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"edie" poems
This is an excerpt of exquisite letter that Kerouac sent to his first wife, Edie Kerouac Parker, in late January of 1957, a decade after their marriage had been annulled. The world you see is just a movie in your mind. Rocks don't see it. Bless and sit down. Forgive and forget. Practice kindness all day to everybody and you will realize you’re already in heaven now. That’s the story. That’s the message. Nobody understands it, nobody listens, they’re all running around like chickens with heads cut off. I will try to teach it but it will be in vain, s’why I’ll end up in a shack praying and being cool and singing by my woodstove making pancakes.
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Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
Golden Eternity (Jack Kerouac)
For the first time on campus, Sisters on the Runway will strut and pose for domestic violence awareness. Sisters on the Runway will be hosting its first annual fashion show from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. tonight in the Business Building. All proceeds will be donated to the Centre County Women's Resource Center, Layla Taremi president of the organization, said. Sisters on the Runway is a national student-run organization that raises awareness about women and children who reside in domestic violence shelters. There are over five chapters throughout the nation, each supporting the same cause to local shelters. It was founded in 2009 and has grown since then, Taremi (sophomore-marketing) said. Aside from the fashion show, which is the biggest fundraising event that the organization hosts, Sisters on the Runway is also responsible for other events. The organization hosts a chalking event where they write facts about domestic violence on sidewalks using chalk. This is a way for them to raise domestic violence awareness, Taremi said. It also hosts a walk where all participants walk a mile in heels for awareness. The show will consist of eleven female models and three male models, Edie Alexander, the event planner, said. Alexander said the show is expected to showcase clothing from Connections, Dwellings, Diamonds and Lace Bridal and Harper's, who are also their sponsors. Looks Hair Salon will be responsible for hair and makeup for the models in show, Taremi said. "There is no theme for the show,” Taremi said. “It will be a wide spectrum of clothing." The male models are expected to walk the runway showcasing suits and tuxedos, Taremi said. Originally the show was not going to include male models. It wasn't until the owners of Harper's decided to contribute to the show by donating some men's apparel for the fashion show. All the models participating have been building up their confidence for the runway, Alexander (sophomore-recreation park and tourism management) said. "I'm excited for our first annual fashion show, I hope this brings more awareness to the Penn State community," Vice President Lauren Shearer (sophomore-supply chain management) said. The organization’s goal is to get a lot of people involved through different events to help raise awareness of domestic violence, Shearer said. "We’re trying to push people to come, not just Penn State students, because it's not an issue that doesn't only affects college students,” Alexander said. “It affects everyone as well."Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide
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Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
Sisters on the Runway to host fashion show
For the first time on campus, Sisters on the Runway will strut and pose for domestic violence awareness. Sisters on the Runway will be hosting its first annual fashion show from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. tonight in the Business Building. All proceeds will be donated to the Centre County Women's Resource Center, Layla Taremi president of the organization, said. Sisters on the Runway is a national student-run organization that raises awareness about women and children who reside in domestic violence shelters. There are over five chapters throughout the nation, each supporting the same cause to local shelters. It was founded in 2009 and has grown since then, Taremi (sophomore-marketing) said. Aside from the fashion show, which is the biggest fundraising event that the organization hosts, Sisters on the Runway is also responsible for other events. The organization hosts a chalking event where they write facts about domestic violence on sidewalks using chalk. This is a way for them to raise domestic violence awareness, Taremi said. It also hosts a walk where all participants walk a mile in heels for awareness. The show will consist of eleven female models and three male models, Edie Alexander, the event planner, said. Alexander said the show is expected to showcase clothing from Connections, Dwellings, Diamonds and Lace Bridal and Harper's, who are also their sponsors. Looks Hair Salon will be responsible for hair and makeup for the models in show, Taremi said. "There is no theme for the show,” Taremi said. “It will be a wide spectrum of clothing." The male models are expected to walk the runway showcasing suits and tuxedos, Taremi said. Originally the show was not going to include male models. It wasn't until the owners of Harper's decided to contribute to the show by donating some men's apparel for the fashion show. All the models participating have been building up their confidence for the runway, Alexander (sophomore-recreation park and tourism management) said. "I'm excited for our first annual fashion show, I hope this brings more awareness to the Penn State community," Vice President Lauren Shearer (sophomore-supply chain management) said. The organization’s goal is to get a lot of people involved through different events to help raise awareness of domestic violence, Shearer said. "We’re trying to push people to come, not just Penn State students, because it's not an issue that doesn't only affects college students,” Alexander said. “It affects everyone as well."Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide
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12
Where is my Campbell Soup Can? My Candy Darling, Edie Sedgewick, my "Factory"? I was promised 15 minutes, it said so on the box, on the manual of life, now where is it? Did I pass it? Dismiss it? Was it at the bottom of the ******* Jack box I so carelessly tossed aside? I think not. I think it does not exist, and therefore I think Andy failed me. Andy lied.
