| thou shalt: i will |
[10 May 2009|11:10am] |
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the waning moon is most beneficial for matters at a stage of consolidation, conservation and completion.
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[23 Dec 2008|03:16pm] |
it's almost christmas, the time i always feel like i must be falling in love. it has something to do with the knot in my stomach, seasonally conditioned excitement.
i am riding the bus from marin to san francisco with my friend colette's dead mother. she asked if she could sit next to me. she is beautiful, an angel with small dry hands. she lost a silver-gold hair and i pulled it out of the tassel of my scarf and looked at it without realizing it was hers.
she gets off on van ness, drops a glove, turns to pick it up, says something to the driver, steps down.
the kid behind me is talking to someone on the phone. on the bridge, he looses service. he doesn't know the person he is talking to well. he says mary, can you hear me? and she can't. he calls back, and explains that he has just gotten into the city, and that he'll be taking the muni to the hospital. he repeats, i'll be taking the muni to ucsf. he doesn't know if the muni is a bus or not, and i want to tell him which line to take, but i don't, i get off the bus.
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[14 Dec 2008|12:57pm] |
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today i saw the word poetry upside down, and it read as apoplexy.
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[13 Dec 2008|12:13am] |
i live on the top of the world on the edge of a cliff. the wind is going to blow me away. i wonder every time i undress in front of my big uncurtained windows if anyone can see me, but i always convince myself that i'm too high up, too far away.
sail baby sail
out upon the sea
only don't forget
to sail
back again
to me
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| monkey's teeth |
[05 Dec 2008|06:40pm] |
made by patients in a mental hospital under the guidance of rené laloux, félix guattari and jean oury, 1960.
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| you can pick your nose if he says so |
[04 Dec 2008|10:50pm] |
songs in my head make up a good portion of my mental state.
i won't mention the one that i had for weeks, or it will come back. it was horrid. the worst song in the world. it's been replaced with unpretty by tlc, which i am enjoying thoroughly.
i am son sa fool, i am sonsaful.
sharing airways with irreplaceable, and something else. when all songs were gone from my head and it was quiet negative voices came pouring in.
ask me something and i'll give you a one-card tarot reading.
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| new eyes |
[28 Nov 2008|02:18pm] |
last night i developed this film in my parents' kitchen sink.
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[27 Nov 2008|10:49pm] |
this thanksgiving was pretending disasters. divorce or death, or perhaps just estrangement. my dad, my brother and i cooked enough food for fourteen, and fed it to my dotty grandma. we accidentally made the turkey perfect, somehow. maybe it was because there was no bustle, no glow, no martha stuart aunts, just strict schedules, lists, preparations to keep the inevitable failure of our inexperience at bay. we almost went molecular with my dads roasted cashew and green onion infused acorn squash, and i was finally able to convince him of the wonders of cranberry sauce.
now, the rats in my parents' ceiling are fighting. they squeak just like toys. i think they are biting each others' rubber abdomens, their plastic tails tangling. jesus christ, it's horrifying because they're actually real, and there are many of them up there.
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