yes yes yes yes yes.
bowerbirds - in our talons
about the video (from bowerbirds' myspace blog):
"Inspired by films like Microcosmos and The Planet Earth series, the video takes the visual spectacle of a nature documentary and puts it into a stop-motion animated world. We explore 3 magical creatures from 3 different lands, equally beautiful yet doomed by the hand of man.
"The stop-motion puppets were custom made for this video. The bird alone took over a month for the puppet fabricators to build. Over 300 feathers were manually sized and glued onto the bird puppet. For the animals to come to life, the puppet is put into position, a picture is taken, then the puppet is moved slightly and another picture is taken. This is done 24 times for one second of animation. On average we would shoot about 5 seconds of animation a day.
"Most of the miniature sets were made out of foam and clay and then painted. Clouds were made from cotton balls."
Friday, December 26, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
christmas time is here
it's a lot to ask of a man who would be 105 years old if alive today, but i wish bing crosby were still around. i'd like to give him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. it's the thought that counts, right? his soothing voice kept me company when i was snowed-in and lonesome. warm and fuzzy good vibes floated from the record player to my ears in that big empty house. and after years of singing those words of longing, we will have a white christmas this year.
i love the song, because it reminds me of how beautiful and enchanting the snow can be. it's been difficult to not get swept up in the frustration over the weather and treacherous road conditions. i admittedly let the secretest corner of my mouth curl into a smirk when listening to the complaints of those who can't commute to work or finish their shopping. "take a snow day, remember what it was like when you were a kid?" i think to myself. "are presents that essential to your christmas? bundle up and go outside. make snow angels, have a snowball fight, go sledding, build an igloo, make a snowman. warm up with hot chocolate, build a gingerbread house and make cut-out snowflakes. play with your kids and unleash your inner child." can you imagine? a white christmas with fun and games and crafts and warm drinks? friends and family, a lover nearby. maybe even--and this is radical--few to no presents?
the first morning we woke to snow and violet skies, i stood in that fresh powder and felt like whispering. and that hushed ecstasy is not a feeling i want to associate with the chaos that has ensued. so thank you bing crosby, for reminding me that a white christmas is not a disaster, but a gift.
--------
i feel like i'm in limbo. i'm at the point in my life where my friends have become my family, but we don't have any traditions yet. i've lost comfort in the traditions from my childhood, with little love loss. the traditions have either morphed or been tainted by new meanings or soured by memories of christmases past.
however, the traditional christmas specials, cheesy and ridiculous as they may be, remain the same year after year. these escapist stories have always been my refuge during the holidays. so, in that spirit, enjoy:
also, why didn't i know about this sooner?
Monday, December 22, 2008
snow showers
the live in-studio of too much time is enthralling. enjoy.
john vanderslice's music is too intertwined with memories for me to not think of phil when i listen to it. can't help it. ahh, every jv experience has been phenomenal.
i have "the snowshowers that fall on my troubles..." stuck in my head. god dammit.
also,
you're welcome ;)
-this is bowie to bowie, do you hear me out there man?
-this is bowie back to bowie, i read you loud and clear man.
hilarious.
john vanderslice's music is too intertwined with memories for me to not think of phil when i listen to it. can't help it. ahh, every jv experience has been phenomenal.
i have "the snowshowers that fall on my troubles..." stuck in my head. god dammit.
also,
you're welcome ;)
-this is bowie to bowie, do you hear me out there man?
-this is bowie back to bowie, i read you loud and clear man.
hilarious.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
in honor of snow
fleet foxes - white winter hymnal.
mmm.
listening to fleet foxes makes me feel like i should be humming and harmonizing every moment of my life into a soundtrack.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
nirvana, served warm
i really love his view of the world:
some of my favorites. phil bebbington has a massive archive; it was hard to narrow down my picks even this much.
sometimes i am so impressed by a photographer's work that i can transcend artist jealousy and charm the covetess in me to hover in a state of ecstasy through admiration, in a place where nirvana is served warm.
his entire photo blog is amazing.
some of my favorites. phil bebbington has a massive archive; it was hard to narrow down my picks even this much.
