Minneapolis
MinneolaThursday, February 18, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
three tercets
lately all i do is go to bakeries and groceries and buy foods i've never had and then feel proud. do you guys know about skyr? it's like icelandic shrikhand and it's damn delicious.
tonight i will try a fruit i don't know the name of. i think it's some kind of custard apple, maybe a cherimoya. i hope it's as good as mark twain says.
if it is a cherimoya, i read that the seeds can be an insecticide, when crushed, and eating the skin can cause paralysis. how was there no warning sign at met foods? anyhow, thanks, internet.
tonight i will try a fruit i don't know the name of. i think it's some kind of custard apple, maybe a cherimoya. i hope it's as good as mark twain says.
if it is a cherimoya, i read that the seeds can be an insecticide, when crushed, and eating the skin can cause paralysis. how was there no warning sign at met foods? anyhow, thanks, internet.
Monday, December 14, 2009
WARMTH
I come here when I think I've figured something out.
I've deduced (decided) that my life lacks warmth. I think that is why everything's making me cry (poems, plays, glimmers of brick): no hugs, no sunlit rooms, no heart-to-hearts, no loud music, no pets, no plants, no singing in the shower, no vanilla extract. This is a list of very silly things but god do these things make me ache. I chose so many things but I feel trapped (in a small way). When I'm unhappy, when I feel trapped, I resent the wrong things (people). This weekend I will fill up on warmth and try again. Try to bring it here.
I've deduced (decided) that my life lacks warmth. I think that is why everything's making me cry (poems, plays, glimmers of brick): no hugs, no sunlit rooms, no heart-to-hearts, no loud music, no pets, no plants, no singing in the shower, no vanilla extract. This is a list of very silly things but god do these things make me ache. I chose so many things but I feel trapped (in a small way). When I'm unhappy, when I feel trapped, I resent the wrong things (people). This weekend I will fill up on warmth and try again. Try to bring it here.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
this is how we breathe
everything reminds me of everyone! pups and books and trees and hands and faces. which is how we know anything. and it all changes. what a thing. water glasses! imitations! god i love pretending things. the idea of things.
ideas and symbols and messages. i've talked to some people who underestimate the largeness of those and that's been a source of many of my frustrations lately. that, and knowing when someone else just isn't going to get it. or me. maybe there's no it. getting each other. i need to (like to) practice.
i really want to talk about god! but not theology. just everyone's fucked up ideas about spirits and decaying and cats and you and i.
...
ideas and symbols and messages. i've talked to some people who underestimate the largeness of those and that's been a source of many of my frustrations lately. that, and knowing when someone else just isn't going to get it. or me. maybe there's no it. getting each other. i need to (like to) practice.
i really want to talk about god! but not theology. just everyone's fucked up ideas about spirits and decaying and cats and you and i.
...
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
rage, riot, rile, rrrrr
i'm not actually mad about anything right now, i just like getting revved up about stuff. rrrrs = action, seems like.
we're starting a girl band. we're going to call ourselves 'bag of hair.' when i told will i said it's a name kind of like feminist art and he brought up the exact adrian piper piece i was thinking about. what will become of me?
ghosts!! existentially, that is what i think. i will become (am) an idea in other peoples' minds, memories, consciousnesses (is there a better way to pluralize that?) and i'll ghost around, linger. until i don't. maybe i'll have a gravestone and some kid will run a crayon over some paper over my name and that will be me, a ghost ghost ghost.
i don't know entirely what we'll sound like, but i want our band to sound like a genre that doesn't exist: feathercore.
(i work for that company now, btb.)
one time for work i had to strap a male underwear model into a pair of black costume wings and while i did we talked about ghosts. so now we're kind of chummy. after the wings were placed correctly i moved away and bopped his shoulder in a chummy way, but then he wasn't wearing a shirt so it was skin-to-skin. that was kind of weird because i hardly ever knock people on the shoulder in a chummy way and i've never chummily punched a shirtless person. but i don't really want to be chummy with models. i just want to hear about spirits and radio noise and brownstones.
we're starting a girl band. we're going to call ourselves 'bag of hair.' when i told will i said it's a name kind of like feminist art and he brought up the exact adrian piper piece i was thinking about. what will become of me?
ghosts!! existentially, that is what i think. i will become (am) an idea in other peoples' minds, memories, consciousnesses (is there a better way to pluralize that?) and i'll ghost around, linger. until i don't. maybe i'll have a gravestone and some kid will run a crayon over some paper over my name and that will be me, a ghost ghost ghost.
i don't know entirely what we'll sound like, but i want our band to sound like a genre that doesn't exist: feathercore.
(i work for that company now, btb.)
one time for work i had to strap a male underwear model into a pair of black costume wings and while i did we talked about ghosts. so now we're kind of chummy. after the wings were placed correctly i moved away and bopped his shoulder in a chummy way, but then he wasn't wearing a shirt so it was skin-to-skin. that was kind of weird because i hardly ever knock people on the shoulder in a chummy way and i've never chummily punched a shirtless person. but i don't really want to be chummy with models. i just want to hear about spirits and radio noise and brownstones.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)