T. S. Eliot, from The Waste Land
T. S. Eliot, from Four Quartets (via proustitute)
“Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
for decisions and revisions which a minute can reverse.”
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot.
The guy that I imagined being with for the rest of my life broke up with me a month ago. I was damaged, to say the least. But I began looking at it from a new perspective: I’m better off without the bullshit. I let myself become someone else when I was with him, I let myself give up my dreams for his. And you should never have to do that. So I found a sort of therapy in J. Alfred Prufrock.
The poem, in a nutshell, describes a man that wants the world but it too contained to go out and get it. I will never be a Prufrock. I will not measure my life in coffee spoons, and I will not live my life thinking, “there will be time for that later”. I will start making my dreams come true now, today. I will get out into the world and show what I am made of. I will disturb the universe.
Done in my own handwriting. Tattooed by Peek at Electric Chair Tattoo in Flint, Michigan.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
lolamarthgar-deactivated2011012 asked: T.S. Eliot is incredible. I love his work so much. Thanks for making this tumblr!
My pleasure! I’ve been doing a terrible job of keeping it up, but I promise to work a little bit harder.
pwdin-wy-deactivated20120410 asked: 6th Form in Britain so I was about 17 actually...some of it still went over my head!
Ah! That makes more sense. Sorry, American over here running this thing. I occasionally like to believe that the English language is taught for the express purpose of reading Eliot.
pwdin-wy-deactivated20120410 asked: Hey, this isn't a question but...thanks for this site! TS Eliot is pretty much up there my favourite poet. Ever since one day in school when nearly everyone was in rehearsal and my 6th form English teacher sat the small group of us left down to read The Wasteland. Thankyou again!
Goodness gracious, I can hardly imagine trying to mentally ingest The Waste Land in the 6th grade. I’m glad you got to encounter him at an early age and I hope your love continues to grow for him.
Believe it or not, my mom would read “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” to me when I was a child. It would be a sort of lullaby. Too long to finish in one night, I would always be given bits and pieces of the poem. Perhaps a vision of the mermaids floating in the water, or a fragmented memory of a patient on an operating table, maybe someone eating a peach. Each bit of Prufrock, each and every sentence was a brand new story, something new to be analyzed, a miracle metaphor, a children’s song, a swan song, and a whispered secret.
Prufrock is so fantastically layered, a poem has never felt more alive and evolving then it. Truly, as I grow, it grows.
“For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?”
-T. S. Elliot