sometimes i am so impressed by a photographer's work that i can transcend artist jealousy and charm the covetess in me to hover in a state of ecstasy through admiration, in a place where nirvana is served warm.
his entire photo blog is amazing.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
self-control, or lack thereof
i'm obsessed. i know, i know -- it's not a good look. but i feel completely shameless.
an acoustic cover of "steep", an ohbijou song covered by ohbijou(?) with the acorn. ohbijou is the one of the most fun band names to say. i kind of love that they mess up a little bit. especially when the guy on the left joins in, just for one line, to help them get back on track. he harmonizes really nicely, and when the girl says "nice" in approval, there's a moment. it wouldn't be the same otherwise. i love ralph's voice from the acorn in this song.
lyrics to steep:
this could be our last resort
let’s cut these limbs that weigh us down
the spies hide out in smoky leaves
our love is sweet espionage
my temper flares with moves off course
romance misplaced in busy days
the night sinks like stones in this dirty gut
that haunt with the ghosts our bodies make
and I swing sweet
and skim these streets
that hold me in one piece
and dismiss these spells
of wishing wells
whose costs on me
have been too steep
Crooked Legs by The Acorn from Paper Bag Records on Vimeo.
i love this. absolutely and completely. i'm so stoked on this style of animation. it's similar to flood pt 1, i think.
one of the sickest videos i've ever seen. favorite part: 3 minutes, 25 seconds in. such interesting and spot-on cinematography choices.
these are amazing amazing. amazing.
"say crack again--"
"crack!"
an acoustic cover of "steep", an ohbijou song covered by ohbijou(?) with the acorn. ohbijou is the one of the most fun band names to say. i kind of love that they mess up a little bit. especially when the guy on the left joins in, just for one line, to help them get back on track. he harmonizes really nicely, and when the girl says "nice" in approval, there's a moment. it wouldn't be the same otherwise. i love ralph's voice from the acorn in this song.
lyrics to steep:
this could be our last resort
let’s cut these limbs that weigh us down
the spies hide out in smoky leaves
our love is sweet espionage
my temper flares with moves off course
romance misplaced in busy days
the night sinks like stones in this dirty gut
that haunt with the ghosts our bodies make
and I swing sweet
and skim these streets
that hold me in one piece
and dismiss these spells
of wishing wells
whose costs on me
have been too steep
Crooked Legs by The Acorn from Paper Bag Records on Vimeo.
i love this. absolutely and completely. i'm so stoked on this style of animation. it's similar to flood pt 1, i think.
one of the sickest videos i've ever seen. favorite part: 3 minutes, 25 seconds in. such interesting and spot-on cinematography choices.
these are amazing amazing. amazing.
"say crack again--"
"crack!"
Monday, December 15, 2008
pennys, pennies and postsecrets
i need two existential detectives to solve my coincidence.
penny is my alias; a given nickname, a chosen identity in a way. like clementine.
in the past two days...
- i have found the dog i want. her name is penny.
- i caught these lyrics for the first time listening to jesus christ was an only child by modest mouse: "penny found out as her hair was styled..."
- then, i found the video for flood pt. 1 by the acorn. i have never been so gripped by a video. it's magical and wonderful. visually stunning, it's like a beautiful dreamscape. every time i watch it, i'm overwhelmed by how uniquely imaginative and artistic it is.
this is the description for the meaning of the video from hearya.com:
one part of the video reminds me of the science of sleep, because the water looks like moving pieces of blue cellophane.
*edit: i found the lyrics to flood pt 1, and i have to share.
lift your head from wild and wicked sleep
where seven-headed serpents hiss soliloquies
and while picking snails from the river of the valley
you don't see the storm clouds piling up so quietly
the rushing river rattlesnakes your legs
and baby boy has got you drinking from the dead
you lick your lips and paddle for the levee
the sinking banks are sifting through your teeth
as you float up, see the river skins the valley
and strips the sleeping sediment of memory
you lift your head from wild and wicked sleep
the withered river sputters at your feet
and all around the sound is slow and muddy
the sunlight scatters pennies through the leaves
as you wake up see the river skins the valley
you'd love to wash this summer from your memory
i wish i could write like this.