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Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
Andy Lied
She was always a chameleon soul Black Orchid Eyes, shadows, vulnerabilities Of heroine chic, Juxtaposed with an embracing Self Of mutual weirdness Meshing voices from The past Nostalgic memories for Behind the camera A lady photographed A younger self, Mirrored reflections of The lady she had graced Into through the Ages, Where contemplative deliberations Iconic wonders, flashed through Her mind With each click the metamorphosis Click;         one                 two                         three Twiggy, Edie, Kate Transformations; a sorcerers magic, Contradictions;                         body                                   mind                                             soul Mirages amidst reincarnations Never a remnant of the same For, the lady behind the lens Unseen A ghost veiled in black; The Black Orchid. © Sia Jane Dedicated & written for my darling friend Cara <3 For she shall know love <3
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
Black Orchid
Edie was caught in the claws of copulation. She was attractive, with no roots showing on the top of her scalp. Great **** great *** could hold a conversation. Everyday, she got into her workhouse of a car, more home than her dingy apartment, and drove to her first "appointment." But on this day, the appointment that loomed ahead of her had her shower cold and her face white. She drove past an old movie theatre and an abstract and title company with the fanciest sign in town. It was Edie's favorite. She glanced out the window. A regular ******* standing on the sidewalk was chatting up a woman who looked bored stiff and there was a young man a few jumps away who couldn't hold his liquor. "Pathetic," Edie muttered. An average run-of-the-mill bar slouched behind them and there were ridiculous looking people spilling out the door. But only those who had survived the night before. Across the street, a newspaper dispenser ***** and chained to a light pole stood content as its contents spilled from it's belly like the guts of a dead gazelle. Like the guts of it's readers. Like the guts of a building out an open window. Edie's ******* were sore and hurt after the manhandling of last night. They began with a ***** that got straight to the point and then they did too. He had advertised himself as "sweety but meaty" and Edie discovered later that his genitals were uncircumsized and below average. Oh well. Submission. She had a headache in the morning and no aspirin. Her decision was to stop later and get some. But before then, she had something to take care of. Something big that needed to be handled. Something she hoped would be brief. "Something," she thought, "that's for **** sure." She pulled into a front spot in her black '98 BMW, fixed her make-up, then her hair. Edie closed her eyes, took in a rather large amount of oxygen, exhaled and stepped out of the car. She had a hankering for eggs after all.
