PANTOMINE!
That's the word I was looking for earlier.
Or is it pantoMIME?
Close enough.
Friday, 26 March 2010
That is it
Today.
Yes, there was a Today. The world did not end. Wormwood did not decide to pay Terra Firma a visit and blow earth to smitherooniekuns.
Lately, I have been tired and sleepy. I dozed off in traffic today. I dozed off while reading "Stranger" on the bus. I'm dozing off right now. The Sandman is flirting with my eyelids and I don't like it. I want him dead.
I saw the world again through a yellow-tint.
A friend of mine experienced immense suffering.
Empty mind. Here.
Work tomorrow, then かずこ先生's birthday party. I hope there will be rose wine there; I think she like's it. It will be good to see her and 正二先生 again.
I'm visiting my friend in Japan this summer. Our shared room will be as big as a luxury closet. At least I'm staying for free!
Hard to write. Edit: hard to write 'well' consistently. disconnected.
Have you ever seen time slip from your fingers like sand? Has reality evaporated from your brain?
I'm tired. I have to work tomorrow. I haven't studied shit all week.
Yes, there was a Today. The world did not end. Wormwood did not decide to pay Terra Firma a visit and blow earth to smitherooniekuns.
Lately, I have been tired and sleepy. I dozed off in traffic today. I dozed off while reading "Stranger" on the bus. I'm dozing off right now. The Sandman is flirting with my eyelids and I don't like it. I want him dead.
I saw the world again through a yellow-tint.
A friend of mine experienced immense suffering.
Empty mind. Here.
Work tomorrow, then かずこ先生's birthday party. I hope there will be rose wine there; I think she like's it. It will be good to see her and 正二先生 again.
I'm visiting my friend in Japan this summer. Our shared room will be as big as a luxury closet. At least I'm staying for free!
Hard to write. Edit: hard to write 'well' consistently. disconnected.
Have you ever seen time slip from your fingers like sand? Has reality evaporated from your brain?
I'm tired. I have to work tomorrow. I haven't studied shit all week.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
This is It
Today.
Today, I saw the world through a yellow tint. Did R Kelly piss on me eyes? No. I wore yellow-tinted sunglasses. It gave the world a solemn, old, vintage look. The morning looked darker, fuller, more mature - a PG-13 rated morning look. A morning full of strong, blaqk coffee (no sugar) and boring, sugarless bran cereal...not fruit loops or pop tarts.
It is time to grow up.
But Peter Pan is here and he's castrated himself so that he will not grow up. Unfortunately, he's made himself a castrato and the Sicilians want him, now.
I digress.
Women and girls and females. Human. All around campus. In their sandals and shorts and skirts. Skin. And such wonderful skin. Legs and thighs and arms and feet. Polished toenails. And hair.
No wind today.
A woman on the bus told me today, "Everything out there," she gestured outside the four-walled moving machine, but was really referring to the world, "is science fiction." Through yellow-tinted sunglasses, I took in her full, round face, full of age, wisdom, and kindness. A face a son needed to see after running away from home too long.
Mountain Dew, cold, after school. Drank between long expanses of reading 'Stranger'
A dying tree crowded by bricks and people and insanity and people - yes, again, people; an old chair hiding behind a bush for perhaps many months, rained on and snowed on and sunbleached; those who smile only out of necessity and fear; girls who smoke; cigarette butts as ubiquitous as blood in a human body, or corruption or love in a human heart; a sky without clouds, or clouds that look like fish scales; a sigh seen and not heard: like Romeo and Juliet, and tragedy, and Gatsby, and the Ubermensch, and the death of God in the New Age, and a Catcher in the Rye, and a Clockwork Orange - these, too, deserve to have their stories told.
Haikus, novels, short stories - come forth! Preserve them, before we forget them.
How selfish can we be?
Today, I saw the world through a yellow tint. Did R Kelly piss on me eyes? No. I wore yellow-tinted sunglasses. It gave the world a solemn, old, vintage look. The morning looked darker, fuller, more mature - a PG-13 rated morning look. A morning full of strong, blaqk coffee (no sugar) and boring, sugarless bran cereal...not fruit loops or pop tarts.
It is time to grow up.
But Peter Pan is here and he's castrated himself so that he will not grow up. Unfortunately, he's made himself a castrato and the Sicilians want him, now.
I digress.
Women and girls and females. Human. All around campus. In their sandals and shorts and skirts. Skin. And such wonderful skin. Legs and thighs and arms and feet. Polished toenails. And hair.
No wind today.
A woman on the bus told me today, "Everything out there," she gestured outside the four-walled moving machine, but was really referring to the world, "is science fiction." Through yellow-tinted sunglasses, I took in her full, round face, full of age, wisdom, and kindness. A face a son needed to see after running away from home too long.
Mountain Dew, cold, after school. Drank between long expanses of reading 'Stranger'
A dying tree crowded by bricks and people and insanity and people - yes, again, people; an old chair hiding behind a bush for perhaps many months, rained on and snowed on and sunbleached; those who smile only out of necessity and fear; girls who smoke; cigarette butts as ubiquitous as blood in a human body, or corruption or love in a human heart; a sky without clouds, or clouds that look like fish scales; a sigh seen and not heard: like Romeo and Juliet, and tragedy, and Gatsby, and the Ubermensch, and the death of God in the New Age, and a Catcher in the Rye, and a Clockwork Orange - these, too, deserve to have their stories told.
Haikus, novels, short stories - come forth! Preserve them, before we forget them.
How selfish can we be?
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Monday, 22 March 2010
There's nothing more daunting than an empty page.
Except maybe empty eyes.
Or your girlfriend's father. I imagine that's like meeting the President on very bad terms and the Secret Service watching you through sniper crosshairs.
But the page! oh! It mocks you! So wide, so endless, so excessive in its freedom!
Except maybe empty eyes.
Or your girlfriend's father. I imagine that's like meeting the President on very bad terms and the Secret Service watching you through sniper crosshairs.
But the page! oh! It mocks you! So wide, so endless, so excessive in its freedom!
Sunday, 14 March 2010
/b/
From a blaze of glory, the hero appears. His cloak is firm, blaqk, and torn. And he's mad as all hell.
Bad guys are going to pay. Good guys are going to get pushed to the side, powerless in his struggle against beings that exist only in the shadows of people. He is the common man, awaken, who threw away all his fancy tech. Unbound, unconnected, unwanted.
Into the blaze of glory, the hero charges.
his theme song: "People Are Strange."
Bad guys are going to pay. Good guys are going to get pushed to the side, powerless in his struggle against beings that exist only in the shadows of people. He is the common man, awaken, who threw away all his fancy tech. Unbound, unconnected, unwanted.
Into the blaze of glory, the hero charges.
his theme song: "People Are Strange."