---
and, i'm obsessed. but who can say they haven't been at one time or another?
i have felt like this. i think we might all do this, to some extent. makes me think...
part of me feels this way. and by part of me, i mean the little girl tantrumming around inside the walls of my brain, driveling these words at me in drowned hisses through tiny teeth and spit-cry.
brilliant. i don't think i could bring myself to do it, but it's so clever. and tempting now that i've made it forbidden... shit.
whenever i receive affiration that i wasn't the only weird child in the world, i feels good. really good; like i've just found another of my long lost kindred souls.
this one makes me shudder. but i feel like i know these girls... if i was really brave, i would admit that, short of date-rape, i have been this girl. i know a lot of gay guys and lesbians who have been this girl.
thank god.
it's honest and heartbreaking. such a beautiful acceptance of a tragic fate in unrequited love. i consider this art.
this one made me laugh out loud, therefore immediately earning a spot.
it's simple, and i love it.
this is easier than it sounds...
mental illnes theme... some of these are quite haunting, and i think that's why i like them. they're kind of dark, like anything that needs keeping secret.
i can't decide if i think this is realistic, pessimistic or nihilistic.
i'm eating my words, not all secrets by necessity are dark. that's why this was one of my instant favorites.
this is one of the most beautiful postsecrets i've ever seen. it's such a romantic idea, i want to believe this is a true secret, i choose to believe that. i want to hold on to the fantasy of someone making a spontaneous choice to choose a new life, be someone else. it's a beautiful notion: new life being born of hate, something ugly and wildly destructive. but another side of me feels for this person's loved ones from the 'previous' life. what of those who suffered the loss? then again, perhaps this person's life was awful. maybe there was no family or friends to leave behind. i've never been so curious, created so many fictional lives in my head, racked my brain so intensely for an answer that won't come. it's a make believe answer i will either convince myself is reality or a solution to a mystery that will remain mystery forever. i want to write a play inspired by this, written in acts that show different possibilities, each one stranger and more far-fetched than the one before. maybe in one, whoever wrote this was a conspirator in 9/11. or a boring, unhappy man trades his family, salary job and house in the suburbs to disappear into a remote paradise.
i don't have the guts to tell her.
if my life was a little more black & white on the sexuality and natural-lifestyle spectrums -- and i could grow a pair -- i would say this to my father.
and i finally found this one down the rabbit hole of my external hard drive...
i had been looking for this one. (by the way, i'm every kind of pack rat a person can be, in 'real life' and in cyberland. they're basically parallel universes anyway, i get it. makes sense. i'm also every kind of ADD a person can be. oi vey.)
when i was a kid, i used to lay awake at night, equally terrified of heaven and hell.
last thing: i'm making an ironic christmas mix. it's going to be chock-full of songs that have some connection to christmas-related themes, but aren't considered christmas songs at all. for example, songs to soothe the lamentations of seasonal defectiveness and all severities of humbug. comedic christmas songs and surviving-another-year anthems will have their place too. also, jesus christ was an only child will appear on the mix. the song i'm most excited about is a surprise.
fin.
penny is my alias; a given nickname, a chosen identity in a way. like clementine.
in the past two days...
- i have found the dog i want. her name is penny.
- i caught these lyrics for the first time listening to jesus christ was an only child by modest mouse: "penny found out as her hair was styled..."
- then, i found the video for flood pt. 1 by the acorn. i have never been so gripped by a video. it's magical and wonderful. visually stunning, it's like a beautiful dreamscape. every time i watch it, i'm overwhelmed by how uniquely imaginative and artistic it is.
this is the description for the meaning of the video from hearya.com:
"flood pt. 1 is a modern fable with many hidden meanings in the video’s several twists and turns. A penny falls from the sky and begins a cataclysmic chain of events. A glacier falls from a subarctic cliff and wakes a giant who sleeps beneath the sea. The angry giant unleashes his fury in the form of a Tsunami which forms into evil storm clouds that spew rain storms of treasure and gold into a bucolic river, where our hero (and heroine) are picking
snails.”
snails.”
one part of the video reminds me of the science of sleep, because the water looks like moving pieces of blue cellophane.