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Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 7:24 PM UTC
Edie's Breakfast Date (Pt. I)
Edie was caught in the claws of copulation. She was attractive, with no roots showing on the top of her scalp. Great **** great *** could hold a conversation. Everyday, she got into her workhouse of a car, more home than her dingy apartment, and drove to her first "appointment." But on this day, the appointment that loomed ahead of her had her shower cold and her face white. She drove past an old movie theatre and an abstract and title company with the fanciest sign in town. It was Edie's favorite. She glanced out the window. A regular ******* standing on the sidewalk was chatting up a woman who looked bored stiff and there was a young man a few jumps away who couldn't hold his liquor. "Pathetic," Edie muttered. An average run-of-the-mill bar slouched behind them and there were ridiculous looking people spilling out the door. But only those who had survived the night before. Across the street, a newspaper dispenser ***** and chained to a light pole stood content as its contents spilled from it's belly like the guts of a dead gazelle. Like the guts of it's readers. Like the guts of a building out an open window. Edie's ******* were sore and hurt after the manhandling of last night. They began with a ***** that got straight to the point and then they did too. He had advertised himself as "sweety but meaty" and Edie discovered later that his genitals were uncircumsized and below average. Oh well. Submission. She had a headache in the morning and no aspirin. Her decision was to stop later and get some. But before then, she had something to take care of. Something big that needed to be handled. Something she hoped would be brief. "Something," she thought, "that's for **** sure." She pulled into a front spot in her black '98 BMW, fixed her make-up, then her hair. Edie closed her eyes, took in a rather large amount of oxygen, exhaled and stepped out of the car. She had a hankering for eggs after all.
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49
encased with passion & desire, love & lust he waits for her still, a muse he's restless & listless, his heart beats, & bleeds, catch up, catch up, a muse leaking lover lost through, a dripping soul, red raw, vulnerable, closed, a muse a fragility so unknown to her, a naivety, oblivious, at risk from all men, a muse he couldn't have her, so he destroyed her, she disallowed all men in, a muse denial & unfazed, she's dazed, confused, he watches from the sidelines, a muse this obsession won't hit him, or maybe the day she is gone, he will, a muse drugs were a power, greater than her, releasing caged birds, an angel above, a muse. © Sia Jane
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
edie & warhol
Edie strolled into the restaurant, her favorite place as a child. The diner was decorated in a 50's theme and looked like it was a drunken night's regurgitation of the one in "Pulp Fiction." She sat down in front of her father, who had been watching her ever since she pulled up. "Jesus Christ, Edie. What did those shoes cost you?" Edie was wearing a pair of pink heels with Louboutin trademark red soles. "Enough," Edie spat, with obvious contempt for her father's concern. The waitress approached, sat her plump buttocks on the booth next to Edie's father and took their drink order. Two coffees, two waters, and an orange juice. "I want you to meet my new girlfriend, Edie." "What the **** do you mean by that?" "Have dinner with us." "No, thanks." Edie's father took a deep sigh. "I know this is about your mother---" Edie threw a ten on the table, and strode quickly to the door. Elvis, Marilyn, and Frank look-a-likes stared curiously at her full-figure. Edie sank into her car with tears rolling down her cheeks. She drove to a convenience store and purchased two bottles- Tylenol and Jack. She threw a couple swigs of each back and raced towards the Turner Motel, where her next client waited eagerly with a sweaty forehead and a chest panting like a diseased dog. Edie let it fester.
