bijaworks

[bijaworks]

[bijaworks]

[bijaworks]

#books #civilwarbooks #design #chinesepoetry #nonfiction #warandviolence fifteen per ... Order in bulk to save. DM with specific title requests... We find good homes for books.

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Essential DC comics Showcase Presents various first printings

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Yes I'm home practicing odd pairings... Clausewitz's On War + cannabis leaf #flattenit #bookstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/CAtnFXtlh4e/?igshid=9x8688c2b32f

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Philos relig science random lot. Putting $20 per stack of these next few. Free pickup in logan sq, ship anywhere. #booklots #hibernating #spring https://www.instagram.com/p/B_arQB0FPnK/?igshid=n3b7rsvdognt

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"Positive emotions make us more vulnerable than negative ones. One reason is that they’re future-oriented. Fear and sadness have immediate payoffs—protecting us from attack or attracting resources at times of distress. Gratitude and joy, over time, will yield better health and deeper connections—but in the short term actually put us at risk. That’s because, while negative emotions tend to be insulating, positive emotions expose us to the common elements of rejection and heartbreak."

The Atlantic :: Magazine :: What Makes Us Happy?

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"Do not be too timid or squeamish about your actions, all life is an experiment." Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Diogenes was knee deep in a stream washing vegetables. Coming up to him, Plato said, "My good Diogenes, if you knew how to pay court to kings, you wouldn't have to wash vegetables." "And," replied Diogenes, "If you knew how to wash vegetables, you wouldn't have to pay court to kings."

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Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment. - Rumi

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"As you take in your Sunday evening dose of HBO after an arduous but cathartic trip to Home Depot, while your better half RSVPs to a friend’s 5-year-old’s birthday party, you might want to stop and ask yourself have you already traded away the benefits of being single without reaping the rewards of marriage?"

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a 20-minute short featuring Werner Herzog's poignant narration...

"They told me its out there, the Pacific Vortex, Paradise. You may be thinking, 'Hey shut up and enjoy the sunset you idiot,' well i don't care what you think, no one needs me anymore--not even my maker. Do you know her, by chance? Have you seen her?"

and just gets better from there.

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OPP: other people's poetry

It is weird that people now refer to the drug itself rather than the delivery device. "I haven't had my caffeine today," or "I'm on a nicotine buzz," or "I need methamphetamine, stat." This reminds me of that birth control commercial that used the word "orthotricycline" so many times I thought I was at a Scientology center.

An old friend just called and started reading old poems of ours from high school. I cringed to hear them again, but they were better than expected. This invoked a strange double nostalgia. Back in the day we used to call and read our poems to each other, so not only was I hearing them again for the first time in years, but also tripping on the memory of him calling me to read it aloud.

I miss the days when calling and reading to each other was of the utmost importance. I know, discussing 401Ks has its place, but it's not quite the same.

I have a benevolent understanding and appreciation for my old poetry that is novel; over the past dozen years I have disdained it, and for that matter everything having to do with my behavior in high school. When in life things become far enough away to see clearly, it seems proper to bask in the beauty of that moment.

So I think I'll post a few old poems in the coming days. Indulge me, if you will...

[bijaworks]

Clarence 'Tom' Ashley - The Coo Coo Bird (via jwbos1388)

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Fascinating.

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This is a guest post I did about my befuddled search for health insurance. Don't tell me it's not interesting. I know health insurance is "not interesting." Kafka's bureaucracies are also, in a quantitative way, not interesting. And no I'm not comparing myself to Kafka.

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Pre-Needy

       “Sorry I’m so needy.”        “I’m needy too.”                “You’re pre-needy.”        “Oh no, you mean it gets worse?”        “No that’s not what I mean.” But I couldn’t explain. I knew what it was like, the heaviest pressure on your heart--on your skin like tendrils drying in hot wind, too sensitive to touch. But I couldn’t explain how the anticipation, the steeling of resolve for impact, felt worse than letting the feeling wash over you, stimulating and tingly, enveloping you like an Epsom and lanolin bath.          When I give in I get this beatific slack-jawed, open handed gesture. I look skyward and everything relaxes. I no longer needed to take control. I no longer needed to remember what stance I’d taken in the conversation because there was no effect I was trying to create, no lie to give evidence to.         It lasts a little while.