*edit: i found the lyrics to flood pt 1, and i have to share.
lift your head from wild and wicked sleep
where seven-headed serpents hiss soliloquies
and while picking snails from the river of the valley
you don't see the storm clouds piling up so quietly
the rushing river rattlesnakes your legs
and baby boy has got you drinking from the dead
you lick your lips and paddle for the levee
the sinking banks are sifting through your teeth
as you float up, see the river skins the valley
and strips the sleeping sediment of memory
you lift your head from wild and wicked sleep
the withered river sputters at your feet
and all around the sound is slow and muddy
the sunlight scatters pennies through the leaves
as you wake up see the river skins the valley
you'd love to wash this summer from your memory
i wish i could write like this.
---
and, i'm obsessed. but who can say they haven't been at one time or another?
i have felt like this. i think we might all do this, to some extent. makes me think...
part of me feels this way. and by part of me, i mean the little girl tantrumming around inside the walls of my brain, driveling these words at me in drowned hisses through tiny teeth and spit-cry.
brilliant. i don't think i could bring myself to do it, but it's so clever. and tempting now that i've made it forbidden... shit.
whenever i receive affiration that i wasn't the only weird child in the world, i feels good. really good; like i've just found another of my long lost kindred souls.
this one makes me shudder. but i feel like i know these girls... if i was really brave, i would admit that, short of date-rape, i have been this girl. i know a lot of gay guys and lesbians who have been this girl.
thank god.
it's honest and heartbreaking. such a beautiful acceptance of a tragic fate in unrequited love. i consider this art.
this one made me laugh out loud, therefore immediately earning a spot.
it's simple, and i love it.
this is easier than it sounds...
mental illnes theme... some of these are quite haunting, and i think that's why i like them. they're kind of dark, like anything that needs keeping secret.
i can't decide if i think this is realistic, pessimistic or nihilistic.
i'm eating my words, not all secrets by necessity are dark. that's why this was one of my instant favorites.
this is one of the most beautiful postsecrets i've ever seen. it's such a romantic idea, i want to believe this is a true secret, i choose to believe that. i want to hold on to the fantasy of someone making a spontaneous choice to choose a new life, be someone else. it's a beautiful notion: new life being born of hate, something ugly and wildly destructive. but another side of me feels for this person's loved ones from the 'previous' life. what of those who suffered the loss? then again, perhaps this person's life was awful. maybe there was no family or friends to leave behind. i've never been so curious, created so many fictional lives in my head, racked my brain so intensely for an answer that won't come. it's a make believe answer i will either convince myself is reality or a solution to a mystery that will remain mystery forever. i want to write a play inspired by this, written in acts that show different possibilities, each one stranger and more far-fetched than the one before. maybe in one, whoever wrote this was a conspirator in 9/11. or a boring, unhappy man trades his family, salary job and house in the suburbs to disappear into a remote paradise.
i don't have the guts to tell her.
if my life was a little more black & white on the sexuality and natural-lifestyle spectrums -- and i could grow a pair -- i would say this to my father.
and i finally found this one down the rabbit hole of my external hard drive...
i had been looking for this one. (by the way, i'm every kind of pack rat a person can be, in 'real life' and in cyberland. they're basically parallel universes anyway, i get it. makes sense. i'm also every kind of ADD a person can be. oi vey.)when i was a kid, i used to lay awake at night, equally terrified of heaven and hell.
last thing: i'm making an ironic christmas mix. it's going to be chock-full of songs that have some connection to christmas-related themes, but aren't considered christmas songs at all. for example, songs to soothe the lamentations of seasonal defectiveness and all severities of humbug. comedic christmas songs and surviving-another-year anthems will have their place too. also, jesus christ was an only child will appear on the mix. the song i'm most excited about is a surprise.
fin.
debauchery
too drunk last night.
at least if i was too drunk and obnoxious, i was a happy drunk. better than a sobbing mess. i've been that girl. or a maniacal, reckless, self-endangering machine... been her too.
i remember...
