You were the one who played safe, who kept cool, who made peace instead of war.
—
She sings the old songs, though there is no-one there to sing along.
Wanted: Introverted Alter Ego
Wanted: Introverted Alter ego, must be a shy male, 20’s of average height, dashingly attractive. Wry, caustic sense of humor and love of heavy metal a strong plus.
Audio: Adiemus – Adiemus
Image/Want Ads
Time. No matter what the time, the town has its players. The red autumn sun fades violet, its path followed by trails of starlight — books, used or old, are bought and sold, read and remembered. Will travel to bid on larger libraries.
14 Pieces of Music, 14 Lines of Text
1. Dockwood underfoot, skin bearing jeweled splinters under ocean spray
2. Walking in metallic coiled space under life’s dictate.
3. Simply, I stand awash in life’s bittersweet brightness
4. Borne under aged framing, stretching to show yourself through gauzed nylon.
5. Attempt to reconcile, the old and new; the familiar and the strange; the absurd and the appropriate, that is living in the world.
6. Nature’s lively bouncing, flitting over a veneer of brutal evolution.
7. Awestricken, gazing upon the world as if on its first day, though the history of a people is far from free.
8. When the beating of wheels against track under mourning dissonant time.
9. Ear to thorax, hearing the sounds from a world to which we are outside, I glimpse the essence of life and its living. (img by Troyek)
10. Repeat the slightly similar repeat again straining against forms immemorial and straight culturality to express
11. Floating metal breaths over rolling hills.
12. Celebrate life’s beauty without forgetting its melanchollies
13. Unabashedly, we look into the furnaces that forged this people from the ore of time in the bowels of the earth, in all our glorious good and hideous evil.
14. Emerging, disassociating, yet warmly familiar and recalcitrant, relaxed under one’s own weight.
The Wall of Atwater Hall B: Perspectives
The wall.
Lost son in war: The wall stood before me like an insurmountable obelisk, crafted of carelessly hewn colorless stones. The building itself sits in the ground like a mammouth ship, its smokestacks belching sulfur from the furnaces below. The uniformity is morbid. Like rows of pine boxes.
Just fell in love: Each stone fits into the next, lovingly cradling its shape, conforming to its contours. The wall is endless, we see no beginning or end. Only beauty.
Bored: The wall is grey. Like the world. The stones were cut by some poor soul who spent all his living hours slaving over a pile of rocks, probably sitting in an excavator or something. Then some other guy had to stack them up. Yeah. The wall has some windows, but they’re kind of ugly. Who designs a wall like this anyways? Wait, no, who builds a wall like this?!
Frightened: The wall stood before me, blocking my only route of escape. I stared up at the innumerable hewn stones, each fitting impossibly into the next, leaving not even a ledge on which to grasp.
In Class Incoherence – 3/12 9:08pm
I think this was the result of that exercise where we had to choose famous people, and then people close to us… and write a story with them both. Written in-class on 3/7. The handwriting contains lots of information lost in the blog-version, but just use your imagination… Perhaps I’ll do some scanning later… (hah)
Yeah… don’t ask 🙂
Blah Blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blahd buddha bagabout a borta aorta abort aortasseacov(?) blah blah Michaela is my sista she is small. But not small and she is like Ludvig von Bismark because she unified Germany like the great Teutonic rocker we know her to be. Her feats are famous — I hear and know all about them. I read the symbols on the wall. Yet do I know her? who was that Wilhelm, or Ludvig — Blah Blah (dissolves into gibberish)
Yeah…