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Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 5:52 PM UTC
Diner from "Pulp Fiction" (Edie Pt. II)
In a fleeting panic my body aching my head in manic I was fitted for depression by my fashion shrink cosmic blue straightjacket boots of shocking pink Day-Glo eyelashes and a faux stole of mink I walked the streets of Soho and climbed the Factory walls a girl betwixt a boy between everybody’s darling till morning came to town in my corset of denial I took cover in the rain and sang naughty little ditties seeping from the recesses of my brain I tripped my way to Bellevue where a thousand plastic junkies awaited my return I fell into their fancy and we frolicked amidst our lies and hopped aboard an east bound train to a velvet paradise
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Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 12:49 PM UTC
Everybody’s Darling (for Edie Sedgwick and Candy Darling)
*“I’m in love with everyone I’ve ever met in one way or another. I’m just a crazy, unhinged disaster of a human being.”* Edie Sedgwick ---                                                                                  I am the undone woman,                                                                       mistaking myself                                                                                 for the girl,                                                                                others always see,                                                                               even at the call of my name I most often, walk away                                                                                   I rise & fall with the tides                                                                                   standing in the abyss                                                                                  shedding tear drops alone                                                                                  gazing at black skies; a full snow moon I am a piece of the sky a jigsaw puzzle completing this Universe I too inhabit I am the cracked mirror shattered pieces; seven years bad luck but as the cat, I have nine lives of counter attack I am all the lovers who pass through me caresses that have graced my inner thigh, the ecstasy we reach simultaneously during the love we make In the absence of another pieces of myself dilute, I only know myself by the ink I bleed as I write these words you read. I am your canvas, a picture book coloured outside the lines you call me your art &, when, the coffin door closes shut, you will know I am nothing more, than a Factory Girl, misidentified as; a thousand forms of fear. © Sia Jane
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Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
Factory Girl
*“I’m in love with everyone I’ve ever met in one way or another. I’m just a crazy, unhinged disaster of a human being.”* Edie Sedgwick ---                                                                                  I am the undone woman,                                                                       mistaking myself                                                                                 for the girl,                                                                                others always see,                                                                               even at the call of my name I most often, walk away                                                                                   I rise & fall with the tides                                                                                   standing in the abyss                                                                                  shedding tear drops alone                                                                                  gazing at black skies; a full snow moon I am a piece of the sky a jigsaw puzzle completing this Universe I too inhabit I am the cracked mirror shattered pieces; seven years bad luck but as the cat, I have nine lives of counter attack I am all the lovers who pass through me caresses that have graced my inner thigh, the ecstasy we reach simultaneously during the love we make In the absence of another pieces of myself dilute, I only know myself by the ink I bleed as I write these words you read. I am your canvas, a picture book coloured outside the lines you call me your art &, when, the coffin door closes shut, you will know I am nothing more, than a Factory Girl, misidentified as; a thousand forms of fear. © Sia Jane
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50
*He comes on like a messiah But true colors show he's just another warhol Hanging second-place decorations for all his candy's & edie's Meanwhile I'm overdosing on his love in the bathroom stall* Now I'm forced to sit and watch you leave As I desperately point out That the trees aren't bare yet And it feels like I'm drowning in a helmet made of weeds And I know you never wanted to take on my disease These tears are fierce but these eyes are weak And I'm left to paint the years with a crooked branch And a palette of whatever shade I chose to bleed All because you won't let me follow your lead I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, but you refuse to hear the noise I guess this is the moment when men become little boys
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
Another Bitter Leaving
I That idol, with black eyes and pixie-cut, with aristocrats nobler than artists, holier than New York City hipsters; his selfishness running through her veins, purple and blue like blood, or tarnished by amphetamines in waves of ferocious sadness and yearning. At the border of her life- young hope twinkles, fades and dulls out- the girl with chandelier earrings, deer legs, dancing in silver reflections of tears gushing from the aftermath of shattered dreams dressed up as vivid illusions. Ladies who stroll outside of society, girls plucked from art school, with trust funds, superb luxury wardrobes, jewels on show but riches hidden in the ground of trusting valleys in burnt gardens- young and broken with eyes full of flashing lights, sullen, princess of costume and keeping hidden. Gently ignored and choked, unhappy. What boredom, without your "genius." It is she, the little girl, dead before innocence- The young artist, alive, does not stoop- his life creeks but for a second. His inspiration empty and studio up for sale. Her shutters pulled down and the key to superstardom in the lock forever because the soul is empty. The city's silver fountains drowned and cried for her fabulous elegance. II I am the life who mourns like blue summertime. I am the academic who waves manuscripts on elusive "culture" and "style." I am the pedestrian who looks up to the sky then turns to the ground. Smoggy greyness and dead black concrete pleads me to keep searching. I might well be the same child; lost and unhappy and hungry. Dreaming of touching stars but miles from Heaven. I am the artist. Manipulative creator and selfishness embedded into the sinews of my heart. The lamp shines brightly on these happy photographs. I keep falling for these stupid books. Edie, oh, Edie. You have gone and the world is ending!
