|
|
|
July 17th, 2006
06:09 pm
I blink my eyes. The sun has come in the room, uninvited. Should have closed the blinds.
Mmmm...it is warm though. Good God, how early is it...5:30!
Up early again. What to do? Lay in bed? The sun's warm. I could do something. But what. Breakfast? I *am* hungry.
I wonder if the paper's delivered yet. Yesterday it wasn't until later. It *was* Sunday though. I guess there are more subscribers on Sunday, the papers are heavier, laden with crap adverts. I stripped them out and a quarter of the paper was left.
Wow. Something's bad in the fridge. What's that smell...it's cheesy. Could be the greenery. That brown, smelly mess I got in the mini during college--I've always sworn it was the opened spinach and lettuce we kept in there. Wiped it up one evening, back the next morning. Bizarre.
The carrot's good. Crunchy, orange. Croange. Oranchy. Crunge. Crunche. Cruncange orchy orangchy
Yogart too. Good stuff.
Kind of windy this morning. The patch of grass is a bit wet, hasn't warmed up. The trees are hypnotizing in their ethereal sway. Just kind of...moving. Yeah, there's the paper.
Ms. Norase's door. Solid, brown. Black handle. Worn and knotted wood. Seems more knotted than the door across. Someone new there, haven't met. The other doors too, they're all lighter, more welcoming. But Ms. Norase's door sucks my vision in. Hypnotizing like the trees. Dark and tortured. Still alive, like the trees. Dead, cold, but a sense of vibration.
Chilling vibration. Like the winters in Idaho. God. Idaho. No, both in the same thought. That damn...
The paper plops nicely on Ms. Norase's door-mat and Harkami walks back into his apartment.
I've been up all night. I really really should get to sleep. Meaningless wandering online. Meaningless? No. No...hmm. A metaphor for life. An endless search, new information, varying quality; lots of crap, awesome communities, crappy ones. Makes sense. People put stuff online. People are people. People
Sleep! Wow. All night again. Hunched over the desk reading these questions. Clicking on links. Really really tracked time none at all. Yeah, 5:39. The bed's still messy from yesterday. I don't even have a job.
The sound at the door. Every Monday. I *do* usually sleep right now, but every Monday I've been up in the morning there's a human at the other side of the door. Doing who knows what. No peep-hole in the door, it's too beautiful. It hurt to even put the knob in.
But without the knob, how to open the door? How to secure it? It'd be like a window or...
And there's always a paper. Never any other day. Always Monday. I read online, so I don't subscribe to a print. But there's one every Monday. Start of the week? The papers pile up outside or something, rarely see them. Yeah, there they are now. But who? WHY?!
Sleep...
|
April 14th, 2006
12:12 am - Origins
"draggedaway" comes from "She Burned Out Their Eyes" by the Apparitions. It is a story of the end times. A cataclysmic change in all things. The Angel of Mercy brings this destruction. Humans are rendered blind as their eyes were burned out. Animals migrate. Earthquakes ransack the land. Everything heats up. She drags them away, to a better place—while they kick and scream.
Reminds me of Plato's cave allegory.
My userpic comes from Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips. I first listened to the Flaming Lips with their Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots cd. One thing that struck me about the cd was the album art—I liked it a lot! Turns out Wayne Coyne painted it.
At War with the Mystics continutes the album art by Wayne. The image I used:
Current Location: dorm room
Current Music: "It's Summertime" by The Flaming Lips
|
|
|
|
|
|
LiveJournal.com |
