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Lisa

offline 92 friends
joined on 03/05/06
last updated 09/02/09
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My Friends

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Stroke my ego.

November 12, 2006
Long
live
lovely
literary
Lisa!
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Lisa, off and on the road

Gender
Female
Age
32
Location
about me
Testimonial


I was born fully clothed in chartreuse satin which covered my feathers and scales.

I drank the song of the sea through my mother’s oyster milk, and licked the snow-capped teeth of mountains.

I was raised in a time when wolves recited Homeric epics to the full buttered moon.

I played second trombone for the Hell’s Angels Philharmonic, and conducted lightning for the Archangels Symphony Orchestra.

I foretold the coming of Sahara monsoons.

I fried handfuls of crushed stars in a pan of midnight oil.

I sucked fig juice from the fingertips of Babylonian whores.

I held my breath for forty days and forty nights, and swam all the way to Atlantis.



by Lisa R. (2001)
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Kerouac

"The understanding had been that Marylou would switch to me in Frisco, but I now began to see they were going to stick and I was going to be left alone... But why think about that when all the golden land's ahead of you and all kinds of unforeseen events wait lurking to surprise you and make you glad you're alive to see?"

from "On the Road"

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The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

...Robert Frost

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somewhere i have never travelled

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On The Road Less Travelled

There are a lot of tired, unhappy people in a five o'clock rush hour. Today, I was one of them. The cold's a force to be reckoned with, a solid mass of air it seems that needs to be pushed back, fought, wrestled, rebuked at every turn. The Queen streetcar was a sardine can and as I made my way down the stairs into the subway, stepping with care so as not to fall, I felt a fatigue so huge it washed tsunami-style over my head. It was a fatigue from the day, from teaching four classes, sleeping ... read more
Wed, January 31, 2007 - 7:40 PM permalink - 1 comment
 
I'm teetering on the verge of a major decision...ready to take the plunge into the unknown and go to my first Burning Man Festival! It's a big scary decision to make. Saving up that kind of money isn't easy for me, and the challenge of the elements, basic comfort and survival all terrify me in way, since I am a girl who loves her creature comforts (I'm a Taurus, after all).

So, who else is going? How do you plan on getting there? Who are you camping with? Any advice for a first-timer?

... read more
Sun, January 21, 2007 - 10:09 AM permalink - 7 comments
 
Stripping for Rilke


When her soul oozed out of her skin, bleeding
like a ghost of ink, my mouth stretched

wide to catch its taste, its melt, that February
day in Montreal, in the bookstore on Milton, she stripped

away layers of ice-damp wool, casting off
the heavy skins of winter, and a pale

bare arm emerged, scattering freckles
like grains of wild rice

and reaching past my amber face for Rilke’s
Duino Elegies she raised her gentle voice and read:

"Every angel is terr... read more
Wed, January 3, 2007 - 1:10 PM permalink - 0 comments
 
You must, must must MUST check out my dear friend James' blog. It is, in his word, "snortalicious":

www.jamesrb.blogspot.com/
Tue, January 2, 2007 - 9:22 PM permalink - 0 comments
 
I received this book as one of my Christmas presents from my mother, and it took me all of two days to read it, all 192 pages of it. Natalie Goldberg, author of "Writing Down the Bones" and "Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life," among others, once again shows herself at the top of her game in this poignant and heart-wrenching look at the lives and deaths of two great men: her father, the gambling, penny-pinching, life-loving Ben "Buddy" Goldberg from Brooklyn, and Dainin Roshi Katagiri, the J... read more
Wed, December 27, 2006 - 4:26 PM permalink - 0 comments
 
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If Walt Whitman can do it, so can I...

I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my Soul;
I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass. 5

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes;
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it;
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless;
It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it; 10
I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked;
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

2

The smoke of my own breath;
Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine;
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs; 15
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore, and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn;
The sound of the belch’d words of my voice, words loos’d to the eddies of the wind;
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms;
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag;
The delight alone, or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides; 20
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.

 
members » Lisa link to this profile: http://people.tribe.net/lisaontheroad