- telling dallas he was one of my best friends. and reenacting the night of his 21st.
- having a tiff with bret about something or other... the usual.
- telling ella it was a nice surprise to see her because i didn't expect to until our tentative snow photo hangout sesh thursday.
but, the most memorable part of the whole night by far...
- making out with kaela in the dark, being told to take it outside by the neighbor, feeling embarassed as shit, taking it outside to the hood of a car (who's car?)... next thing i knew i was being body-slammed by kayla, as she put it. suffice it to say i wound up on my back, on the ground, with kayla mangled on top of me, scrambling to get up while laughing her ass off. by the end of the ordeal, i had beer in my hair and i was laughing the hardest i've ever laughed. bret walked outside when we were still struggling to get off the ground. kayla told him the whole story, me doubled-over with laughing pains, then proceeded to tell everyone else inside. oh god. oh goddd. priceless.
after this act of debauchery, i was in dire need of another beer. this conversation ensued:
b: "you sure you need another one?"
a: "you're right. i just need to smoke some weed."
b: "..."
oh, and i threw up twice. i'm taking my alcoholism to a new level. i mean, not intentionally, really. it's pretty damn disgusting. i've developed a habit of drinking drinking drinking, puking, drinking more, puking, drinking, driving home, passing out. sometimes i eat ramen between getting home and passing out.
what. the. fuck.
last night i bumped into a wall and a door or two. i even fell in the kitchen. backwards. in my defense, my boots were really slick from the snow and ice. imagine the classic slipping-on-a-banana-peel gag... that's exactly how i fell.
the last thing i remember is watching american beauty after stuffing my face (i hate the drunk munchies), and thinking about rolling a joint... before i knew it, i was waking up at 9 a.m. in desperate need of water.
that was my last hoorah for a while, and i knew that going in. probably why i got so drunk. not to mention the always present and hovering possibility of awkwardness, but also excitement to see my friends. i don't know why i can't just be nervous, be excited; why i have to down alcohol like it's elixir.
at any rate, i start a new job tuesday. responsibilities.... yeah. making coffee and taking photos. i think i can handle that for a while. i hope. please, don't get restless and fuck it all up is my mantra right now. a little dismal, but necessary.
i am so incredibly heartbroken over not having any 120 film right now i can barely stand it. the lighting in my house has been beautiful, perfect really, all day. the sun was shining this morning, and the sunset was so breathtaking it wasn't even fair. snow and pink puffy cloud against a blue sky... damn the luck of not having a digital or any polaroid or 120 film.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
dear snow,
please stick around. you're beautiful, and i love your presence in my life. be my muse.
your friend,
penny
p.s. until we meet again, some forget-me-nots...
oh, and speaking of penny. i made the mistake of looking at pet adoption pages on craigslist yesterday, even though i have no intention of getting a pet. i would love to have a pet, but i can't have one right now. i fell in love with a black lab retriever shepard mix with big, sad eyes. her name is penny, it's fate. i'm going to keep her as my imaginary dog.
i know, right?
at least if i was too drunk and obnoxious, i was a happy drunk. better than a sobbing mess. i've been that girl. or a maniacal, reckless, self-endangering machine... been her too.
i remember...
- telling dallas he was one of my best friends. and reenacting the night of his 21st.
- having a tiff with bret about something or other... the usual.
- telling ella it was a nice surprise to see her because i didn't expect to until our tentative snow photo hangout sesh thursday.
but, the most memorable part of the whole night by far...
