Category Archives: DESPERATION

“Moll-buzzer! You sneezed a parrot from me jernt on Broome!

http://www.herbertasbury.com/Kelly_Eastman111 realnewyork00hugh_04032She was beautiful in a neutral way, emitting no light, defining herself in terms of attrition, a skinny thing, near blond, far beyond recall from the hard-edged rhythms of her life, Southwestern woman, hard to remember and forget…There was never a moment between us that did not measure the extent of our true connection. To go harder, take more, die first.”

― Don DeLillo, Great Jones Street

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The end of the end was the best place to begin.

 

 

 

 

The Elephant’s Nostalgia

This is the door.

http://redroomcompany.org/poem/lindsay-tuggle/elephants-nostalgia/

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The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. : 1848 – 1957), Friday 10 February 1956,

1 1 1 1 1 The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. - 1848 - 1957), Friday 10 February 1956,

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John Godfrey Saxe’s ( 1816-1887) version of the famous Indian legend,

It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

The First approach’d the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
“God bless me! but the Elephant
Is very like a wall!”

The Second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried, -“Ho! what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me ’tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear!”

The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up and spake:
“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant
Is very like a snake!”

The Fourth reached out his eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
“What most this wondrous beast is like
Is mighty plain,” quoth he,
“‘Tis clear enough the Elephant
Is very like a tree!”

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: “E’en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant
Is very like a fan!”

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Then, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant
Is very like a rope!”

And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!

MORAL.

So oft in theologic wars,
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

http://www.noogenesis.com/pineapple/blind_men_elephant.html

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“The whole thing’s illusion, [Jacob], and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s what people want from us. It’s what they expect.”
― Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants

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My head is like a bad neighbourhood and I shouldn’t go in there alone

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Woroni (Canberra, ACT : 1950 – 2007), Monday 2 July 1973, page 1
National Library of Australia http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article140093399

It is walking in the night
after the theatres and before the milkman
alerted by some signal from the golden drug tapeworm
that eats yr
flesh and drinks yr peace
you reach for a needle and busy yrself
preparing the Utopia substance in a blackened
spoon held in candle flame
by now yr thumb and finger are leathery
being so often burned this way

it hurts much less than withdrawal and the hand
is needed for little else now anyway
Then cordon off the arm with a belt
probe for a vein, send the dream transfusion out
on a voyage among your body machinery.

Hits you like sleep –
sweet illusory, fast, with a semblance of forever.
For a while the fire dies down in you
until you die down in the fires.
Once you become a drug addict
you
will never want to be anything else.

The Author of this poem is now dead.

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“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”

― Edgar Allan Poe

See – chaos spark, struck from flint and the plunging distemper, flare in the dawn’s dull seep of milkcart horse, morning horse chaos horse

 

 

Mithridatum of Despair

We know no mithridatum of despair
as drunks, the angry penguins of the night,
straddling the cobbles of the square,
tying a shoelace by fogged lamplight.
We know no astringent pain,
no flecking of thought’s dull eternal sea
in garret image, of Spain
and love…now love’s parody.

See – chaos spark, struck from flint
and the plunging distemper, flare in the dawn’s dull seep
of milkcart horse, morning horse
chaos horse, walking at three to the doors of sleep
with the creamy poison.
convulsions endure
from nine to five,
all life immure.
and still alive.

we know no mithridatum, nor the remembered dregs of fear,
the glass stands dry and silted; no end is near.

MAX HARRIS

http://www.ernmalley.com/harris_poetry.html
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The World's News (Sydney, NSW - 1901 - 1955), Saturday 23 April 1927

 

The World’s News (Sydney, NSW : 1901 – 1955), Saturday 23 April 1927

Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Give him a fishing lesson and he’ll sit in a boat drinking beer every weekend. Alex Blackwell

1 BUCKLANDS BOAT HIRE

 

foto – bucklands boat hire in mallacoota in victoria aust

Stephen Nguyen 

In 1982, one of MG99 group leader Stephen Nguyen’s sisters, a Catholic nun, was lost at sea while fleeing Vietnam. He wrote this haunting poem in her honour.