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Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
Edie
I That idol, with black eyes and pixie-cut, with aristocrats nobler than artists, holier than New York City hipsters; his selfishness running through her veins, purple and blue like blood, or tarnished by amphetamines in waves of ferocious sadness and yearning. At the border of her life- young hope twinkles, fades and dulls out- the girl with chandelier earrings, deer legs, dancing in silver reflections of tears gushing from the aftermath of shattered dreams dressed up as vivid illusions. Ladies who stroll outside of society, girls plucked from art school, with trust funds, superb luxury wardrobes, jewels on show but riches hidden in the ground of trusting valleys in burnt gardens- young and broken with eyes full of flashing lights, sullen, princess of costume and keeping hidden. Gently ignored and choked, unhappy. What boredom, without your "genius." It is she, the little girl, dead before innocence- The young artist, alive, does not stoop- his life creeks but for a second. His inspiration empty and studio up for sale. Her shutters pulled down and the key to superstardom in the lock forever because the soul is empty. The city's silver fountains drowned and cried for her fabulous elegance. II I am the life who mourns like blue summertime. I am the academic who waves manuscripts on elusive "culture" and "style." I am the pedestrian who looks up to the sky then turns to the ground. Smoggy greyness and dead black concrete pleads me to keep searching. I might well be the same child; lost and unhappy and hungry. Dreaming of touching stars but miles from Heaven. I am the artist. Manipulative creator and selfishness embedded into the sinews of my heart. The lamp shines brightly on these happy photographs. I keep falling for these stupid books. Edie, oh, Edie. You have gone and the world is ending!
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42
You weren't the poetic one, but I just read Kaddish and thought of you;            of 1998 beach photo, Sussex somewhere - as I remember you, perhaps a bit younger;            of sweet peroxide blonde, hiding brunette. I was naive to the dye 'til I saw 'the Hepburn shot' - that 1950 something print, you in Rembrandt light,            or the black beehive wig in family portrait— 1970ish— dicky bows and cocktail dresses - Dad, aged seven, in a shirt and trousers;            of youthful snapshots: Portobello Beach, Edinburgh (4), with parents in Kent (8), your gang of girls some snowy place (14), painting the house with Raymond in Croydon (20);            of latter digital images, 2012, more gaunt and wrinkled, but ever-beautiful - seemingly ageless, as you wished;            of care and trust and overdone vegetables, thin gravy, brussel sprout production lines - beautiful, mundane memories at Cowfold breakfast bar or Langley Green kitchen tops;            of seaside trips to Shoreham, Portsmouth, Brighton, dogs homes and holding my hand past the loud ones;            of picking roses from the garden for 'perfume' - sticky hands, wet floors and beautiful smells;            of early morning rude awakenings, met only with cheer and offers of tea and toast - I still have your butter tray (hospitable even in death);            of my brother's wedding, taking time to jive and seem alive whilst everyone else was dying inside, despite the fact that it was you, and you only, who should care the most (and thus, if you didn't, why should we have);            and of that very temperament, infamous tempers never shown—at least to us—just pure, kind acceptance and forgiveness.            You weren't the poetic one.            You were; the ninth child of a ****** and his wife                               the girl with the Scottish accent                               the wife of an engineer from Mitcham                               the mother of three, the loser of one                               the stern face of discipline                               the BT telephone operator, the masseuse                               the grandmother of three boys                               the ageless face of beauty                               the one I remember best            You told me you couldn't recall your siblings' names - I've looked into it. Ada, Jack, Edie, Emmie, Mabel, Joyce, Raymond, Terence.