- making out with kaela in the dark, being told to take it outside by the neighbor, feeling embarassed as shit, taking it outside to the hood of a car (who's car?)... next thing i knew i was being body-slammed by kayla, as she put it. suffice it to say i wound up on my back, on the ground, with kayla mangled on top of me, scrambling to get up while laughing her ass off. by the end of the ordeal, i had beer in my hair and i was laughing the hardest i've ever laughed. bret walked outside when we were still struggling to get off the ground. kayla told him the whole story, me doubled-over with laughing pains, then proceeded to tell everyone else inside. oh god. oh goddd. priceless.
after this act of debauchery, i was in dire need of another beer. this conversation ensued:
b: "you sure you need another one?"
a: "you're right. i just need to smoke some weed."
b: "..."
oh, and i threw up twice. i'm taking my alcoholism to a new level. i mean, not intentionally, really. it's pretty damn disgusting. i've developed a habit of drinking drinking drinking, puking, drinking more, puking, drinking, driving home, passing out. sometimes i eat ramen between getting home and passing out.
what. the. fuck.
last night i bumped into a wall and a door or two. i even fell in the kitchen. backwards. in my defense, my boots were really slick from the snow and ice. imagine the classic slipping-on-a-banana-peel gag... that's exactly how i fell.
the last thing i remember is watching american beauty after stuffing my face (i hate the drunk munchies), and thinking about rolling a joint... before i knew it, i was waking up at 9 a.m. in desperate need of water.
that was my last hoorah for a while, and i knew that going in. probably why i got so drunk. not to mention the always present and hovering possibility of awkwardness, but also excitement to see my friends. i don't know why i can't just be nervous, be excited; why i have to down alcohol like it's elixir.
at any rate, i start a new job tuesday. responsibilities.... yeah. making coffee and taking photos. i think i can handle that for a while. i hope. please, don't get restless and fuck it all up is my mantra right now. a little dismal, but necessary.
i am so incredibly heartbroken over not having any 120 film right now i can barely stand it. the lighting in my house has been beautiful, perfect really, all day. the sun was shining this morning, and the sunset was so breathtaking it wasn't even fair. snow and pink puffy cloud against a blue sky... damn the luck of not having a digital or any polaroid or 120 film.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
dear snow,
please stick around. you're beautiful, and i love your presence in my life. be my muse.
your friend,
penny
p.s. until we meet again, some forget-me-nots...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
oh, and speaking of penny. i made the mistake of looking at pet adoption pages on craigslist yesterday, even though i have no intention of getting a pet. i would love to have a pet, but i can't have one right now. i fell in love with a black lab retriever shepard mix with big, sad eyes. her name is penny, it's fate. i'm going to keep her as my imaginary dog.
i know, right?Sunday, December 14, 2008
spontaneous lol moment
i just remembered something...
favorite quote of the week: "did you say you're a pussy or something about your pussy?"
bah!
favorite quote of the week: "did you say you're a pussy or something about your pussy?"
bah!
sharing is scaring
i'm taken aback by how personal yet accessible postsecrets are. i have a love/hate relationship with them for that reason; it's like reading my own secrets sometimes, but they've been written and submitted by someone else. it all makes me feel like a naked voyeur. the worst kind.
it doesn't matter how much i remind myself, "those very words, in that order, have slinked through your brain before. you have thought that very thought."
my secret (minus the postcard or any kind of art, for now, sorry):
i am jealous of each anonymous poster, regardless of their secret, for having the initiative i lack to send something in.
a few postsecrets have stopped me in my tracks... (like the one about being terrified of eternity, regardless of the notion of spending it in either hypothetical heaven or hell).
when i saw this...
... i felt a freight train go straight through my chest.
first words to zip-line to my mind: this is me.
then a correction: this was me a year ago. (that one made me feel better, especially when i realized it was true.)
i still have bad days. days when the numbing, pupil-dilating conclusion finds me: i'm using my diagnosis (for lack of a better word and disgust for other words like illness, disorder, etc.) as an excuse for other problems; maybe i have given up... did give up, at one time. then again, i can never tell if that's the self-deprecation talking, or if my instincts are right. makes 'getting better' that much more complicated...
but that heart-to-heart with vanessa made me realize a lot of things... and my heart-to-hearts with megan and gracie always help. that makes me sound broken and needy, but fine. having good friends to fall back on is comforting enough to inspire me to lower a wall or two.
so maybe i'm a coveter of secrets. i'm not proud of it.
but stealing secrets? i don't think that's even possible. that would be like stealing someone's religion.
sharing secrets...? well, we all do. we all do.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
iceland
i feel a void.
but also, i'm in love:
"Our Heroine woke to the sound of snowflakes, plaughtting against the window, perfect stellar dendrites that shattered as they crashed against the glass. Through a too-dry throat she groaned at them -- some Adamic word of banishing -- but it was fruitless, and the snow's frigid spirit managed nonetheless to translate itself across the pane. From there it pressed on through blankets, quilts, and sheets to possess Our Heroine buried nude beneath. She shivered, let a yawn well through her body, and as she stretched herself out among the farthest reaches of bed, she felt the acids built up in her limbs; she felt how far she could stretch without touching anything at all.
