Showing posts with label Winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winter. Show all posts
8.2.11
5.2.11
4.2.11
other book ideas
1,000 Knots in a Shady Corner.
Knitting serial killer who knits finely crafted noose to hang her victims.
Empty Crime-scene, Flying Cat.
Chinese medicine man curses a college student with a cat that will only fly in her presence. This drives her to kill her dog-loving, cat-hating, roommate.
Room of Single Shoes: Memoirs of Incompetent Hoarder.
Forgetting to retie her shoelaces, Macy would distract herself while searching trash, thrift, and friends closets.
Hunger Hunter: Escapades of a Brunch-only Enthusiast.
Trang gets drunk only Sundays, and sadly can only eat while drunk. This misunderstanding of this endless-mimosa enthusiast gone anorexic get him into trouble with a gang of fat racists.
Legend of the Lint Hunter: The Carpeted Room.
Treating her O.C.D., Doctor Jibran places Delia's in many awkward anxiety-provoking situations. Little did Jibran know of Delia's obsession with possession and what was to come.
Knitting serial killer who knits finely crafted noose to hang her victims.
Empty Crime-scene, Flying Cat.
Chinese medicine man curses a college student with a cat that will only fly in her presence. This drives her to kill her dog-loving, cat-hating, roommate.
Room of Single Shoes: Memoirs of Incompetent Hoarder.
Forgetting to retie her shoelaces, Macy would distract herself while searching trash, thrift, and friends closets.
Hunger Hunter: Escapades of a Brunch-only Enthusiast.
Trang gets drunk only Sundays, and sadly can only eat while drunk. This misunderstanding of this endless-mimosa enthusiast gone anorexic get him into trouble with a gang of fat racists.
Legend of the Lint Hunter: The Carpeted Room.
Treating her O.C.D., Doctor Jibran places Delia's in many awkward anxiety-provoking situations. Little did Jibran know of Delia's obsession with possession and what was to come.
old clothes, winter
It is a small hole,
desire of something new,
the sweater is warm,
billowy arms room for more,
faded fibers still look good.
desire of something new,
the sweater is warm,
billowy arms room for more,
faded fibers still look good.
3.2.11
2.2.11
hmm,yes.
It is strange that, as I become more interested in painting, I find paintings I appreciate less often.
I do not care to examine this. I like painting.
I do not care to examine this. I like painting.
31.1.11
Long term goals of a 2011 sort.
Titre de memoires: 10,000 Sq. Ft. of Cheese.
Travailler: Get to India before their art scene explodes all over U.S.'s upturned face.
Cuisiner: Avacado once a week, not in guac form.
Ecrire: A research paper.
Travailler: Get to India before their art scene explodes all over U.S.'s upturned face.
Cuisiner: Avacado once a week, not in guac form.
Ecrire: A research paper.
29.1.11
Au premiere moment
It sees wandering,
overcast subservience.
Hot winter rain cloud
sprinkle a dram of fearful,
to drink from a pool of now.
overcast subservience.
Hot winter rain cloud
sprinkle a dram of fearful,
to drink from a pool of now.
27.1.11
Difficulties of new.
It is very difficult to maintain a morning routine while moving.
Especially when there are loud old clocks around.
Especially when there are loud old clocks around.
24.1.11
22.1.11
A dormitory
2 beds 8 people, needless to mention every non-flammable surface ashtray. Tic tocking cat clocks juxtaposed by burn phones and a broken flashing lamp. 2 turn-tables faced east for morning meditations on acid-funk-psychedelia turned yoga sutra. "No strung out junkies in this jungle" carvings at each doorway, upon closer examination just the one. Banana peels were so prevalent slapstick comedians would ooze drool upon sight, small bird carcasses littered around on mismatched china doing the same to cats.
Pheasant-ville, tempo-town, a sideways slum, the mocking mutterings of a doorman bouncer provide the insanity distraction for the cracked thou-shall-not-pass. I live in the one room dormitory and I scream when I don't get my way. Gone beyond the trick turning temptation of easier cohabitation and divine cleanliness, I smell the truth, fuck seeing it. So give in to the pretzel sleep sycophants whose feelers feel around you and on you as you count sheep. Counting too often with another's reading-seeing-eating-art light on. When you stretch your tired face in the A.M., lion-like know, you can do the same.
Pheasant-ville, tempo-town, a sideways slum, the mocking mutterings of a doorman bouncer provide the insanity distraction for the cracked thou-shall-not-pass. I live in the one room dormitory and I scream when I don't get my way. Gone beyond the trick turning temptation of easier cohabitation and divine cleanliness, I smell the truth, fuck seeing it. So give in to the pretzel sleep sycophants whose feelers feel around you and on you as you count sheep. Counting too often with another's reading-seeing-eating-art light on. When you stretch your tired face in the A.M., lion-like know, you can do the same.
