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The seeds of stories…


The seeds of our stories are planted within ourselves. We might jot down ideas in a journal or pour our hearts out on the page of a first draft in a highly personal and uncensored manner. We formulate our innermost thoughts and then record our experiences, or sketch fictional characters and plots. We reach down deep within ourselves and see what germinates. This is healing. – Tracy Strauss, Harnessing Creativity

Kissing the muse…

Image of Kit Harington and Emilia Clarke, Rolling Stone Mag 2012

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Great spirits now on earth are sojourning…

Keats3An excerpt from AUTOBIOGRAPHY by Benjamin Robert Hayden

KEATS

About this time (October 1816) I met John Keats at Leigh Hunt’s, and was amazingly interested by him prematurity of intellectual and poetical power.

I read one or two of his sonnets and formed a very high idea of his genius. After a short time I liked him so much that a general invitation on my part followed, and we became extremely intimate. He visited my painting-room at all times, and at all times was welcome.

He was below the middle size, with a low forehead and an eye that had an inward look, perfectly divine, like a Delphian priestess who saw visions. The greatest calamity for Keats was his being brought before the world by a set who had so much the habit of puffing each other that every one connected with it suffered in public estimation. Hence every one was inclined to disbelieve his genius. …

One evening (November 19, 1816) after a most eager interchange of thoughts I received from Keats his sonnet, beginning “Great spirits now on earth are sojourning.” I thanked him, and he wrote, “Your letter has filled me with a proud pleasure, and shall be kept by me as a stimulus to exertion. I begin to fix my eye on one horizon. The idea of your sending it to Wordsworth puts me out of breath. You know with what reverence I would send my well wishes to him.”

As I was walking one day with him in the Kilburn meadows, he said: “Haydon, what a pity it is there is not a human dusthole.”

Bright-Star-movies-9133146-1600-1000KeatsTLS: When did Keats become a great writer? Ask Gigante

Hear sexy Tom Hiddleston read Bright Star here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vlIXu9C3Hw

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Walking outdoors while reading…

2015-10-24 21.46.14

book2

pride

What Do Jane Austen’s Novels tell us about love and life today?
NY Times bookends

elizabethWalking outdoors while reading…

(Keira Knightley in Pride and Prejudice)

reading

book3

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The Empty Wine Bottle…

empty_bottles_in_woods_lunar_xmas_1The Empty Wine Bottle and the Bourgeois Poet

Cool article on a writer’s life via The Wit of the Staircase, Theresa Duncan.

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Blogging and Chris Cornell…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhJ9IwYc5NU

chris Cornell 2

Chris Cornell

chris cornell 3New favorite song for the new year…nearly forgot my broken heart…

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A few thoughts…

bookStill reading…still writing…actually re-writing a novel second time…

my styleWinter is here…almost…

tumblr_nzzwn2eUdA1uiaznio1_250Love Natalie…

black-white-apartment-ideas-wood-2A delightful space

necklace

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Somewhere…with a dog…

elite.styleNadja Bender by Cedric Buchet

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An Annual of the Dark Physics


The Baltic Sea froze in 1307. Birds flew north
From the Mediterranean in early January.
There were meteor storms throughout Europe.

On the first day of Lent
Two children took their own lives:
Their bodies
Were sewn into goats’ skins

And were dragged by the hangman’s horse
The three miles down to the sea.
They were given a simple grave in the sand.

The following Sunday, Meister Eckhart
Shouted that a secret word
Had been spoken to him. He preached

That Mary Magdalene
Sought a dead man in the tomb
But, in her confusion, found
Only two angels laughing…

This was a consequence of her purity

And her all to human grief.
The Baltic Sea
Also froze in 1303–

nothing happened that was worthy of poetry.

~Norman Dubie
 

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A new year…

christmasEvery year around Christmas time I get this surge of inspiration with a new year coming… It is celestially late this time however and is falling completely on today, New Year’s Eve.

We don’t have big party plans (haven’t done that in ages) but we always do a movie (tonight it will be the new Star Wars flick, I may cry I’m such a nerd) and escape for a bit, eat something good, and drink of course! Tonight is no different. Felt my surge of inspiring thought during a tough, yet groovy yoga class this morning (fell apart emotionally during it, which I believe was a good thing) which enlightened my spirit and has left me…hopeful.