"She had not been alone upon her alcoholic fall into sleep, though she found herself so now... The quilts and comforters curled around her still smelled of him -- clean and fleshy, like soap made from bacon fat -- and his head had left a pillow-dent, but the body itself was lacking. She pulled one last whiff of him in through her nostrils, and then again, across the roof of her mouth, she sounded her barbaric yawn. Song of herself."
-Icelander, Dustin Long
my mind's pallette welcomes and savors these words like slow bites of buttery, chocolate dessert, taken sensually off warm spoons with soft lips and delicate tongues -- in reality, something this decadent doesn't appeal to me, for all its too-sweet overindulgence. but rich words are another story...
i live for anything worth savoring.
but also, i'm in love:
"Our Heroine woke to the sound of snowflakes, plaughtting against the window, perfect stellar dendrites that shattered as they crashed against the glass. Through a too-dry throat she groaned at them -- some Adamic word of banishing -- but it was fruitless, and the snow's frigid spirit managed nonetheless to translate itself across the pane. From there it pressed on through blankets, quilts, and sheets to possess Our Heroine buried nude beneath. She shivered, let a yawn well through her body, and as she stretched herself out among the farthest reaches of bed, she felt the acids built up in her limbs; she felt how far she could stretch without touching anything at all.
"She had not been alone upon her alcoholic fall into sleep, though she found herself so now... The quilts and comforters curled around her still smelled of him -- clean and fleshy, like soap made from bacon fat -- and his head had left a pillow-dent, but the body itself was lacking. She pulled one last whiff of him in through her nostrils, and then again, across the roof of her mouth, she sounded her barbaric yawn. Song of herself."
-Icelander, Dustin Long
my mind's pallette welcomes and savors these words like slow bites of buttery, chocolate dessert, taken sensually off warm spoons with soft lips and delicate tongues -- in reality, something this decadent doesn't appeal to me, for all its too-sweet overindulgence. but rich words are another story...
i live for anything worth savoring.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
cravings
park swings
mood slings
bee stings
live shows
knee deep snow
floating, flying
waking up before dying
holding hands
strangers' beds
mussed up hair
blankets
naked
grass
bikes and booze
weed, acid, shrooms
love
life
fucking
rain
saying no to being sane
tree houses
street mouses
listening and whispering
tugging and kissing
packs
slacks
small racks
perfume and cat-eyes
phone calls, no lies
boys
beards
tattoos
my mind is going 8,000,000 miles a minute right now. i live for days like these.
i can feel all my atoms buzzing on crack.
fuccckkk yesss for mania. i'm gonna run around until coughing violently forces me to stop. i feel like rae in black snake moan with this hacking cough.
none of this was meant to make sense or rhyme or be poetry. douche-bag of the century right here, but i don't currrrrrr.
mood slings
bee stings
live shows
knee deep snow
floating, flying
waking up before dying
holding hands
strangers' beds
mussed up hair
blankets
naked
grass
bikes and booze
weed, acid, shrooms
love
life
fucking
rain
saying no to being sane
tree houses
street mouses
listening and whispering
tugging and kissing
packs
slacks
small racks
perfume and cat-eyes
phone calls, no lies
boys
beards
tattoos
my mind is going 8,000,000 miles a minute right now. i live for days like these.
i can feel all my atoms buzzing on crack.
fuccckkk yesss for mania. i'm gonna run around until coughing violently forces me to stop. i feel like rae in black snake moan with this hacking cough.
none of this was meant to make sense or rhyme or be poetry. douche-bag of the century right here, but i don't currrrrrr.
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