One of those terrible melancholy boys again.
he is probally from sweden. he is, oh.
i don't know what i'm doing here,
neither.
he said he would take me to a tropical paradise.
now i'm not so sure.
i work in a diner, the worst kind, you know.
she is so godammn cute,
like a creampuff, which i dislike
i cannot escape these sweet songs
all the sad boys have love to burn.
i see a place that looks like holidays
now i remember
your face shutting
we rest on a futuristic plane
hear a moth hitting the wall
that is inside the planetarium
the only place i can hide
james dean doesn't move his mouth
Monday, December 24, 2007
i liked the coat you wore the day before yesterday
It is strange how we exist in these parallel ways.
Plastic bags rolling like spit roasts in the wind.
An American Beauty moment on the way home.
Away from you for centuries i close my eyes and see a pack of wolves,
a J.H Lynch of you and me,
lanterns light your face
equations revolve around our heads
trying to
there is no small town where everyone knows us.
don't want to be known,
by anyone
you play a song and i stay silent,
more silence, more silence
that band ,
that band,
don't like them no more,
they cut their hair too short.
Plastic bags rolling like spit roasts in the wind.
An American Beauty moment on the way home.
Away from you for centuries i close my eyes and see a pack of wolves,
a J.H Lynch of you and me,
lanterns light your face
equations revolve around our heads
trying to
there is no small town where everyone knows us.
don't want to be known,
by anyone
you play a song and i stay silent,
more silence, more silence
that band ,
that band,
don't like them no more,
they cut their hair too short.
everything i owned forever
"You're an unforgettable retard." she muttered under her breath. Every morning the boy strolled in, banged his fist on the counter and demanded some goddamn pancakes. "I'm just going to cut up your newspaper. Don't cry sweetheart." He declared. She just blinked and filled his cup.
"C'mere," he raised his slow bony finger to beckon her. "I wanna tell you a secret." Feet dragging she forced herself over to the old man. "I only dream in black and white. Always have, always will." As he spat on th ground she didn't even flinch.
"C'mere," he raised his slow bony finger to beckon her. "I wanna tell you a secret." Feet dragging she forced herself over to the old man. "I only dream in black and white. Always have, always will." As he spat on th ground she didn't even flinch.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
what are you like
Debbie Harry riding a Polar Bear
The notion of being lost at sea and ending up washed ashore in a fictional eastern country.
Roxy music album covers
Heart shaped crystals
Wearing cat ears
The death metal dance scene in Wild at Heart.
Balkan Erotica
Braile Porn
Filter coffee in polystyrene cups
Slot Machines
Westerns
Hand coloured black and white photographs
Mummies (the Mummies)
Wolf whistling thirties revival boys
Japanese street kids
Barbarella
Macho Italian Boys
Lucid dreaming
Pushy cheerleading mothers
Hand delivered notes
Old man who put their face in their hands with mock despair
Language barriers
The girl who dresses up as snow white at Disney land
People who dedicate their live to science
Doctor Zhivago
Rotting teeth
Bleeding noses
The name Thurston
The “fool’s gold” video
Ariel poems and mermaid
Antoine Doniel
Miranda July
Chromatic Diets
Crocheted sparkly blankets
“Tina”
Marbled wife beaters
Porcelain dogs
Novelty Christmas Trees
M.I.A
The name Dawn
The notion of being lost at sea and ending up washed ashore in a fictional eastern country.
Roxy music album covers
Heart shaped crystals
Wearing cat ears
The death metal dance scene in Wild at Heart.
