Jonathan Carroll's Blog, page 77

CarrollBlog 9.1

A Thank-You Note to Men

By Mary-Louise Parker

To you, whom it may concern:

Manly creature, who smells good even when you don't, you wake up too slowly, with fuzzy, vertical hair and a slightly lost look on your face as though you are seven or seventy-five; you can fix my front door, my sink, and open most jars; you, who lose a cuff link and have to settle for a safety pin, you have promised to slay unfortunate interlopers and dragons with your Phillips head or Montblanc; to you, because you w

CarrollBlog 8.31

In My Next Life

by Mark Perlberg

I will own a sailboat sleek

as fingers of wind

and ply the green islands

of the gulf of Maine.

In my next life I will pilot a plane,

and enjoy the light artillery

of the air as I fly to our island

and set down with aplomb

on its grass runway.

I'll be a whiz at math, master five or six

of the world's languages, write poems

strong as Frost and Milosz.

In my next life I won't wonder why

I lie awake from four till daybreak.

I'll be amiable. mostly, but large

and fo

CarrollBlog 8.30

What are days for?

Days are where we live.

They come, they wake us

Time and time over.

They are to be happy in:

Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question

Brings the priest and the doctor

In their long coats

Running over the fields.

Philip Larkin

CarrollBlog 8.29

If You Forget Me

by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know

one thing.

You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats

that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,

if little by little you stop loving me

I shall st

CarrollBlog 8.28

Sometimes as you're chugging through your day, you see or hear something that completely stops you and makes your mind move in all kinds of interesting different directions. Walking down a busy street, I looked up and saw a blind woman (sunglasses, white cane) moving toward me. Then she stopped, turned right and walked into a hip women's boutique. My mind started racing—how does a blind person shop for clothes? Feel? Touch? Do they ask for help, do the people who work in the shop say oh no, that

CarrollBlog 8.27

Hooray for the old people, mad or halfway there, who are shouting and gesturing furiously at the world as they walk down the street. You see them and do a double take— who are they talking to? Are they talking to me? When you're sure neither is true, you watch them in their fury raging at everything and nothing. High drama. Opera without music. When was the last time you screeched and howled like that at anything? It would be easiest to say those poor people—life has driven them around the bend.

CarrollBlog 8.26

"We're often wrong at predicting who or what will transform us. Encountering certain people, books, music, places or ideas… at just the right time can immediately make our lives happier, richer, more beautiful, resonant or meaningful. When it happens we feel a kind of instant love for them that is both deep and abiding. Now and then it can be something as trifling as a children's book, a returned telephone call, or a seaside bar at night in Greece."

from the new book

CarrollBlog 8.25

"I believe in things that serve their function well and can be used again and again with trust. I have read about an artist who makes ladders that cannot be climbed -- the steps go every which way. It's an interesting idea; it challenges our sensibilities, but only for a minute. Then it's just what you said -- the work of a wiseguy. What I still can't understand is why someone would put so much of their life and imagination into doing that sort of work every day. Building a ladder that goes nowh

CarrollBlog 8.24

interesting distinction:

"Eric Fromm's distinction between benign and malignant aggression – benign aggression being only used for survival and is rooted in human instinct, whereas malignant aggression is destructive and is based in human character."

CarrollBlog 8.23

"What was astonishing to him was how people seemed to run out of their own being, run out of whatever the stuff was that made them who they were, and, drained of themselves, turn into the sort of people they would once have felt sorry for."

Philip Roth