May the new year bring you more joy, creativity and inspiration than you thought possible.
My wish for all my dear Wit followers…

A few Wit-ful inspirations for today…

what im wearingWhat I’m wearing…wishes…

_quebec-city-quebec-cr-gettyIf there would be snow…I’d want it to look like this…

winter

paris Ice skating Le Grand-PalaisIce skating in Paris…

paris macronspretty things…

my white world

mala…see the beauty in every crack in the veneer of happiness…love every imperfection in humanity…hold the world’s aching sadness in the center of yourself. ~ Kino MacGregor, The Power of Ashtanga Yoga

yoga works“Luminous beings we are, not this crude matter.” – Yoda

6 Reasons Why Yogis are Jedi Knights

Parisian-Apartment-soft-white-bedroom-with-black-accents-and-potted-tree2A place to love and dream…

new year's cheers

Happy New Year!

 

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Wiederkehr

 

rain

Wiederkehr

He only wanted me for happiness,
to walk in air
and not think so much,
to watch the smile
begun in his eyes
end on the lips
his eyes caressed.

He merely hoped, in darkness, to smell
rain; and though he saw how still
I sat to hold the rain untouched
inside me, he never asked
if I would stay. Which is why,
when the choice appeared,
I reached for it.

~Rita Dove

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I sit and wait…

Hunter_and_I_sit_and_wait

Hunter and I Sit and Wait
by Susan Anderson

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Nothing so lovely as a tree…

nothing_so_lovely_as_a_tree_2

“…humans and woods are ancient partners of linked origins,

and could be so again…”

More here

via The Wit of the Staircase

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Demeter, Waiting…

IMG_2276

No. Who can bear it. Only someone
who hates herself, who believes
to pull a hand back from a daughter’s cheek
is to put love into her pocket–like one of those ashen Christian
philosophers, or a war-bound soldier.

winter

She is gone again and I will not bear
it, I will drag my grief through a winter
of my own making, refuse
any meadow that recycles itself into
hope. Shit on the cicadas, dry meteor
flash, finicky butterflies. I will wail and thrash
until the whole goddamned golden panorama freezes
over. Then I will sit down and wait for her. Yes.

~ Rita Dove, Demeter, Waiting

Images: Emilia Clarke, my edits
and Winter image via Pinterest

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Only A God or A Woman…

kate_moss_belle_et_bete_crown_1

“The Koh-i-Noor diamond was mined in India in around 1100 and probably originated from Golconda in the southern region of Andhra Pradesh. The shape and size of a small hen’s egg, the diamond attained a sinister mystique…

continued here

Random post from The Wit of the Staircase by Theresa Duncan

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with you…

bails out

with you…

i will fly

image: Brooke Shaden

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Happy Thanksgiving…

happy thanksgiving peanuts

Time to remember what we have been given, and what is to come…

and to be thankful for it all.

Peace…

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Am writing…

2015-09-30 16.41.22

I still #am writing but alas
have lagged behind in NaNoWriMo word counts…

But my story still surges on, which is
ultimately, the most important thing to me.

I am thankful for taking on the challenge.
It has inspired me to write, write, and write more
instead of waiting for another day
(you know, the “tomorrow zone”)

Today = Writing

image: The Wit Continuum

 

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Lispy bails out…

 

shaden photo

Here in the open cockpit
faceful of breeze
I sniff the winds of change.

Wooden wing struts and guy wires
lend a tentative support. You
look so brave out there, wind
whipped white frock and Florence
Nightingale cape.

Below, the dizzy patchwork map. I
can still hear your courageous last words,
a soft mixture of lisp and postnasal drip

as you step into the nearest available space,
a cloudbank of high hopes
one hand clutching your little nursebag
and the other the ripcord.

