Friday, 23 April 2010

young pilgrims

i am leaving early
[tomorrow morning]

behold the unreached

acquainted with no one

i'll not miss you
but when i'm done
i will miss

my hair is a new length.

Sunday, 18 April 2010

my kind of awesome

  •   Travel.
  • The Hype Machine
  • silk on freshly shaved legs
  • poetry
  • remixed songs recommended by a self proclaimed music snob: H.
  • smell of espresso on a cold morning
  • sex
  • a good read. Roald Dahl. Tom Robbins. etc.
  • hugs; really great, completely enveloped, this doesn't have an expiry date hugging
  • The Tallest Man On Earth
  • funny comedians
  • eroticism
  • crisp grapes
  • a great song coming on the radio
  • making people smile. sincere, suddenly appearing on their faces just because they can't hold it in any longer smiling
  • Crystal Castles
  • Italians; mainly you J. L., G. (my "Fratello"), and V. (my "Sorella")
  • getting good grades
  • getting drunk: without hangovers and vomit
  • Wes Anderson
  • self expression. colour. art. movement. textile
  • good radio shows: Open Heart Surgery, etc.
  • raves
  • having curly hair
  • sex marks
  • photography
  • food. good food. foreign food. gourmet food. home cooked food. guilty food. i'm eating this because i'm young and i can food.
  • bad music thats fun to dance to
  • collage-ing
  • fires. bonfires. campfires. firemen.
  • superbly comfertable bedding
  • painting. art. walls.
  • vintage
  • statements
  • acting. the high from a good performance
  • stage kissing
  • Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
  • making a strangers day
  • eating food without plates and utensils
  • gorilla art
  • admiring someone
  • swimming
  • pie
  • physically exhausting activities (that aren't team sports, because i suck at team sports)
  • getting sincere compliments from people you admire
  • finding a muse
  • bits of yourself that you suddenly realize you like.
  • admitting secrets
  • gummy worms
  • orgasms.

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Parabolic whimsy

today i was a child.
i was a kid. 

i was young. 

i personified joy, innocence.

tilting, sun light, nah: sun warmth
in my hair, 
my face, 
under my arms, through my fingers, 
swirling round

rock playthings
yellow roadline hopscotch
 tightrope success

in my ears
beating, pounding

the wind, the rhythm, the sun, the lyrics.

laughing, beaming.

today i was a child.

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Sunday, 11 April 2010

this space is themed

waist adorned with apron strings
she -nonetheless- saunters

this space is themed
Tuscany: chipped paint,
peeking-tom wood grain
retina jab of colour

digital standstill
two hour laundry, pre instantgratificationism

this space is themed
Scandinavian: bear hug elegance,
toe curling comfort
legfire delicacy

this space is themed

marrow churning, subconscious alliance

this space is themed
Ocean: acidification
deepsleep rhythms
goose flight equipment
womb light
under the bed there dwells

plainveiw secretwhispers: unfulfilled eroticism

this space is themed:
my 3:00 p.m. Scotch neat
my bottle of Valium

face adorned with laughter
she -nonetheless- falters

this space is open to suggestions

Thursday, 8 April 2010

When you talk to Denis on Thursday

please let him know,

For your information,
and Denis's,
you assign a director
and that is it.

if he so desires them to

you will need to tell him this
tell him how to do so.

correct permissions.

resources only appear         ...            ...             ...          in the footer link?

Wednesday, 7 April 2010

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

"Our similarities 

provide us with a common ground, 

but our differences 

allow us to be fascinated by one another."

Monday, 5 April 2010

-endangered beauty-

red rabbits

revert to childhood.
the anticipation is stronger
the taste, acquired

the hunt, innocent
my mind tightly focused
on you
chocolate bringer
waffle maker
greetingcard resurrection

Saturday, 3 April 2010

within the breath

the organized chaos of this room is forcing me into lines, boxed shapes. the manufactured grain of the wood matches the flyeye speakers.
bands on my fingers, synthetic on my toes, structured, man-made.
the whorls of shadow, cast by my confusion don't fit in the drawers.
there are edges and middles and we make it, we create it, we place it there and expect it to be there upon our return and it is, because we are the makers. we are the water. the icebergs and this room is the ground, the mountains, aching for valleys to mediate the jagged edges, to promote the raw sexuality of the straining molecules. this is the room with the chemical paint finish. with the flat realities and legal identities. this is the room without glass portals, this is the room of our descent.
my memory knows something else. something farther away. where the whorls are lifted, memorized. in that place we impose labels, lines, but they are shaken. they are thin veils, sheer, flirty. useless. for when the dance starts, those veils fall, one-by-one, and we are left naked, exposed to our others. in the place we haven't created, we change nothing and it will always change. in this place birthmarks become continent maps. wineglasses are swimming pools for butterfly nannies, where nailpolish is a figment of the goats imagination. we are in the valleys, the left over sex-scent of carnal beginnings. we are inanimate. we are the intimate. we are there and that is us and without our veils we fly apart, our pieces finding niches. our glistening, is all the light and we are all that we can see, hear, we are the sensation of a lovers tongue, we are the tip of destruction and the definition of breathe.