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Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
Margaret Rose
You weren't the poetic one, but I just read Kaddish and thought of you;            of 1998 beach photo, Sussex somewhere - as I remember you, perhaps a bit younger;            of sweet peroxide blonde, hiding brunette. I was naive to the dye 'til I saw 'the Hepburn shot' - that 1950 something print, you in Rembrandt light,            or the black beehive wig in family portrait— 1970ish— dicky bows and cocktail dresses - Dad, aged seven, in a shirt and trousers;            of youthful snapshots: Portobello Beach, Edinburgh (4), with parents in Kent (8), your gang of girls some snowy place (14), painting the house with Raymond in Croydon (20);            of latter digital images, 2012, more gaunt and wrinkled, but ever-beautiful - seemingly ageless, as you wished;            of care and trust and overdone vegetables, thin gravy, brussel sprout production lines - beautiful, mundane memories at Cowfold breakfast bar or Langley Green kitchen tops;            of seaside trips to Shoreham, Portsmouth, Brighton, dogs homes and holding my hand past the loud ones;            of picking roses from the garden for 'perfume' - sticky hands, wet floors and beautiful smells;            of early morning rude awakenings, met only with cheer and offers of tea and toast - I still have your butter tray (hospitable even in death);            of my brother's wedding, taking time to jive and seem alive whilst everyone else was dying inside, despite the fact that it was you, and you only, who should care the most (and thus, if you didn't, why should we have);            and of that very temperament, infamous tempers never shown—at least to us—just pure, kind acceptance and forgiveness.            You weren't the poetic one.            You were; the ninth child of a ****** and his wife                               the girl with the Scottish accent                               the wife of an engineer from Mitcham                               the mother of three, the loser of one                               the stern face of discipline                               the BT telephone operator, the masseuse                               the grandmother of three boys                               the ageless face of beauty                               the one I remember best            You told me you couldn't recall your siblings' names - I've looked into it. Ada, Jack, Edie, Emmie, Mabel, Joyce, Raymond, Terence.
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Daddy got drunk and wet in the well Oh, poor daddy Daddy got drunk and wet in the well Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Daddy got drunk and wet in the well Oh, poor daddy He told little Margie Not to tell Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Daddy had Edie on his knee Oh, poor Edie What he did to her When she was three Oh, poor Edie Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor Edie Oh, poor daddy Daddy got drunk and wet in the well Oh, poor daddy Mama bit her lip and got beat to hell Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy Oh, poor daddy
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Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC
Oh, Poor Daddy
Still hexed, unemployed, another daylong bout between too much silence and too much noise, I turn on the TV and watch our show. Season 4, Episode 13, "Whitecaps." And it's the scene after the Russian mistress has called, and Carmella—played to long suffering perfection by Edie Falco—kicks Tony out of the house. The scene sticks with me, the way Carmella's body shakes, the deep grooves of her wrinkled face when she says she can't stand to be embarrassed anymore. And I'm caught off guard by two things, one simple, the other not so much. I think about how you must of related to Edie Falco out of the gate, on a surface level. You both share a prominent nose, one you were always self conscious about, but a nose you found beautiful on her face. I always wanted to ask you about it, but I never found a gentle enough phrasing. And the other thing, the complex thing, is how the whole scene runs parallel to our second break up, the bad one, the early morning fight. I remember you striking my chest over and over. I remember grabbing your wrists, trying to restrain you, and you wriggled out of my grasp only to strike your head on a cabinet. I tried to comfort you, and you wouldn't let me drive you home. You walked. I couldn't find you. By the time I got dressed, you'd found some path unknown to me. Gentle enough phrasing. That's why it ended one, two, three times, isn't it? My inability to be straight with you, to say how I truly felt without massaging the words to safeguard against any conflict. I wish I could watch the show with you again. I wish it was 9:00 p.m. I wish we both had work in the morning. I wish we'd watch one episode too many with the dogs snuggling in our laps. I wish we could listen to them paw at the bedroom door as we undressed. But we've jettisoned ourselves, haven't we? It's irreparable. I think of something you said about depression. You told me that when it was bad, really bad, you could never feel clean. I don't feel clean, no matter how much I wash. I don't feel clean, no matter the quality of deed, the grace of the statement, the preciousness of a future good memory unfolding in real time.