21.1.11
Why yes, Watson
When I was a young lass, dressed all in skirts and bows I had an especial fondness for french braiding all the sinuous fiber I could get my tiny nails on. Of course, my temple was a constant playing field for this. Oh! and the fondness I had for camp. All the heads in the world to french braid. The fools. Pigtails and curly locks. Blasphemy. Freyja came to my dreams, "Slay the other girls dear child. Their hair reaches far from their bodies, grasping for impurity. It shall steal your thoughts and tie your perfect braiding hands together."
Awakening in a panic, I did not scream. A short gasp with clasped hands was the extent of my outburst. I peered beyond my bunk. A room full of french braids confused me, what was Freyja talking about. I had conquered this land with my sinewy digits. Then it occurred to me, perhaps the other rooms hadn't received my communion. My fingers knotted for my goddess, it was imperative that I redeem myself in the eyes of my lady.
I crept beyond my cell, having received the sign. The creaking of screen doors was my only worry, for I knew my capabilities well. My hair-crossing skills would not disappoint this fine eve. Into the world of the Chickadees I crept, on toes and fingertips, building strength. My head darting left and right, appalled at the sight of frilly unkempt hair.
I crept silently strangling each young girl, only after having taken care of the counselor who slept nearest the door. They would not have willingly let me twist their twine-like locks. I dragged their pale pink flannel covered corpse to the middle of the room. Sitting crossed-legged I began my task, slowly braiding each girls head to the girl next to her. My 9 headed french-braid, too long had such perfection desired to be freed from the beyond.
Freyja smiled upon me and my temple of 9 year old blonds.
Awakening in a panic, I did not scream. A short gasp with clasped hands was the extent of my outburst. I peered beyond my bunk. A room full of french braids confused me, what was Freyja talking about. I had conquered this land with my sinewy digits. Then it occurred to me, perhaps the other rooms hadn't received my communion. My fingers knotted for my goddess, it was imperative that I redeem myself in the eyes of my lady.
I crept beyond my cell, having received the sign. The creaking of screen doors was my only worry, for I knew my capabilities well. My hair-crossing skills would not disappoint this fine eve. Into the world of the Chickadees I crept, on toes and fingertips, building strength. My head darting left and right, appalled at the sight of frilly unkempt hair.
I crept silently strangling each young girl, only after having taken care of the counselor who slept nearest the door. They would not have willingly let me twist their twine-like locks. I dragged their pale pink flannel covered corpse to the middle of the room. Sitting crossed-legged I began my task, slowly braiding each girls head to the girl next to her. My 9 headed french-braid, too long had such perfection desired to be freed from the beyond.
Freyja smiled upon me and my temple of 9 year old blonds.
20.1.11
16.1.11
Lamia
In ancient Greek mythology, Lamia (Greek: Λάμια) was a beautiful queen of Libya who became a child-eating daemon. While the word lamia literally means "large shark" in Greek,[1] Aristophanesclaimed her name derived from the Greek word for gullet (λαιμός; laimos), referring to her habit of devouring children.
6.1.11
google image fun
strange that there are three people in that. as i just wrote the below 20 minutes ago. MY CHERRIES!!!
I've picked the cherries that are 1991, 97, and 03,
they've been sitting too long in some fermented liquid.
Rot, pickle, and ooze. Dutiful titles.
Place them on the table bartender. So that I may choose the drink
that drinks their essence.
A lesson, yes they stink.
Three provisions, and
Oh!
how I shall let them last,
these cherries of the past.
Who whilst pickling,
allowed my tickling
like a tied up lad tweaking
gripping for the jesus-green bottle across the room.
9.12.10
Igloos and a cat
Pulling up mountains,
yellow and sticky
the ground, in agony, screeches
scratching towards its' new child.
the sky will glow around it,
and the wind will eat it down
and I will climb, for longer days in colder
vertical worlds.
I turn up and down,
and when the mountain birds fly over
I live, and remember
My Side of the Mountain.
To think of tree life
and the quiet strength of the tree's living
I can quell the pace
of my evolution and my blood.
yellow and sticky
the ground, in agony, screeches
scratching towards its' new child.
the sky will glow around it,
and the wind will eat it down
and I will climb, for longer days in colder
vertical worlds.
I turn up and down,
and when the mountain birds fly over
I live, and remember
My Side of the Mountain.
To think of tree life
and the quiet strength of the tree's living
I can quell the pace
of my evolution and my blood.
12.11.10
Workydooo
Today I will attempt to print 2 of my 3 or 4 colour litho. I can do it! Yes.
Samurai fighting weird headed monster.
Maybe I will finish my woodblock too.
All while failing something else!
Samurai fighting weird headed monster.
Maybe I will finish my woodblock too.
All while failing something else!
7.2.10
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