(Source: chopstickgirl)
*
May
20
Skrillex Reviewed By Cute Kids
My kids are royally fucked, they’re going to turn out just like me.
This is inspiring, maybe once I get my act together, clean my room, sweep up all the pieces of me into some semblance of who I used to be, I’ll write an ekphrasis on it. Right now though I’d just like to kill my mind with a year of silence, it would be wonderful not to think for a little while, or a long while. Maybe I just need to move to where the sun never sets, or I’ll just follow it, day by day, hour by hour, so the sun sets on everyone else but never on me. It’s as if my smile rises and falls with the daylight, and with the moon comes all the thoughts I’ve deferred from my mind all day. The moon does control the tides, I suppose it makes sense that it would control the tides of sorrow as well. I can’t decide which one I like better, my delusional daylight self, all sunshine, laughter and cheekbones, or my nighttime self. Not the nighttime self when I’m around other people, but the one when I’m all by myself, the honest one, the one that isn’t afraid of the truth. I guess I like them both, people need a balance of night and day to survive and I’m not exempt from this general rule.
(Source: nevver)
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Heretics - Andrew Bird
“Although pratfalls can be fun, encores can be fatal
and then I hear you say
Thank God it’s fatal, thank God it’s fatal”
10 plays
*
May
17
Anew
I’m all packed into little boxes.
I’ll carry them out when it’s time to
leave. My shallow heart steadily beating
in one, the tempo reverberating
through cardboard. I’ll hear the faint thump,
thump while my feet pad down the
staircase, holding the box in my tired hands.
My mind in another, along
with broken figurines, glass flowers,
disco balls, pieces of pictures I’ve ripped
up or cut out of magazines. All the useless
junk staring up at me, all the useless junk
I can’t stand to part with, and my brain nestled
within it all, a vulnerable robin’s egg.
I’ve haphazardly strewn the rest of myself
among a colony of squares, memories tossed
into boxes of dirty laundry, dresses with sneering
stains on the back, pants that carry heavy smells
from some place or another. I’ll bring them all out,
and that’s how it will end, with an empty
house, the vacant rooms echoing your name.
I’m all packed into little boxes, and when
it’s time to leave I’ll close the door gently
and with regret, the hinges softly squeaking
the possibility of you and I for the last time.
- My brain during the day: Potato, potato, ching chong tomato
- My brain at night: I wonder why the Earth was placed exactly here and allowed us to provide a perfect climate to sustain human life.
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