~ David Barker

image: Brooke Shaden

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Departure…


Through the tres outside small

pieces of darkness fall like grace-

notes…

~from Departure by George Hitchcock

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A Symbol of Peace…

paris peace sign Jean Jullien

“…when I put my brush on paper, this was the first thing that came.” ~ Jean Jullien

Meet the man behind the Eiffel Tower Peace Sign and how love, art and inspiration go hand in hand…

Peace…

Link: Slate Magazine

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Chimney Sweeping…

santa_down_chimney

The symptoms of Bertha Pappenheim and the explication of memories or “the talking cure” in psychology…

via: The Wit of the Staircase

chair

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Myomancy…

los_angeles_disneyland

Myomancy…divination by the movements of mice…

The Wit of the Staircase
(post December 28, 2006)

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the old echoes again…

gloomy day

Sad Walk

I’ve come to the old echoes again,
know it’s where I’ve been before,
see the same old sun.

But backwards, from all the yesterdays,
it’s still the same way,
who gets and who pays.

I was younger then,
walking along still open,
young and having fun.

But now it’s just a sad walk
to an empty park,
to sit down and wait, wait to get out.

~Robert Creeley~
from On Earth

image: gloomy day print by Kristie Bonnewell

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Intoxicate my soul…


Devon Windsor by Dean Isidro for Vogue Mexico


Rachel Weisz by Tom Craig, Harper’s Bazaar



I once had a garden filled with flowers that grew only on dark thoughts but they need constant attention & one day I decided I had better things to do. ~ Brian Andreas  (Image by Ralph Mecke)



You intoxicate my soul with your eyes. ~ Billie Holiday



Images – Marion Cotillard by Ryan McGinley

+ the intoxicating Kit Harington and a perfect kitten…

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Favorite colors…chartreuse…

grey and chartreause1 living-room-grey-chartreuse-and-yellow

chartreuse n grey2chartreusecouchmuch chartreusevintage coatkate spadechair

 

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Happy Halloween…

pumpkin house decorHappy Halloween everyone!

The Wit is away for the weekend, pumping up or NaNoWriMo, perusing the lines of esoteric pleasure and pain and beauty in words…and pumpkin patches…
See you all in November…

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Are you prepared?…

the-zombie-survival-guideIn case the inevitable Zombie Apocalypse happens soon, it’s time to read up. Max Brooks has the perfect guide…

3_days_survival_kitPick up the survival kit and have it handy. It doesn’t include weapons, so visit Walmart asap…

walking deadBinge watch The Walking Dead episodes starting with episode one, season one, so that you’ll know what to do when zombie hell breaks loose. If possible, when it happens, find one of these guys and never leave him!

Also in preparation, you must have your Zombie Apocalypse theme song. To discover it, go to your mp3 player, ipod or whatever, and hit shuffle on your song files list. Scroll to the third song and hit play… This is mine…

 

Good luck… ;)

 

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USA Haunts…St. Augustine Lighthouse

8-27-2010 013image

The St. Augustine Lighthouse is known to be haunted…and an amazing tourist attraction besides. My father, who just turned 79, boasted of climbing a few years ago the amazing spiral staircase (a Wit favorite!) within this cool historic tower.

spiral stairs and orbI asked my dad, who has a yen for the creepy stuff as well,  if he felt any ghostly specters about after that 100+ step climb… He said he had a strange feeling up there, a chill on his shoulder…but he didn’t see anything. A great shot was taken of a specter peeking over the upper banister, one of many photos of apparitions in this historic dwelling…ghost

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National Black Cat Day 2015

black cat 1National Black Cat Day 2015

black cat 2

morgan freeman n black catMorgan Freeman + black cat

black cat 3

black cat 4

norman reedus and catNorman Reedus + black cat

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Black cat…

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I’m focused, I’m ready…

nanowrimo-word-cloudPlanning through the past few weeks for Na No Wri Mo, National Novel Writing Month, this November. Feels great to finally have the time to focus. For me it’s now or never with stories I have. One in particular has been begging to be written, so I’m focused, I’m ready…

nanowrimo_desktop_calendar_by_pixiesailor-d31if90So if any of you fellow readers and writers have signed up and are all-in for the challenge this year let me know.

Join me as a buddy, pen name MichelleG-83, if you’d like.

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We have not…

We have not touched the stars

nor are we forgiven.

~Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain

 

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Enter this wild wood…


  

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No Swan Song…

no swanI have no swan song; words desert me now
That I have lost my youthful poet’s soul.
I have no will to sing one anyhow;
My heart’s as empty as a beggar’s bowl.
Such poor unhappy lines as I might pen
Cannot but show the dearth of feeling there,
As they fall flat and fizzle out again
And again, without their former flair.
And though they aptly show my poverty
Of spirit, passion, and creative fire,
This alone does not make poetry,
No more than ashes make a funeral pyre.

No Swan Song by Christopher Courtley,

From Thirteen Black Roses: Gothic Romantic Poetry

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The Poison Garden…

the poison garden 3Welcome to The Poison Garden! The Alnwick Garden was established in 2005 by the Duchess of Northumberland. This uniquely creepy garden contains over 100 deadly and hallucinogenic plants, enough to put this Wit over the gruesome edge…

mw_poison_garden_tunnel.jpg__1072x0_q85_upscaleVisitors must enter through this tunnel…

poison gardenTouch or not to touch?

I wondered why so many gardens around the world focused on the healing power of plants rather than their ability to kill…I felt that most children I know would be more interested in hearing how a plant killed, how long it would take you to die if you ate it and how gruesome and painful the death might be.”

~ The Duchess of Northumberland

(A woman after my creepy-side heart…)

the poison garden 2So pretty…

Image processed by CodeCarvings Piczard ### FREE Community Edition ### on 2012-04-05 15:04:46Z |  |
Image processed by CodeCarvings Piczard ### FREE Community Edition ### on 2012-04-05 15:04:46Z | |

So deadly…

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The dead…


Ethyl of Lawnswood Cemetery…


Until death do us part…


Southern Cemetery, Leipzig, Germany.

Visit The Dead Pinterest board

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All Hallows Read…


A cool way to start Wit’s 13 days of Halloween… Give a scary book to a fellow book lover on Halloween.

Suggestion: The Shining by Stephen King. Classically huge volume filled with perfect psychological breakdowns, a kid with psychic abilities, ghosts, and a writer who can’t write. Add isolation and a mega snowstorm and that’s what I’m talking about. (Movie is great too!!)

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Handling the Undead…

Every October I try to read something on the creepy side. This year my selection is perfect: a bit scary, gross at times, and heartbreaking as well. This is on the milder side compared to Lindqvist’s Let the Right One In, which had a lot more blood, gore and horrifyingly graffic content…So far…

Get your creep on with An excerpt from John Ajvide Lindqvist’s Handling the Undead…

Scene set up: David is visiting his dead wife after her horrific car accident which involved an elk…

“He stared down at the floor. He did not see the white caterpillar that came in through the ceiling, fell, and landed on the yellow institutional blanket draped over Eva, digging its way in.

“My darling,” he whispered and squeezed her hand. “Nothing was going to come between us, don’t you remember?”

Her hand jerked, squeezed back.

David did not scream, did not make a move. He simply stared at her hand, pressed it. Her hand pressed back. His chin fell, his tongue moved to like his lips. Joy was not the word for what he felt, it was more like the disorganization in the seconds after you wake from a nightmare, and at first his legs did not want to obey him when he pulled himself up so he could look at her.

They had cleaned and prepped her as best they could, but half of her face was a gaping wound. The elk, he supposed. It must have had time to turn its head, or make a final desperate attempt to attack the car. Its head, its antlers had been the first thing through the windshield and on of the points had struck her face before she was crushed under the weight of the beast.

“Eva! Can you hear me?”

No reaction. David pulled his hands across his face, his heart was beating wildly.

It was spasm…She can’t be alive. Look at her.

A large bandage covered the right half of her face, but is was clear that it was…too small. That bones, skin and flesh were missing underneath. They had said that she was in bad shape, but only now did he realize the extent of it.

“Eva? It’s me.”

This time there was no spasm. Her arm jerked, hitting against his legs. She sat up without warning. David instinctively backed up. The blanket slid off her, there was a quiet clinking and…no, he had not realized the full extent of it at all.

