hers forevermore?
Though he be tried and he be bold,
And swearing death should he be cold,
He'll run the path the others went....
But you, my sweet, are different.


"Healed" -Dorothy Parker

Oh, when I flung my heart away,
The year was at its fall.
I saw my dear, the other day,
Beside a flowering wall;
And this was all I had to say:
"I thought that he was tall!"


"Little Words" -Dorothy Parker

When you are gone, there is nor bloom nor leaf,
Nor singing sea at night, nor silver birds;
And I can only stare, and shape my grief
In little words.

I cannot conjure loveliness, to drown
The bitter woe that racks my cords apart.
The weary pen that sets my sorrow down
Feeds at my heart.

There is no mercy in the shifting year,
No beauty wraps me tenderly about.
I turn to little words- so you, my dear,
Can spell them out.