it was just like that

this afternoon i was hanging out with kate and owen. owen is a misplaced beatnik; there's nothing else to say about him. kate, she is kind of funny; she has orangish hair that is kind of frizz-curly with side bangs. she looks really nineties. and she wears terribly red …

love and stasis

the first time: green-flank hose spilling water out of dead-gold mouth as you held it out to my thirsty mouth, and your boy-mouth touching mine before the cold-headache of the hose-water left me. i never knew how to react to you. twelve or twenty, i don't know how to …

leaping back

I
Keep you hid among the spices in the cupboard
Cardamom, Turmeric, Sorceric, Cinnamon, Thyme;
your name in code in the tattoos on my arm and shoulder-blade
simmers with spice-flavoured milk-drinks in my mouth 8AM; the coffee smells
are wasting over me and Peter …

bob dylan

After everything else in the world passes away, this fact will still remain: Bob Dylan is brilliant. The best poet of all.

"The tragic figure!" her sister did shout,
"Leave her alone, God damn you, get out!"
And I in my armor, turning about
And nailing her to the …

mere anarchy, baby

griffon lurked in the shadowy part of the room, straddling a wrong-way-round chair. his fingers ratcheted out bloodless noises- tap. tap. tap.- on the grunge and grey of the brickwork like metal. i lay defiantly in the pale watery light coming in through the window …

Choice; #3

they want you to be jealous. they've been building these superior buildings for thirteen years, women stalking over the construction sites in black heels, rich sons hanging out in the parking lot with their shiny cars, calm businesslike men with clipboards overseeing. …

ambient/electronica

It's been, I would say, five or six months since the absolute last petering out of my ambient/electronica phase.

It is time to start listening again. I'm starting with 3DarkHours; who knows where it will go?

I am excited to get back into ambient and electronica …

heavy hands: toronto, april 2nd.

we woke up this morning feeling
bold and bright, though I can't quite get over the
longing to see something immense. I can't quite
reconcile myself to
buying a few records, and
holding your heavy hand as we walk back home.

and the ground is stirred and thick …

suburban dryad

okay, you know that taste that sometimes comes with the heat in the car? that taste and the way your lips slowly dry out and crack open, and your lungs get fuzzy and your body is tied down with twine? i feel like that.my lips cracking open and dropping out secrets i …

song #9- certain grand and glorious delusions

i met a banjoist, fourteen years old, claimed he could see my soul
and he took great pride in the songs that he wrote from all of the secrets he stole
i met a fabulous liar, lay on his lawn as he swallowed the fire
he took me for granted, i saw in his face as it …

isaac, 1902

the way he made me feel, it was dusky and red-throated like a missing bird in an ebony tree. i could think of him differently, if i let myself, think of him whole and mine. but i don't let myself.

some late-summer monday afternoons when we were too busy to keep still …

fashion question:

why don't we wear aprons
as fashion items
instead of just useful bits of fabric
since they are clearly awesome?

je suis in an apron i sewed when i was a kid. i wonder what would happen if i wore it places.

"This sky where we live is no place to lose your wings so love, love, love."

for some reason, there are thousands of people living in cities across the world who think subway tunnels are rabbit holes; they look at them and photograph them and think there might be a wonderland down such a dark arched place. but then they get off and stalk back up …

childish and ghostly at nineteen

my mind has/all sorts of nuances,
most of which I haven't begun to unearth
but I will say that things were easier when I was 12,
without this unshakable notion of Desire. At night,
among lilies and among dead beeches, I write a
song with more words than I can fit …

excerpt from 'the bell jar'

As we sat back to back on our separate sides of the bed fumbling with our shoes in the horrid cheerful white light of the bed lamp, I sensed Constantin turn round. "Is your hair always like that?"
"Like what?"
He didn't answer, but reached over and put his hand at the …

my heart skips

i confess: i have a large crush on craig from cubistliterature.

but it's.. well, it's something, probably negative. because not only is he a drunken knitting student who lives in brooklyn.... and a boy feminist... and most of what he says worries me... but also, he …

wrist writing

all week the phrase 'i think you should go' has been running through my head with blue hightops and untied laces.

i can't figure out what it means; who should go?

so i'm writing it down on my wrist until one of three things happens:
1) i stop thinking about …

the heaton to my abbot

i like to imagine that our story is just like heaton and abbot's, but i guess we're both too small.

you're not running your second successful band, but i like to sit in the garage and listen to you and the boys writing imperfect sonnets on saturday afternoons. and i …

[this is not a complaint]

people never seem to notice that the way they see me isn't the way i see myself.

he's been writing stories about me, although just now we're pretending that he's not. the trouble is, i've been writing stories about me, too, and the me in his stories doesn't match …

i can't sleep, ian curtis

i don't want to worry you, but i haven't been sleeping. my fingers and eyelids are cotton-wool; burning sand runs across my lips, and it's 2:48 now, and i had to wake you. it's 2:49, and don't you ever feel like the world is just insane?

i have an idea. get up, …