Amanda

I'd like to meet:

People who find meaning in everything (and live in the Davis area).

4 | | | My AIM - OoSundayGirlo0 | | | 3

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Music:

Kublah Khan
By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

In Xanadue did Kublah Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills
Where blossomed many an incence-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A sagave place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick plants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these danging rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the cavers measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves:
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
that sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Movies:

in no particular order:, The Brothers Quay Collection , Closer , , The Doors , Eternal Sunshine of the Spottless Mind , Taxi Driver , The 12 Monkeys , , , Memento , Anchorman , Gia , Being John Malkovich , Kill Bill , Pink Floyd: The Wall , Un Chien Andalou , Fight Club , The Machinist , Lost and Delirious , Girl Interrupted , Ichi the Killer , Audition

Television:

I hardly watch television, because I prefer to be a computer nerd. But I do watch Family Guy sometimes :-).

Books:

The Great Gatsby1984The Second Sex
My Favorite Poems

The Other Woman
by Debra Bruce

Forsythia thrusts
against the screens and you're
back again. I haven't lost you
at all, you say, and prove it
with kisses with her taste
still on them as I slip
my tongue into your mouth
for the rapprochement.
Can't we be reasonable
about this, you want to know.
a gunshot of petals scatters
from the dogwood. Of course,
I want to know her. You suggest
she and I have coffee. Imagine
steam curling around the lips
of your two women. We could sip
your name together, politely, and please you
that way.
But I want all
three of us to lie
in a room that sweats
spring rain. I want you
to trace her waist
with my fingers. Her hips,
you've told me, jut more sharply
than mine. Now show me.
You said the slopes to her
belly are steep, so let me go,
let me slide, slide
down them.

Two Orgasms
by Nancy Sullivan

I More like the candle going out
with the smoke still stroking the air,
more like that than the sudden blackness
after the lightning.
II At Lascaux they've shut the caves
because the dampness is ruining
the running beasts on the slippery walls.
Only the experts enter to grope
through the moist, spectacular
canal. Once there, someone raises
a torch. The walls blaze
and for a moment
the world's just been discovered.

Country Love
by Nhan Trinh

Sometimes, fear is more real than love
so what you want may be like this:
You hold a book-pressed petal
and look at her in a velvet red dress
in a sampan that will take her across
the river where she'll think of you
ever time the cicadas
sing before a tiny rain
But you'll probably marry
a woman who is kind
to your mother and to you
and you will be kind to her. Because
there's only one kind of love
here. It's the way habits make
themselves habits, trimming this,
stretching that, cover the other
so they themselves are only what's left.
Yet the way you sit there, head
slanted so with chin cupped
in a hand, asking him the things
he likes, habits don't always
make things easy. Sometimes
you wake at night missing without
knowing what it is you're missing.
But when you can't love
the way you want, habits can
make it easy to sleep, the way
you've learned to ignore the frogs.
and crickets to sleep at night.

what the mirror said
by Lucille Clifton

listen,
you a wonder.
you a city
of a woman.
you got a geography
of your own.
listen,
woman,
you not a noplace
annonymous
girl;
mister with his hands on you
he got his hands on
some
damn
body!