23.09.23

23.09.23

“and the monosyllable of the clock is Loss, loss, loss, unless you devote your heart to its opposition” —Tennessee Williams

Yesterday was my first moot practice, and the pressure is on! My weekend plans are nothing but readings. I’m overwhelmed, but I’m doing what I can and loving what I do. Am I doing too much? If I’m ambitious, it’s a grievous fault. Let’s find out how I answer it.

“I must get control of my life, the little I have left.”

— Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Aurelia Plath written c. September 1962

Believing in yourself is a necessary delusion

Funeral Blues

by W.H. Auden

Stop all the clocks; cut off the telephone. Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone; Silence the pianos, and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin; let the mourners come.

Let the aeroplanes circle, moaning, overhead, Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead; Put crepe bows ‘round the white necks of the public doves; Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I though that love would last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun. Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood, For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Keeping this quote to my grave

you put the peeps in the chili pot and add the m&ms you put the