The friends you carry.
by The Lingernots
The other night, curled up in my pink sea shell sofa, I had a tarot reading that felt like a gift handed over from some source that could look at me objectively, almost like a doctor, and intuitively place a finger on the issues that need looking over, that need mending.. It’s not like it was some huge psychic revelation, in fact it felt like having a conversation with a friend who reinforces your suspicions with wholehearted agreement.
I felt relieved, emotional and happy. I felt like I had taken a long walk and the path had just made itself less steep. I want to say that reading has been “fixing me”. but I don’t just mean the cards, but also the return of literature in my life.
I always made friends with the pages of my books, seeking advice, comfort and direction from the characters manifested from carefully chosen words… Finding allies in the teary, glitter kisses of Weetzie, the wine stained fingers to kiss in Henry Miller’s honest, and sweetly salacious man wisdom, finding the sparkle in the gaze of love to friends emanating from Nin’s diaries… All the stories are treasured friends, mentors, who remind me the importance of surrounding oneself with equally inspiring, loving people. So that one day I’ll read my own words, lick my own wine stained fingers, and recall the love I have for my own family of friends.
“To say nothing of what you lose, lose, lose, are loosing, man. You fool, you stupid fool … You’ve even been insulated from the responsibility of genuine suffering … Even the suffering you do endure is largely unnecessary. Actually spurious. It lacks the very basis you require of it for its tragic nature. You deceive yourself. – Malcom Lowry
“I felt less alone when I didn’t know you yet: I was waiting for the other. I thought only of his strength and never of my weakness. And now here you are, Orestes, it was you. I look at you and I see that we are two orphans.” -Sartre
“You are my Marilyn. You are my lake full of fishes. You are my sky set, my ‘Hollywood in Miniature,’ my pink Cadillac, my highway, my martini, the stage for my heart to rock and roll on, the screen where my movies light up.” -Francesca Lia Block
There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic.-Anais Nin
Confusion is a word we have invented for an order which is not understood.
“Three of the four elements are shared by all creatures, but fire was a gift to humans alone. Smoking cigarettes is as intimate as we can become with fire without immediate excruciation. Every smoker is an embodiment of Prometheus, stealing fire from the gods and bringing it on back home. We smoke to capture the power of the sun, to pacify Hell, to identify with the primordial spark, to feed on them arrow of the volcano. It’s not the tobacco we’re after but the fire. When we smoke, we are performing a version of the fire dance, a ritual as ancient as lightning.” -Tom Robbins