October 2010
41 posts
September 2010
46 posts
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I should be working..
Who are you precious one?
So small, almost nothing.
You fade into the background,
Nestle there in the texture of things.
A ghost nipping at the tails of the universe.
Why else would I have noticed
Noticed that really,
Really, you are infinite.
Flowers pushing forth from walls,
Mice trampling giants.
You’re that feeling of riding down the highway alone,
Of listening to songs high
Of standing above...
“I like candy, I like whores. I like being out of doors.”
1 tag
What's the deal with fish?
They’re fuckin’ monsters. Mad scary. Have you not ever looked into their eyes? Black and dead, like their souls. When fish rule the world I’ll be laughing at all you chumps who think they’re ‘no big deal or anything’. Bitches.
Ask me anything
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Dissipate; There's Nothing Better.
I like my notes to be pristine. We’re talking nut-bustlingly beautiful. That being said, I spend a few hours every night transcribing and re-transcribing the illegible shit I write in lectures.
As it turns out I had neglected a few pages and was just settling in, about to start transcribing, when I had to stop. For some unknown reason I wrote:
“ Yes,...
Various things J. Alfred Prufrock made me think:
You and I are meaningless; a one night stand, groggy in this disconnected routine. Another of many, all the same, all a blur. Somewhere between these twisted sheets and limp bodies dances the self I am no longer. Running through nameless streets I always find myself back to this state. Where is my escape?
The aged and dirty evidence of time licks its feathered tongue in the corners of the...
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1 tag
Unaccomplished.
Delish was tired. These past fifty years had been long and he was tired of fighting. Each day seemed to make everything harder, more painful. There were no more surprises, no more fear. The air hung heavy, dashed only with traces of the magic that once seemed endless, inevitable. Something so impossibly obvious and natural that being without it felt like drowning. There he...
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1 tag
Dear pretty grrl,
I miss your fucking smile! That blood red lipstick, the mascara devouring your big blue eyes. I could stare at you endlessly; I do stare at you endlessly. Time is lost in that twisting body, winding curves, giving way to porcelain legs. And your face? Well, your face makes me want to sacrifice unicorns. To throw glitter in the air, to dance awkwardly, to shout sweet nothings...
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What could it mean, for the song of the humpback whale to be wrong? Isn’t the song of the humpback whale whatever the humpback whale wish it to be? Human language is much the same and by listening or observing it that permissibility becomes clear.
I love you, Linguistics.
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Muffins.
Have you ever eaten a muffin that tasted as though it were another flavour, when it very clearly was the kind you had purchased? Well, today I had that exact kind of jarring experience. My chocolate chip muffin was obviously preordained to be blueberry but somewhere in the chaos of this world it slipped through the cracks. I was fairly pleased about the whole situation, though. After all, I did...
“In human culture as in biology, a clone is a dead end. However, a clade holds...”
Depression, my love.
I taste the pale grey of morning’s muted call; that howl of windless air filling my mouth, rushing past my ears. I am reminded that as all days today will bear no possibilities. A foggy ménage of propriety dances through this restless mind. These days sleep comes and goes easily, slipping further away with each dreary breath. One day it’ll evade me completely; one day I’ll be...
Words.
Isn’t it strange how at the most unexpected of times all of the words fall into place? They drop and they tumble. They twist and they mould. You feel it happening—the swell, the throb. Your fingers burn with beauty. You scorch the page with passion. This is the magic that sweeps through your heart. It pulses in your core. This is the true power of the words. With them you feel omnipresent,...
I can’t sleep.
Perhaps what he smiled at was not the pleasure he took from such activities, but from his knowledge that what he was doing, to some extent, bothered me. The meat he pushed on to the counter, the fresh poop in the litter box I was still trying to clean, and his offensive grooming when company was over. I had never thought of it that way before tonight. His lowered brow and...
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Lone Cow.
Sometimes I can still remember how it use to feel when we were together. A memory, or smell, or sound , or stoic picture, will lurch past my mind. Sudden and fleeting, I am left with only a faded taste of our childish excitement. Never enough but always too much, I sit at my desk starved and desperate for another hint of what life use to mean. Once, just being with you in that house was enough...
