my name is dena. this is a collection of things that i find beautiful or important. for more about me, visit my website: livelovesimple.com.

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss–we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless:
I am living. I remember you.

"What the Living Do" by Marie Howe (via alonesomes)

One of my favorite poems of all time. Marie Howe is a genius.

(via juggernaute)

(via juggernaute)



Not everything can be fixed. Some things just need to be watched. Not everything has a solution. Some things just are.

Just because something is annoying doesn’t mean it’s a problem. There are worse things. You are lucky.

Harvesting a deer, it’s a bloody business. What’s ugly about watching a deer die isn’t whats ugly about hunting. What’s ugly about watching a deer die is what’s ugly about our need to survive. I think that a lot of people have fallen into a sort of moral trap where they rely on proxy executioners to do their killing for them. The same way when you put your garbage out on the curb and your’e not sure where it goes that’s like when your meat comes and you can rest on this sanctamonious feeling that it was clean and humane. I think what startles people about hunting is that we go out and have a very visceral experience in discovering where our meat comes from. It’s not just something that appears wrapped in celafain at your grocery store.

—Steven Rinella (via hebrideansky)

(Source: naturalhunter, via underwatergunfight)