They told me to cut the meat into lean pieces, and to abhor the rich excess of fat and oil, that I may suck only at the juices that have truly embedded themselves into every slice, and therefore that I may better savor happiness in every bite:
In my bedroom I tear my books to their barest pages so that I can read only the most heartfelt lines. In the kitchen with knife and scissors, I trim my dresses into ribbons. In the bathroom I cut my hair to shreds. In the pause before bed I deconstruct a picture of us
(I keep your hand because it is the one part of you my sensibility misses; the rest I throw away).
At night I lengthen my hours awake to guard against too much sleep. In the car I listen to a modicum of combination salads–a snippet of Bach, a melody from a commercial, a bridge from a pop star. In the dining room I think of the meals we shared together and cut my serving into half. In my heart I tell myself that I must put down this pen: this string of extravagance, as of this minute, seems too much, seems overdone, seems to be enough.
—
1.) “By ‘void’ I mean that which has no beginning and no end. It expressly deals with that which cannot be seen. By knowing things that exist you can know that which does not exist.”
2.) “In order to achieve enlightenment without trying, you have to forget everything you know, and just be.”
3.) “It’s the perfect distillation of any art: reducing everything to its essence; its most perfect form.”
– Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings (explained and quoted in the second) via Mark Dacascos, in the documentary entitled, “Samurai.”
—
And to end: a song.
Writing Like a Hell Kitten 