the masses form: pushing and pleading, solid and solitary, into a thousand little arms and legs: onlookers, spectators, watchers and witnesses, all eyes upon the screen. a man's life is extracted to film, days decomposed and synthesized into 90-minute narratives, recycled through a video projector. minstrels and balladeers convert passion to sound ( Read more... )

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i. the air circulates around me the sound of a steady hum, the shapeless exhale of a noise: soft -- sonorous -- ill-defined. the sky is darkness in transit; stars awaken in a celestial sea and appear as paper lanterns, hanging from some unseen thread. seconds give birth to days: each hour swiftly passes through without notice -- without hestitation ( Read more... )

i could never believe myself born from the sea: were i birthed from any part of this world, it must be the earth: just like the oak and the willow, the camellia and the peony, my feet sink deep into the soil; my fingers bloom forth from my hands -- like leaves upon branches -- like petals upon a stem.

we traveled far across the land, through cities ( Read more... )

Alcott, Louisa May: Little Women
Austen, Jane: Emma, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility
Bronte, Emily: Wuthering Heights
Bronte, Charlotte: Jane Eyre, Shirley, The Professor, Villette
Burnette, Frances Hodgson: A Little Princess, The Secret Garden, The Lost Prince
Conrad, Joseph: Nostromo
Cooper, ( Read more... )

come feel along your side
the long cool touch
of current
like a far remembered life

come quicken to the now you hear
cutting off from closer years
bounding into heavy pouring sounds

come quick into the icy sting
sharpening to everything
pounding boundaries

come away
and follow me

i think it is really beautiful to see that the newest version of aim is not as awful as i thought it would be.

i am sacrae particulae, additionally, so if you feel at any point you would like to have a really boring and uncomfortable conversation, i may or may not be able to provide that, depending on whether or not i am online.

i feel somehow that ( Read more... )

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the world rushes towards me from the end of a telescope: my eyes are bound, bounded and circumscribed; my fingers grow cold, then colder: i stretch in all directions and feel only air. time stops, slows, writhes and wriggles, and seconds unfold into days. life breathes itself into me, becomes a ghost, becomes a stranger, and disappears with an ( Read more... )

the clutter in my room continues to accumulate, and i fear if i do not bring myself to clean it soon -- fully and entirely -- it may increase until it begins to pull random passing or nearby objects (and people) into it. eventually it will refuse to remain within the confines of these four walls and will burst from the room, taking the house -- and ( Read more... )