Balkan Erotica
Braile Porn
Filter coffee in polystyrene cups
Slot Machines
Westerns
Hand coloured black and white photographs
Mummies (the Mummies)
Wolf whistling thirties revival boys
Japanese street kids
Barbarella
Macho Italian Boys
Lucid dreaming
Pushy cheerleading mothers
Hand delivered notes
Old man who put their face in their hands with mock despair
Language barriers
The girl who dresses up as snow white at Disney land
People who dedicate their live to science
Doctor Zhivago
Rotting teeth
Bleeding noses
The name Thurston
The “fool’s gold” video
Ariel poems and mermaid
Antoine Doniel
Miranda July
Chromatic Diets
Crocheted sparkly blankets
“Tina”
Marbled wife beaters
Porcelain dogs
Novelty Christmas Trees
M.I.A
The name Dawn
There were things completely unspeakable between the two of them.
Words unfolding inside words,
Fantastic visions swirled around her head, so surreal and exact she could not fathom how to transmit them to reality.
It just needed to happen.
They kissed and she pulled a hair from her mouth.
Her younger brother built a castle out of candy.
They sat inside it in her dreams and kissed in-between mouthfuls.
She was too well dressed to be in the waiting room, too cool to be sick.
She went through the atmosphere and into space which was a vast ocean.
He called her a Hitchcockian blonde and himself a regular Jimmy stewart, with a grey suit and smooth voice.
As their eyes meet lines filled her head. You open you mouth as wide as a cat. Sylvia said.
I went delirious and back again, banck to my clean cut slate
My mind was a blobby baby dribbling and spewing
But now a wise old woman nodding and blinking
I see
History without being there
Conjured up, through strange stragled pieces of second accounts
You know I don’t really like it, but someone will,
Going to her house for five in seven
I talked to his brother for hours and hours
Chasing the feeling that I meant to have
I could hear him saying her name in the mirror
Words unfolding inside words,
Fantastic visions swirled around her head, so surreal and exact she could not fathom how to transmit them to reality.
It just needed to happen.
They kissed and she pulled a hair from her mouth.
Her younger brother built a castle out of candy.
They sat inside it in her dreams and kissed in-between mouthfuls.
She was too well dressed to be in the waiting room, too cool to be sick.
She went through the atmosphere and into space which was a vast ocean.
He called her a Hitchcockian blonde and himself a regular Jimmy stewart, with a grey suit and smooth voice.
As their eyes meet lines filled her head. You open you mouth as wide as a cat. Sylvia said.
I went delirious and back again, banck to my clean cut slate
My mind was a blobby baby dribbling and spewing
But now a wise old woman nodding and blinking
I see
History without being there
Conjured up, through strange stragled pieces of second accounts
You know I don’t really like it, but someone will,
Going to her house for five in seven
I talked to his brother for hours and hours
Chasing the feeling that I meant to have
I could hear him saying her name in the mirror
I've pictured you in coffins. My baby in a coffin.
I hope you don't think i'm too sentimental. Remember i'm not terribly serious. Not terribly.
from here to eternity
thats where you take me.
Sometimes i get an undefinable urge to send you a letter by owl to roam the streets at night. There is glitter on my gums.
Sometimes i get an undefinable urge to send you a letter by owl to roam the streets at night. There is glitter on my gums.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
the tea is fine
thank god for that
its a lot of pressure on me you know
what?
the tea
blink
doctor who is on
its a lot of pressure on me you know
what?
the tea
blink
doctor who is on
Sunday, September 23, 2007
story
Everytime a boy gets a haircut it hurts my ears. I keep staring at the wall and getting a tingling sensation in my feet which sets off a pulling in my chest. We lie on the floor of a drafty museum. The situation is like a luke warm cup of tea. Even coffee would be more exciting. I open my mouth and close it, watching you like a wolf watches her cubs.
The moment has passed from when I could have said something profound so I just throw the blanket over our heads to generate some kind of lumpy excitement. I keep having horrific visions in my head of what will happen when I leave this haven.
Concrete encompasses my whole body an hour later as I lose balance on the corner. My purse goes into a rain-addled drain. I try to make the best of the situation but your hand is not there to help me up.
Your apartment is like an ice cave and all your books are new editions with badly designed covers. I try to get some white paper and sellotape to cover them up with but you grab my hand.
