happiest holidays to all, dear digifolk! i was going to regale you with high school poetry, but i've been unable to find it. in its stead: snippets of ye olde amsterdam journals (04/99). and to all a good night.
painted walls urge them to assert themselves -
RECLAIM YOUR AUTONOMY - and their fingers
twitch and obey: adolescence is named again and again
in the steam of the highest windowpanes.
saw him at the counter and he asked if everything was okay and i said no and he said i thought so and i said i was changing and he said what? and i said my clothes and off i went. now he's not even here to be impressed. and i'm pretty impressive.
1331h thursday 8 april - delifrance on the damrak. met a nice punk from brandeis last night. took a picture of him with jeremy - think i'll blow it up and hang it in the room. bought a lily the size of a baby's head at a flower vendor yesterday - good fun to freak people out and lay around in the silver dress like a dead girl.
[henry rollins] "and anyone who thinks they're above it, like 'i never get depressed!' and you're like god - you're a liar, and you're boring."
and the moon shoulders through clouds in the last row of a miracle
like the man at the back of a sideshow crowd.
2.1: 'And in th'essential vesture of creation / Does tire the ingener.'
- spinning so fast that can't be seen w/naked eye
- you speak of me as yet unformed, and so it is
1340h 4/12 monday. costa, george st. i need to drag myself home like the silly family pet i am.
No comments:
Post a Comment