The Nixon Years

Find what you love & let it kill you.


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"I was fascinated by strangers, wanted to know what food they ate and what dishes they ate it from, what movies they watched and what music they listened to, wanted to look under their beds and in their secret drawers and night tables and inside the pockets of their coats."
— (via theminimalistwoman)
"You can’t be happy unless you’re unhappy sometimes."
Lauren Oliver, Delirium (via quotestuff)
Yoga in my backyard under the stars. I am happy.
"I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights."
Maya Angelou 

I read her eyes like
paragraphs and her tears
like chapters
for she didn’t have much
to say with words, but rather,

And never let them tell you
that silence, isn’t beautiful.
For silence is what happens
when words fall asleep
and you must carry the belief
that one day they will
wake up inside of you.

Christopher Poindexter
Currently Reading
"Who Was Changed & Who Was Dead" by Barbara Comyns
a novel.
"How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into."
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
(Enormous Tiny Art)

how many male novelists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

  • A: The terrible sex had made him feel deeply interesting, like a murder victim.
  • ---
  • A: The beast, which had represented his feelings, was dead. “I think I’ll do a pushup,” he announced to the sea. The sea respected him for it.
  • ---
  • A: [4000 words from the narrator about his feelings on his childhood circumcision]
  • ---
  • A: War is hell.
  • ---
  • A: He straightened his tie. He had lost, but in a romantic way, which meant that he had won. “I’m going to do a pushup,” he announced to his tie. His tie respected him for it, and secretly wished that it could have sex with him.
  • ---
  • A: You wouldn’t understand.
  • ---
  • A: He swore curses at his coworkers. He was making a lot of money. Fuck.
  • ---
  • A: This neighborhood in New York City was very different from the other neighborhood in New York City he’d just been in.
  • ---
  • A: He lit a cigarette. His glass of whiskey lit a cigarette too. “I can only truly love my best friend,” he said, “but not in a gay way. Women wouldn’t understand it. They’re too gay.” Both of the cigarettes agreed.
  • ---
  • A: [4000 words about an isolated encounter with a service worker that borders on racist and goes nowhere]
  • ---
  • A: “The cocaine isn’t the point. The cocaine is a metaphor,” he explained wearily over the pile of cocaine. She folded her arms. She didn’t understand his cocaine. “Didn’t you read my manifesto?” The prostitute had read his manifesto. Why couldn’t she?
  • ---
  • A: This lightbulb is inauthentic.
  • ---
  • A: ”It’s only the institution I have a problem with,” he explained to the empty bar.
  • ---
  • A: The time had come for him to go to war, and also find himself, and also reject the rules of your society.
  • ---
  • A: His alcoholism was different, because someday he was going to die.
  • ---
  • A: [Nothing happens for 450 pages; receives fourteen awards]
Namaste (nah-mas-tay)

My soul honors your soul. I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides.

I honor the light, love, truth, beauty & peace within you, because it is also within me.

In sharing these things we are united, we are the same, we are one.