Her upper body was naked, the clothes had been cut away. The right side of her chest was a gaping hole bordered by ragged skin and clotted blood. From it came the metallic clanking. For a moment, David could not see Eva, he only saw a monster and wanted to run away. But his legs would not carry him and after several seconds he came to his senses. He stepped up to the bed again.

Now he saw what was making the sound. Clamps. A number of metal clamps suspended from broken veins inside her chest cavity. They swayed and hit against each other as she moved. He swallowed dryly. “Eva?”

She turned her head toward the sound of his voice and opened her one eye.

Then he screamed.”

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The dark side…Valentino…


  

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Sweet October…


Sweet October…full of beautiful endings…

…and delightful beginnings…

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I would give even my soul for it…

Naoto HattoriIf only it was the picture who was to grow old, and I remain young. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t give for that. Yes, I would give even my soul for it.

~The Picture of Dorian Gray~
(1945)

Image:

Naoto Hattori

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To be unafraid again…

zena hollowayI want to dig out what is ancient in me, the mistaken-for-monster, its ophidian prowl, its raven-cursed rudiment – Let it teach me how to be unafraid again.

~ Scherezade Siobhan

Image: fashionography by Zeno Holloway

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My Favorite month of the year…


Time to embrace your darker side… Due to September’s timely demise I have now awoken and feel inspired during this October, my favorite month of the year. Join me for pre-Samhain bits on the creepier wit and beauty side, full of Art, poetry, words and images to make the tummy twinge and the nickers moist, in more ways than one, along with the eternal desires October brings every year. May this be a magical, mysterious month for all the Wit children….

Art = Guardian by Pat Kochakji

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A high moment listening…

Yma+Sumac+PNGA high moment listening to Ima Sumac. The voice has all the richness, beauty, and range of a mythical woman. It does not seem humanly credible. She sings like a siren, a bird, an angel, some seductive chant never heard before, high and low, fragile and strong. With all that, she has the exotic beauty of a legendary figure. I could imagine her in Peru, but not accept that she is married to a composer and now sings his Hollywood-type arrangements in a night club.

~  Anais Nin, Fall 1952, The Diary of Anais Nin Volume 5

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The end of the smiles…

jon-and-ygritteFor when the hero stormed on through the bowers of love,

each heartbeat meant for him lifted him past itself;

already turned away, he stood at the end of the smiles,

–different.

-Rilke, The Sixth Elegy
Image: Jon Snow and Ygitte, Game of Thrones

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The essence of…


What I love about Gustav Klimt’s Art is this essence of…something sad, or forgotten, what is not there at all…even in a kiss there is a hold, a longing, a seeking to keep what longs to be gone… and golden tears…

Update: Image features The Kiss by Gustav Klimt, one of my favorite paintings, and Freya’s Tears by Anne Marie Zilberman, who is clearly inspiring!

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Amazing Kate…


Because Kate is always amazing…

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Well…

seeing how the app for WordPress is working…

Unfortunately this is the third try uploading a picture from my iPad …

And it shut off again… Anyone with advice on why this fucking thing isn’t working will be appreciated. I reloaded app which has helped. At least WordPress opens and I can view notifications etc.

help!

Ps: need the stick it to the front page option on app!

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Style is the answer to everything…

bukowskiStyle is the answer to everything.
A fresh way to approach a dull or dangerous thing.
To do a dull thing with style is preferable to doing a dangerous thing without style.
To do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art.

Bullfighting can be an art.
Boxing can be an art.
Loving can be an art.
Opening a can of sardines can be an art.

Not many have style.
Not many can keep style.
I have seen dogs with more style than men,
although not many dogs have style.
Cats have it with abundance.

When Hemingway put his brain to the wall with a shotgun, that was style.
Or sometimes people give you style.
Joan of Arc had style.
John the Baptist.
Jesus.
Socrates.
Caesar.
Garcia Lorca.

I have met men in jail with style.
I have met more men in jail with style than men out of jail.
Style is the difference, a way of dong, a way of being done.
Six herons standing quietly in the pool of water,
or you, naked, walking out of the bathroom without seeing me.

~Charles Bukowski, Tale of Ordinary Madness

bukowski-2003-05-g