By Violence, Some Things Together

May 11, 2006 10:50

These are the songs I have tried not to sing, the things I have failed to say. I lay awake some nights, composing letters that I will never set to type. Constantly revised, they flutter at the back of my mind, filing themselves away the moment dreams melt into deep sleep ( Read more... )

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Comments 5

wodenseye May 13 2006, 18:17:44 UTC
I would never presume to give you advice, but as your new, quasi-anonymous electronic friend, I must say--please write books some day. The world is more or less depending on it.

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nawimjustaworm May 15 2006, 19:33:12 UTC
oh man, thanks. i love quasi-anonymous e-friends! i would have to say the same to you, too, though. write a book! why not, right?

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anonymous May 18 2006, 05:04:11 UTC
A randomizer has earned you the empathy of a fellow threader of words. Though mine go on far more different tracks, revolving around similar and dissimilar truths, holding a perspective leading to the same thing that changes everything. I know how to assemble an identity from bits and parts of things that are from but not myself, and how to find more general things which my identity is build upon, to pretend I am less or more defined than I am and thus manipulate both image and language.

I may return for the sake of other late-night mongerings composed of empty letters and unfinished work.

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nawimjustaworm May 18 2006, 16:32:51 UTC
sounds good (why anonymous?)

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marithyn May 19 2006, 20:57:39 UTC
LJ wasn't working and my journal is filled with the daily mongerings of little artistic or worthy of prose, being a mere teen whose self-consciousness takes a sometimes-heavy toll. It brings me to guard what is worthy with the private eye and or hold it in one of several dozen notebooks and scraps that litter my room.

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