Wiping blood from my brow you make a terrible joke and I pretend not to hear. I cough and it echoes like we are in wembley stadium. Pulling me close you touch my lips with yours. I close my eyes and think about the crusades. I cannot help the visions of historical events I was not present at when I kiss you.
You have an historic kiss.
Water goes in but I cannot drink anymore. It starts to swish around in my stomach when I walk. You put your ear down there to find out what is going on, but no one can really tell.
I remember the woman with the plastic face I saw earlier. She was walking too fast and had a shawl on. After I saw her I stole a bag of jellybeans and sat in the park.
The moment has passed from when I could have said something profound so I just throw the blanket over our heads to generate some kind of lumpy excitement. I keep having horrific visions in my head of what will happen when I leave this haven.
Concrete encompasses my whole body an hour later as I lose balance on the corner. My purse goes into a rain-addled drain. I try to make the best of the situation but your hand is not there to help me up.
Your apartment is like an ice cave and all your books are new editions with badly designed covers. I try to get some white paper and sellotape to cover them up with but you grab my hand.
Wiping blood from my brow you make a terrible joke and I pretend not to hear. I cough and it echoes like we are in wembley stadium. Pulling me close you touch my lips with yours. I close my eyes and think about the crusades. I cannot help the visions of historical events I was not present at when I kiss you.
You have an historic kiss.
Water goes in but I cannot drink anymore. It starts to swish around in my stomach when I walk. You put your ear down there to find out what is going on, but no one can really tell.
I remember the woman with the plastic face I saw earlier. She was walking too fast and had a shawl on. After I saw her I stole a bag of jellybeans and sat in the park.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
And he just starts ripping everything to pieces and putting them together again and i fall to my knees, but not literally, like being kissed and thinking about that thing where the kiss is supposed to be so good that your leg flicks up but its too stupid to actually to, you just think to yourself i guess this could be a leg flick kiss.
Because right now my sticky mind is getting this article stuck in it.
Am i drowning in references? here is another:
"Why do we spent so much time qouting other people? When will we start quoting ourselves."
I don't like using this as a reference it seems strange, that is the thing about his writing is that it feels like a causal conversation instead of the so full they are empty words of like say situationist theory.
Because right now my sticky mind is getting this article stuck in it.
Am i drowning in references? here is another:
"Why do we spent so much time qouting other people? When will we start quoting ourselves."
I don't like using this as a reference it seems strange, that is the thing about his writing is that it feels like a causal conversation instead of the so full they are empty words of like say situationist theory.
meat for your stew
How do you find your own niche when you mind is like jelly that things just take over. When i read novels with a good first person narrative i end up thinking in the characters language like when i read godamn catcher in the rye, holden took over my brain. So when you are attempting to write this thing everything comes from these things your reading and you become a little charctriture of the text you were in. So my mind is so fucking sticky i can't separate myself from other peoples words sometimes and i guess i'm a relatively impressionable 19 year old that is searching for something to grab onto.
i' glad i haven't grabbed onto modernism as some kind of mind-blowing religion but lets not get into that right now.
It's like you do have to write this kind of stuff in a blog in in an email because it feels like all t he inbetween bits that should be making up my manifesto, like the writing does not seem important or cohesive enough to me to put in a manifesto but it feels like the meat that is in the whole stew of it.
i' glad i haven't grabbed onto modernism as some kind of mind-blowing religion but lets not get into that right now.
