December 2010
40 posts
3 tags
caught out
spiders lost in their webs. machines, homunculi, spirited dolls bludgeoning their sleeping masters. nations no more by their own great hands.
…
when the world ends only one thing will remain: the bitter-sweet taste of irony, lingering like a spilt drink.
2 tags
the man who always had the time
The old man with the sinking brow stood alone in the old, darkened chamber that night. Alone, as usual.
The barren ceilings croaked under the shadows of spiders, and the subtle rustlings of smaller insects still stirred the shredded curtains. But they still hung; frozen in the density of the air, perhaps.
The tired room’s tired walls shed silent tears, in random bursts, in streams of dust,...
4 tags
For Christmas, 2010...
…I’d like to turn into a cat, and then never have to worry about the organisation of a merry Christmas ever again.
Regardless, I wish all of you who celebrate the day the merriest of Christmases, and the happiest of new years.
- Joe
4 tags
two travellers talk about travelling in a petrol...
“To travel forever?” the young boy asked, curiously.
The man in the hat, leaning against the dirt-licked walls of the white-washed petrol station, laughed. “Not forever, kid,” he said. “Not forever.” He lit another cigarette.
The young boy frowned. “Then what do you mean, your journey doesn’t have an end?”
“Exactly that,” the...
3 tags
in the luthier's workshop
Frost lingered in the breeze. A terrible mist choked the windows of the luthier’s workshop.
“It’s a delicate craft,” the female luthier said to her student, “making violins out of cold, dead entrails. I don’t claim that it’s an easy feat to make them dance to Vivaldi, but we do it, and we do it well. Our creations, our benign animations, dutifully repay...
2 tags
an irregular tide
“His curtains could never shut at night,” the old man said. “The galaxy, and its shimmering acolytes, would always seep through the sleepers’ silence, winding its corners like a prepared poison. An unnatural penetration, an obscene violation. Their astral boots, stamping and rumbling like a herd of frightened elephants, forced his eyes wide awake with a searing intensity. A...
2 tags
“What we seek is some kind of compensation for what we put up with.”
– Haruki Murakami, Dance, Dance, Dance
(via popcornbutterfly)
4 tags
a quiet leviathan
“So you’re lost?” asked the man with the guitar. He was slumped against the store-front wall, casually strumming out chords as if he had nowhere better to be, whilst men and women, in suits, ties and black and yellow cabs, ebbed past in a rushing current of urban clichés. They rarely tipped him. His cap was empty.
The teenage boy shrugged. “Lost and lonely, I guess.”
The man with the guitar...
5 tags
to whom it may concern...
The boy stubbed out his cigarette and lit another. After rolling it between his fingers, he began.
“To whom it may concern,” he wrote.
“This Christmas I would like two things. In fact, just one thing, for the two become one, in a process as beautiful as the subtle alchemy which occurs behind closed doors.”
The boy paused. “This Christmas, I would like to become a...
runningwinded asked: Wow, I just cried. Twice. You have a serious way with words. I'm stunned. I really just want to print out every single poem you've ever written and pour over them in dim light over a cup of coffee until my eyes force themselves to close. And to wake up over your words, and honor, really.
I'm going to stop talking now.
I'm going to stop talking now.
2 tags
jelly fish
I spent my younger summers striving to work out whether jellyfish are hollow or not
and I guess in some ways I never left them behind
for sometimes when I turn around that same old tale is there gliding on the shores & dancing on the waves like a swan or a ballerina or a prepared weapon
and I think that the difference now is that I have both the vocabulary and the maturity to tell it to...
2 tags
Dreamworld, Edgar Allan Poe
By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule- From a wild clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE- out of TIME. Bottomless vales and boundless floods, And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods, With forms that no man can discover For the tears that drip all...
“All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning.”
– Albert Camus (via libraryland)
Shadows
“I wish I could be a shadow,” the boy said.
His father, whose face was scarred by tiredness, whose voice flailed as his shoulders sighed, replied, “some day son, some day.”
1 tag
on looking down
a response to something someone else posted…
the realm of Anguish is an insipid place where banality wreaths in banana bunches and sights refract off dim-lit shores
yet many claim experience as a type of expedience? ( for “to penerate the eidolic is to liberate the frolic”
… or so they claim and perhaps believe…)
for what can pretending to have a smaller shadow...
...Imagine a Puddle →
the-great-extinguisher:
“… imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, ‘This is an interesting world I find myself in - an interesting hole I find myself in - fits me rather neatly, doesn’t it? In fact it fits me staggeringly well, must have been made to have me in it!’ This is such a powerful idea that as the sun rises in the sky and the air heats up and as, gradually, the puddle...
3 tags
sunset in the east
edited, 28th December
“The elephants of Japan vanished during World War Two, you know,” said the man in the green jacket.
“Really?” the student responded, as he watched the elephants roam their vast confinements of the San Franciscan zoo.
“Yeah, really,” he said. “Apparently they were considered a major threat to public safety, or something, so the government had...
2 tags
"I want to make a poem of my life"
- Mishima
4 tags
alchemy revisited
it’d be refreshing to preach alchemy once more, but I just can’t, for a violent disgust has engulfed my (prior) deference to such matters.
it’s been choked into oblivion, mauled by a sneaking boa and kindly liberated by a fucking bear ( of its limbs and other brittler amigos.)
the illusions of generations now lie(s),(:) halved, scattered across arctic, once golden (*Au now)...
beautifulyoung asked: Is 'Life's to Short...' one of your own because it's amazing!
"Life's too short..."
“… to lull about on your backside like a reluctant boulder.”
The Homeless Man didn’t respond. I doubt he was aware that I was even speaking to him. Maybe he was just simply too engaged with the rhythms of the underworld to hear anything else.
Someone was playing The Girl from Ipanema on a saxophone down the line, though I couldn’t see who. I guess it’s true,...
2 tags
Murakami: Sometimes fate is like a small...
Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of...
“You’re all geniuses, and you’re all beautiful. You don’t need anyone to tell you...”
– John Lennon (via iquitelikethebeatles)
2 tags
here there be serpents: man of peace →
yossarianhunter:
he dropped out of pre-med to join Nixon’s great folly it wasn’t that he wanted to go but his best friend’s number was up and he didn’t want him to go alone his third day in the jungle his c.o. ordered him to shoot a civilian a kid about seven years old he denied the order at first then decided to shoot rather than get shot or killed by the civilian’s hidden grenade...
my faith, like a hood ornament, shines
yossarianhunter:
I believe in miracles & movie stars, don’t you? the first route maps over under & around whatever routine madness propels the coming today , the second present ready accessible fictions each time (every time) the miracles happen to fail. swing low, sweet Cadillac, come on down & give this dog a bone.
