March 2012
73 posts
February 2012
55 posts
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“We clean up, and now it’s time to learn.”
– The White Stripes, We’re Going to be Friends
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“Burned all my notebooks, what good are notebooks?
They won’t help me...”
– Talking Heads, Life During Wartime
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Corporate
I like talking shop in the cloned conference rooms with over filtered air. I miss people carrying clunky laptops chasing elevators in groups of two or three. I would go on coffee breaks and look out the glass wall while organizing my notes.
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visions of a Papergirl.: there used to be a time,... →
pillowedshock:
there used to be a time, not too long ago, but long enough for me to feel the age and antiqued wear and tear creep between me and the memory, when i’d sit half naked in my room, clothed mostly in paint stains and torn up paper shreds. my barefeet danced on the newspaper carpeted floor and my…
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“I am afraid of getting older … I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from...”
– Sylvia Plath, written in 1949 at age 17 (via aepocrypha)
And sometimes I disconnect violently. I am a June tulip withered in the sun.
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Dreams
Normally I can only see what I see. But at night there is abstraction. A dilation. I pull out multicolored threads. Can we do anything with these? Tie them together with too large fingers. Fumbling, fumbling. Syrup so sweet it burns. Dark red in plastic thimbles. The drops stuck to the ceiling like some demonic poltergeist. I can’t reach them, nor do I want to. Lingering sticky...
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I am always writing when it’s really late. There is a soothing hum and defenses have fallen. Maybe I am just avoiding sleep. Or, maybe it is just one last instant of production.
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CIVIL WARS CIVIL WARS CIVIL WARS
fishy:
THEY’RE SO GOOOOOOD
My thoughts currently.
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The glass on the counter was swearing. A train goes through the tunnel at one every morning. I just heard the whistle blow. I usually miss these shadows.
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Emotional Intensity
I want to be stuffed with bubbles and watch everything drip saturation. Engulfed by the cool breeze of adrenaline, my lungs stiffen. A little bit out of control.
I don’t think we have a word for that, but we’ve all experienced it regardless.
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Nothing
Let them run when it’s late at night and things are soft and grey. My head is a barometer and my hip is an anchor and I float somewhere in between. Cars swish by and the streetlight turns red.
Afar
She smelled like Dove soap. She often wore Converse but sometimes wore her heavy work boots. Especially in the snow. She only wrote in blue pen. And she was always writing. Lists, notes, drawings were all scribbled down on scraps of whatever paper she could find. I didn’t know her name, but when she laughed my insides were scooped out and I held my breath to keep from losing that too.
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“The White Stripes do not belong to Meg and Jack anymore. The White Stripes...”
– Meg and Jack White, The White Stripes Break Up Letter 2/2/11
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11:32
Ah the regulars are on. Hello my friends.
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Anonymous asked: Who are you?
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I wish being naked was more socially acceptable.
TMI Tuesday, ask anything! →
The Celestial Child: A friend of mine is missing. →
baliset:
terrafirmaspower:
Amelia Louden-Doud
She’s been missing since 3:30 today and she doesn’t have her cellphone. She was last seen at Falls Rd and Joppa Rd in Lutherville, MD. She was wearing a white jacket with a short, black, leather skirt, a white tank top, and a…
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Weird little word play things
make up an embarrassing amount of my thoughts… (see Work Hardening)
As does weird little number play things.
I am a space cadet.
:P
Ask me things! Tell me things! :) →
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Work hardening
Work hardening: When a metal experiences stress and strain that is beyond the limits of what it can take without being permanently altered and the metal becomes stronger.
Now, read it again. But replace “metal” with “person”.
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“If you’re an artist and you created something and you knew the master was...”
– Neil Young, about the loss of data when audio is converted to mp3
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“Well, why not? It ain’t worth nothing anyway.”
– Bob Dylan on people illegally downloading music
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This creative thing
It is mentally exhausting. I am pushing against a brick behind my eyes. A million, trillion words and none of them are right. They scroll through like a stock market ticker.
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“Living in a new age, kicking up the dust. Oh, we’re burning up the sky.”
– The Parson Red Heads, Burning Up the Sky