It's like you do have to write this kind of stuff in a blog in in an email because it feels like all t he inbetween bits that should be making up my manifesto, like the writing does not seem important or cohesive enough to me to put in a manifesto but it feels like the meat that is in the whole stew of it.
you'll probally hate this...but
When you are writing something that has these so called rules attached to it. Do you feel like you can only truly write it in a certain place in a certain frame of mind? Like this seems stupid but the idea of this thing this body of words that will go through you as having its own personality which may be shaped by the way you are literally constructing it. Try writing a poem in a grimy dim internet cafe with a guy looking up porn next to you. This probably seems really obvious but its not so much the whole geography of it all i'm thinking about but more the context and rules that the body of writing builds up around itself before you even write it, or maybe its the lack of rules that makes it difficult.
im·plic·it
[im-plis-it] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
ex·plic·it [ik-splis-it] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
im·plic·it
[im-plis-it] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –adjective
| 1. | implied, rather than expressly stated: implicit agreement. |
| 2. | unquestioning or unreserved; absolute: implicit trust; implicit obedience; implicit confidence. |
| 3. | potentially contained (usually fol. by in): to bring out the drama implicit in the occasion. |
| 4. | Mathematics. (of a function) having the dependent variable not explicitly expressed in terms of the independent variables, as x2 + y2 = 1. Compare explicit (def. 5). |
| 5. | Obsolete. entangled. |
ex·plic·it
[ik-splis-it] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –adjective
| 1. | fully and clearly expressed or demonstrated; leaving nothing merely implied; unequivocal: explicit instructions; an explicit act of violence; explicit language. |
| 2. | clearly developed or formulated: explicit knowledge; explicit belief. |
| 3. | definite and unreserved in expression; outspoken: He was quite explicit as to what he expected us to do for him. |
| 4. | described or shown in realistic detail: explicit sexual scenes. |
| 5. | having sexual acts or nudity clearly depicted: explicit movies; explicit books. |
| 6. | Mathematics. (of a function) having the dependent variable expressed directly in terms of the independent variables, as y = 3x + 4. Compare implicit (def. 4). |
So i read that this was the dominant model for understanding literature. but it is also the way my class dealt with the project :write your own manifesto. It was kind of like expecting a bunch of ten year olds to write the script for a porn movie.
The more i think about it the more i kind of hate mine. Just because even though it drips with irony its still just kind of empty words. The whole critique i just felt like sinking into the couch through indifference the manifesto is having an anti-effect, its fucking grand expectations are wearing away and just making me want to dumb everything down a bit. You know i don't really know if this is a good ideas or not but thats just it, its not about having a good idea or being right, there is no right. It pisses me off this whole right, good, talented thing. Exhausting yourself from trying to be so GOOD but what is this good you are trying to get too, is it your good or everyone else's? I was thinking today sometimes it is difficult to differentiate what you or people actually like and what they think they should like or do or whatever.
In this reading we got it says "The idea of winging it is very DDD" which is like sometimes when i feel like i'm getting ahead of myself but being told its good to be ahead of yourself. This winging state can be the best way to be, not in the exhausted chase, like just pretend your well read and awesome. This could be beneficial in your approach to work. Especially if you get sideffects from drugs just by reading the sideffects even if they don't really exsist. You know what that things called. Its very white noise. God. had to reference that because thats all i can think of when they go into the airbourne toxic event and hear the symptoms on the radio. I get that, so if i read about the side effects of design i'll think i have them too.
Also its like DDD has become like its description of Zeta-Jones. Maybe i'm winging it with this whole DDD thing but i feel as if its this lingering mystic sense. Its like it has become a style in itself, you can make a converstaion very DDD and of course a piece of writing, can you make design itself very DDD? I guess its odd because they are taking about everything inbetween actual designed objects. Should i even be talking about this, i'm winging it right now with this whole thing. Making observations on something maybe i don't even grasp and it is very comical or confusing to someone who has been around the block.
i love that expression.
The more i think about it the more i kind of hate mine. Just because even though it drips with irony its still just kind of empty words. The whole critique i just felt like sinking into the couch through indifference the manifesto is having an anti-effect, its fucking grand expectations are wearing away and just making me want to dumb everything down a bit. You know i don't really know if this is a good ideas or not but thats just it, its not about having a good idea or being right, there is no right. It pisses me off this whole right, good, talented thing. Exhausting yourself from trying to be so GOOD but what is this good you are trying to get too, is it your good or everyone else's? I was thinking today sometimes it is difficult to differentiate what you or people actually like and what they think they should like or do or whatever.
