#wow this hits home
Sometimes I have dreams where I wait in a room until a figure brings me one of my (long dead) pets, and they sit with me for a while.
I once had a dream of my sister (who died 2007) and I asked her how being dead was like and she just shrugged her shoulders “Hm.” like she was kinda bored.
“Boy, why are you crying?”
“I don’t know. A tear for every happy thought.”
(July 21, 1951 - August 11, 2014, Robin Williams)
#god please no
We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?
Rest in peace.
"May you pick up your tea when it’s exactly the right temperature, and may you happen to glance out the window when the light is just how you like it."
This is my favorite of the prize drawings. I tried a different, heavier inking style than I usually use, and I’m pretty happy with how it came out. Make note of the wind-blown look; it was apparently pretty windy in all these drawings.