A deer!—nibbling on the few green things
that grow in my strawy meadow.
Mine, we say here: my studio, my meadow, my road.
It is as it is. We were born
to possess it all and more. There’s no longer
a chance to change direction. So have one. Have a meadow,
Try it on—there are black-eyed Susans in your hair.
Have a deer. Have a deer fly—(I had two
of them yesterday. My stained tablet backs me up).
Have a swallow. Try to hold it in your throat
as it goes down beyond the pines of your forest.
But first feel its presence, try to catch
its essence. Before the words intrude.
I read books.
…I AM DONE WITH AP AND IB TESTS.
I met you coiled, walking on the far side of the slope
Where it should have been too shaded and cool
For your improbable body to exist.
Absentminded, as I often am when others can’t see,
I tripped ahead of you and you sprung to life
At my sudden intrusion.
As I gasp for air and attempt to stand
With my feet rooted in fragile ground
So you might think I’m but a tree,
Another scrub oak in this endlessly
The perversity of your body, its ability to kill
Mine in your gleaming white fangs,
The truth of what I left behind when I forgot
Where I came from in the first place—
You could bite and I would not cry,
Nor mourn myself, whether I
Lived or died.
But my heart would beat until it
And you could climb me like you’d climb a tree,
Sliding sinuous around my branches to my
Crown, where you would perch like validation.
Instead, after a moment of tense
Standoff where my mind whites in panic,
You slide off in a blur of diamonds,
Regressing to the rocks I once called
I UNDERSTAND NOW. I UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING.
i need to go to bed.
You may have seen The Great Gatsby over the weekend, but wait until you see The Great Catsby.
I was going to do a review of this but then I got lazy. Now all I can think about is how good those macarons look.
No but actually I liked it a lot. More than I thought I would. It would have been better with cats though.
Queen of procrastination.
I am procrastinating by finding all the procrastination pictures on tumblr.
it’s okay ib tests aren’t real.
My drawing about me
This speaks to me on a personal level.
Okay can we just talk about how beautifully brilliant and poignantly perfect this book is? It is THE graphic novel, and I’m sure people will disagree with me on that, but seriously. For graphic novel connoisseurs, it is a richly detailed, beautiful plunge into Craig Thompson’s mind. For skeptics, it’s proof that graphic novels can be literature, too.
There’s not much I can put into words about this book. Just do yourself a favor and go read it. You’ll be left crying and laughing and wondering and the simultaneous failure and utter beauty of humanity and the world in general. Just…gaaaahhhh.
5/5 love it in every way possible.