Painful are the memories of those who perished out at sea,

Desperate for a better fate,

In search of freedom where the sea await,

As darkness hides the tiny boat

full of people filled with hope.

It seems to be such an endless night,

With freedom nowhere in sight.

Poverty is in want of much, avarice of everything.

http://masterrussian.com/proverbs/russian_proverbs.htm

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As we became subjects of King Alcohol, shivering denizens of his mad realm, the chilling vapour that is loneliness settled down. It thickened, ever becoming blacker. Some of us sought out sordid places, hoping to find understanding companionship and approval. Momentarily we did — then would come oblivion and the awful awakening to face the hideous Four Horsemen — Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration, Despair.

ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS, The Big Book

 

The Bow’ry, the Bow’ry! They say such things, And they do strange things On the Bow’ry! The Bow’ry! I’ll never go there anymore!

The Bowery’ is a song from the musical A Trip to Chinatown with music by Percy Gaunt and lyrics by Charles H. Hoyt. The musical toured the country for several years and then opened on Broadway in 1891

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bowery_%28song%29

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“Walk the Bowery under the El at night and all you feel is a sort of cold guilt. Touched for a dime, you try to drop the coin and not touch the hand, because the hand is dirty; you try to avoid the glance, because the glance accuses. This is not so much personal menace as universal — the cold menace of unresolved human suffering and poverty and the advanced stages of the disease alcoholism.”

― E.B. White, Here Is New York

most Substance-addicted people are also addicted to thinking, meaning they have a compulsive and unhealthy relationship with their own thinking.”

― David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

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“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”
― Edgar Allan Poe

I’ve played the powerless in too many dark scenes. I was blessed with a birth and a death and I guess I just want some say in between.

― Ani DiFranco

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“There were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest.”

― Anaïs Nin

No individual is isolated. He who is sad, saddens others.”

― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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“There I was, cold, isolated and desperate for something I knew I couldn’t have.
A solution. A remedy. Anything.

…I hated it. Alone and confused was the last place I wanted to be.
Somehow I knew I deserved this.”

― Brian Krans, A Constant Suicide

When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.”

― Abraham Lincoln

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“Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape.”

Burroughs, William S.

– See more at: http://quotationsbook.com/quotes/tag/desperation/#sthash.wbXkz0pC.dpuf

Genius is not a gift, but the way a person invents in desperate circumstances.”

― Jean-Paul Sartre

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“I had never liked, even feared a little, this wild reach of marsh and mud flats where everything seemed turned away from the land, looking off desperately toward the horizon as if in mute search for a sign of rescue.”

― John Banville, The Sea

Well, she wore far too much rouge last night, and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of desperation in a woman.”

― Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband

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Life is magnificent – just as it comes.
Life has no need for fancy clothes, or lipstick.
Life is no pig.
Our life is the greatest gift of all creation.
When we are unhappy with life –
when we are shocked by the stock market,
or dismayed by our choice of political candidates,
let us not lash out in anger.
But also, let us not try to pretty up life
with some lipstick and some party clothes.
See life clearly – no rose coloured glasses –
and then CHOOSE to love life.
CHOOSE to be happy, be joyful, be grateful,
be forgiving of everyone and of every act
we believe has hurt us.
Life just “IS.”
We get to CHOOSE our relationship with life.
– Jonathan Lockwood Huie

 

They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.

William Shakespeare

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“In Panama, I found a spider that eats its own limbs during lean times. I am told they grow back. But though the distinction is razor-thin, desperation is not the same thing as determination. Nevertheless, auto-cannibalism is one the most intriguing phenomenon I have ever heard of.”

― Taona Dumisani Chiveneko, The Hangman’s Replacement: Sprout of Disruption

If there is no wind, row.

Latin

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“She was like a drowning person, flailing, reaching for anything that might save her. Her life was an urgent, desperate struggle to justify her life.”

― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

As smoking is to the lungs, so is resentment to the soul; even one puff is bad for you. Elizabeth Gilbert

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“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”

Edgar Allan Poe