#mebackthen - and my big sister
Le Monstre, one of the censored poems in Charles Baudelaire’s
Fleurs du mal / Flowers of Evil
Your eyes resemble mud and mire,
Whereon a flaring lantern streaks,
Reflects the fard upon your checks,
And glows with pale infernal fire.
Your eyes are coloured like the mire.
By its voluptuous disdain
Your bitter lip provokes our lust.
It’s Eden’s apple once again,
Half is attraction, half disgust,
In its voluptuous disdain.
Your leg, so muscular and dry,
Could climb volcanoes, never stop,
And, spite of snow, and wind, and rain,
Perform a cancan at the top.
Your leg is muscular and dry.
Your burning skin is void of sweetness:
Like an old soldier’s it appears.
To sweat it never had the weakness
More than your eyes could furnish tears.
And yet it has a kind of sweetness!
It would be a good thing to buy books if one could also buy the time to read them; but one usually confuses the purchase of books with the acquisition of their contents.
—Arthur Schopenhauer (via literatureismyutopia)
Haus des Meeres
I live in a good hood :)
Ottakringer Straße, 114 - 116, home of the WWF’s Danube-Carpathian Programme
The First And True Language Of America (via notalwaysright.com)
- GROCERY STORE | SANTA FE, NM, USA |
- (I’m waiting in line behind a woman speaking on her cellphone in another language. Ahead of her is a white man. After the woman hangs up, he speaks up.)
- Man: “I didn’t want to say anything while you were on the phone, but you’re in America now. You need to speak English.”
- Woman: “Excuse me?”
- Man: *very slow* “If you want to speak Mexican, go back to Mexico. In America, we speak English.”
- Woman: “Sir, I was speaking Navajo. If you want to speak English, go back to England.”