In this reading we got it says "The idea of winging it is very DDD" which is like sometimes when i feel like i'm getting ahead of myself but being told its good to be ahead of yourself. This winging state can be the best way to be, not in the exhausted chase, like just pretend your well read and awesome. This could be beneficial in your approach to work. Especially if you get sideffects from drugs just by reading the sideffects even if they don't really exsist. You know what that things called. Its very white noise. God. had to reference that because thats all i can think of when they go into the airbourne toxic event and hear the symptoms on the radio. I get that, so if i read about the side effects of design i'll think i have them too.
Also its like DDD has become like its description of Zeta-Jones. Maybe i'm winging it with this whole DDD thing but i feel as if its this lingering mystic sense. Its like it has become a style in itself, you can make a converstaion very DDD and of course a piece of writing, can you make design itself very DDD? I guess its odd because they are taking about everything inbetween actual designed objects. Should i even be talking about this, i'm winging it right now with this whole thing. Making observations on something maybe i don't even grasp and it is very comical or confusing to someone who has been around the block.
i love that expression.
hold hands and it will happen anyway
lately but maybe always i have been slightly obsessed with ambiguous groupings of words that sound nonchalant or impassioned, i don't know i guess the best examples are lyrics or song titles and you always know when you see one you like. What is interesting it that they are always referencing something and they are enticing you to read the smaller text below them so what makes you choose one over the other. and this whole thing kind of came from the fact that there is a place to put titles for each blog entry. Now it seems that through a series of influential texts i am bound by writing under headings and the pursuit of finding perfect headings that are witty and referential and fucking relevant.
sometimes you just want to
stick glitter to your lips and get the fuck out of here. She thinks in these ridiculous colours and thinks that colourblindness is hot.
I didn't realise I had David Bowie's greatest hits on my itunes. It was just hanging out at the bottom with all this unmarked music that has just accumulated from nowhere.
I didn't realise I had David Bowie's greatest hits on my itunes. It was just hanging out at the bottom with all this unmarked music that has just accumulated from nowhere.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
man
you ate a lot of sausages tonight. Not even hitting the spot. What are you doing tommorow? Do you wanna get coffee tomorrow? Okay, like meet you on Cuba. Like on our lunchbreak or something. I was totally excited when my phone rang. Sounds like I'm really cool. Cooler when i'm waking up. Been to any cool shows lately? Yeah like Punk show. I got some merch. Yeah but i was thinking that i feel like i'm just moving towards this grey area and i've been coming to the conclusion punk doesn't exsist. (Phone conversation overheard)
this font is monospaced.
hope you have a ggod sleep, k like talk to you tomorrow okay bye bye.
hi, what are you doing?
whoa how'd you do that? like you own them? wow!wow! fuck
you guys are pretty much um okay if you insist. How much did you get? Yeah i think so, 21 whoa whhhaat else?
60 bob Dylan 21 Nick Cave, thats creepy
(sleepy quite voice) umm good mmhm
is it?
chin ups
i'm just at school, yep. mm whats happening in Croaita
mhmm yep
she's stopped listening
so have i
i'm not sure what to do with this.
this font is monospaced.
hope you have a ggod sleep, k like talk to you tomorrow okay bye bye.
hi, what are you doing?
whoa how'd you do that? like you own them? wow!wow! fuck
you guys are pretty much um okay if you insist. How much did you get? Yeah i think so, 21 whoa whhhaat else?
60 bob Dylan 21 Nick Cave, thats creepy
(sleepy quite voice) umm good mmhm
is it?
chin ups
i'm just at school, yep. mm whats happening in Croaita
mhmm yep
she's stopped listening
so have i
i'm not sure what to do with this.
Monday, September 17, 2007
didn't think this would ever happen.
There were too many visual diaries in my life so i added another.
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