two_grey_rooms: (gratuitous boobage)
"Beneath My Hands"
by Leonard Cohen

Beneath my hands
your small breasts
are the upturned bellies
of breathing fallen sparrows.

Wherever you move
I hear the sounds of closing wings
of falling wings.

I am speechless
because you have fallen beside me
because your eyelashes
are the spines of tiny fragile animals.

I dread the time
when your mouth
begins to call me hunter.

When you call me close
to tell me
your body is not beautiful
I want to summon
the eyes and hidden mouths
of stone and light and water
to testify against you.

I want them
to surrender before you
the trembling rhyme of your face
from their deep caskets.

When you call me close
to tell me
your body is not beautiful
I want my body and my hands
to be pools
for your looking and laughing.

additional rambling for those so inclined )
two_grey_rooms: (gratuitous boobage)
"Beneath My Hands"
by Leonard Cohen

Beneath my hands
your small breasts
are the upturned bellies
of breathing fallen sparrows.

Wherever you move
I hear the sounds of closing wings
of falling wings.

I am speechless
because you have fallen beside me
because your eyelashes
are the spines of tiny fragile animals.

I dread the time
when your mouth
begins to call me hunter.

When you call me close
to tell me
your body is not beautiful
I want to summon
the eyes and hidden mouths
of stone and light and water
to testify against you.

I want them
to surrender before you
the trembling rhyme of your face
from their deep caskets.

When you call me close
to tell me
your body is not beautiful
I want my body and my hands
to be pools
for your looking and laughing.

additional rambling for those so inclined )
two_grey_rooms: (in this illusionary place)
So, today I was aiming to make a post about America's First President To Have Paraphrased Spider-Man And What He Means To Me, but I opted instead to go up to my room, to very quickly drop off my coat, and then somehow I found myself waking up twenty years later in the middle of the Catskill mountains with a crazy fuckin' beard and a revolution I knew nothing about underway in my motherland, and my wife is dead, and MY LIFE WAS LIKE TOTALLY OVER--

And then I decided to stop being Rip Van Winkle and study for my math test like the diligent little student I am. Even though it was almost six-o-fucking-clock, WHAT.

Which is what I did all day night, sans eat dinner, which is why I was going to go back to sleep without so much as a flist comment today, but my dad just came home from his Very Important Temple Gathering. Evidently, the featured film of his Very Important Moth-Ball-Scented, Sweater-Vest-Clad Temple Gathering Film Night was not about "uhhh some old Jewish person!" ("...could you be a little more specific than that, Dad?" "Uhhh I think, something about, uh, art?") as was promised over the phone, but was about MARC FUCKING CHAGALL whom I love madly (who is, admittedly, some old--if by "old" you mean "dead"--Jewish person with something to do with art, but so is my grandma and her collection of horrifying malformed beaded animals).

My precious father, who is officially the preciousest dad in all the land, tried to make it up to me by offering to stalk Marc Chagall's granddaughter in her place of employ. I wish I knew what to make of this.

eta: BECAUSE MY DAD'S BRAIN, LET ME SHOW IT TO YOU. It only gets crackier.

DAD: ALSO MARC CHAGALL SPOKE TO US AND HE WAS REALLY NICE!
ME: Dad, Marc Chagall is dead oh my god what sect of Judaism did you say your temple was again?
DAD: HA HA HA.
ME: No, but seriously, he's dead. You, you know this, right?
DAD: YES!
ME: ...?!?
DAD: I MEANT. HE SPOKE. IN THE MOVIE. OH OH IT'S STILL PLAYING! YOU COULD SEE IT WITH ME! MICHELLE MICHELLE COME BE JEWISH WITH ME!!!

Next week, you guys, I am going to join my father in COMMUNING WITH THE DEAD. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? I'M LOOKIN' AT YOU, MR. OBAMA. CAN YOU ZOMBIFY MARC CHAGALL? I THINK NOT!
two_grey_rooms: (in this illusionary place)
So, today I was aiming to make a post about America's First President To Have Paraphrased Spider-Man And What He Means To Me, but I opted instead to go up to my room, to very quickly drop off my coat, and then somehow I found myself waking up twenty years later in the middle of the Catskill mountains with a crazy fuckin' beard and a revolution I knew nothing about underway in my motherland, and my wife is dead, and MY LIFE WAS LIKE TOTALLY OVER--

And then I decided to stop being Rip Van Winkle and study for my math test like the diligent little student I am. Even though it was almost six-o-fucking-clock, WHAT.

Which is what I did all day night, sans eat dinner, which is why I was going to go back to sleep without so much as a flist comment today, but my dad just came home from his Very Important Temple Gathering. Evidently, the featured film of his Very Important Moth-Ball-Scented, Sweater-Vest-Clad Temple Gathering Film Night was not about "uhhh some old Jewish person!" ("...could you be a little more specific than that, Dad?" "Uhhh I think, something about, uh, art?") as was promised over the phone, but was about MARC FUCKING CHAGALL whom I love madly (who is, admittedly, some old--if by "old" you mean "dead"--Jewish person with something to do with art, but so is my grandma and her collection of horrifying malformed beaded animals).

My precious father, who is officially the preciousest dad in all the land, tried to make it up to me by offering to stalk Marc Chagall's granddaughter in her place of employ. I wish I knew what to make of this.

eta: BECAUSE MY DAD'S BRAIN, LET ME SHOW IT TO YOU. It only gets crackier.

DAD: ALSO MARC CHAGALL SPOKE TO US AND HE WAS REALLY NICE!
ME: Dad, Marc Chagall is dead oh my god what sect of Judaism did you say your temple was again?
DAD: HA HA HA.
ME: No, but seriously, he's dead. You, you know this, right?
DAD: YES!
ME: ...?!?
DAD: I MEANT. HE SPOKE. IN THE MOVIE. OH OH IT'S STILL PLAYING! YOU COULD SEE IT WITH ME! MICHELLE MICHELLE COME BE JEWISH WITH ME!!!

Next week, you guys, I am going to join my father in COMMUNING WITH THE DEAD. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? I'M LOOKIN' AT YOU, MR. OBAMA. CAN YOU ZOMBIFY MARC CHAGALL? I THINK NOT!
two_grey_rooms: (Default)
MY DAD: "I'll be gay for Jon Stewart."

I FINALLY GOT HIM TO SAY IT. FINALLY.

This joyous occasion must be preserved in my journal forevermore. I SHALL REMEMBER THIS DAY FOREVERS AND EVERS AND EVERS AND EVERS.

-is ridiculously proud of self-
two_grey_rooms: (Default)
MY DAD: "I'll be gay for Jon Stewart."

I FINALLY GOT HIM TO SAY IT. FINALLY.

This joyous occasion must be preserved in my journal forevermore. I SHALL REMEMBER THIS DAY FOREVERS AND EVERS AND EVERS AND EVERS.

-is ridiculously proud of self-

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