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Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 5:17 AM UTC
Watching The Sopranos Without You
Still hexed, unemployed, another daylong bout between too much silence and too much noise, I turn on the TV and watch our show. Season 4, Episode 13, "Whitecaps." And it's the scene after the Russian mistress has called, and Carmella—played to long suffering perfection by Edie Falco—kicks Tony out of the house. The scene sticks with me, the way Carmella's body shakes, the deep grooves of her wrinkled face when she says she can't stand to be embarrassed anymore. And I'm caught off guard by two things, one simple, the other not so much. I think about how you must of related to Edie Falco out of the gate, on a surface level. You both share a prominent nose, one you were always self conscious about, but a nose you found beautiful on her face. I always wanted to ask you about it, but I never found a gentle enough phrasing. And the other thing, the complex thing, is how the whole scene runs parallel to our second break up, the bad one, the early morning fight. I remember you striking my chest over and over. I remember grabbing your wrists, trying to restrain you, and you wriggled out of my grasp only to strike your head on a cabinet. I tried to comfort you, and you wouldn't let me drive you home. You walked. I couldn't find you. By the time I got dressed, you'd found some path unknown to me. Gentle enough phrasing. That's why it ended one, two, three times, isn't it? My inability to be straight with you, to say how I truly felt without massaging the words to safeguard against any conflict. I wish I could watch the show with you again. I wish it was 9:00 p.m. I wish we both had work in the morning. I wish we'd watch one episode too many with the dogs snuggling in our laps. I wish we could listen to them paw at the bedroom door as we undressed. But we've jettisoned ourselves, haven't we? It's irreparable. I think of something you said about depression. You told me that when it was bad, really bad, you could never feel clean. I don't feel clean, no matter how much I wash. I don't feel clean, no matter the quality of deed, the grace of the statement, the preciousness of a future good memory unfolding in real time.
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6
The Chelsea Hotel We remember it well An' its splendid interior decor By never setting foot there A very Bohemian Rhapsody Two Dylans are thrilling One Bob an' one Thomas One life and one death A song and poetic requiem A Sad Eyed Beautiful moment Another unquietly into the night Embracing the dread valley below Sweet Syd and Saint Nancy Perished like lovers in drama No light at yonder window For a rocking Romeo and Juliet Breathless in period splendour Lovers in tragically beautiful embrace Immortality in the perfect place Edie set her room on fire Our heroine couldn't get much higher As the ceiling just got lower Another window was another score When the ceiling hit the floor Unbroken she was beautiful like a woman Dancing eyes across the hotel floor Her world moving in that revolving door The Chelsea Hotel has more to tell That Hotel California couldn't rival That's why it’s there in New York City An island of dreams in a concrete ocean Where all lost writers find a paradise Checking in is our one remaining dream Checking it out our beautiful possibility.
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Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 12:43 PM UTC
The Chelsea Hotel
**Uncle 'erbert on the Joanna Aunty Mabel on the mike. Singing rollout the barrel All Alf ****** on saturday nite. Cousin Doris in the armchairs Face to stop a ****** clock Giving me the greasy eyeball And a stare to knock me round the block Grandad 'arrys in the money His nag came in at 1O to 1 Granny Edie's sweet as honey She get sour when all the money's gone. Cousin Cecil pudding and pie Kissed the girls and made em cry. And when the boys came out to play He kissed them too Cos he's a bit that way. It will end in a ****** fight Mixing this loss is hit and miss But they do it every saturday nite It's just my family on the ****
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Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
Those old time Saturday nights
I wear a mask when I'm with you, I can't help how you make me hide.
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Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 7:46 PM UTC
Edie