March 2010
11 posts
phantogram - as far as i can see
do yourself...
1 tag
trillonious monk
i once tried writing when i was drunk. the beer: trappist rochefort #10. it was 11%. real tasty. i was drunk. real classy. i stared at the label and imagined a belgian monastery full of furtive monks brewing away as their heavy robes swished this way and that way. much like my former, six-year old self, i was convinced of the fanciful lies that fluttered about my imagination. this time, i was...
to know me is to:
know the words that engulf my life. at the moment, they are as follows:
achieve, swimmingly, elated, despite, circumstantial, no worries, frustrated, temporarily, invincible, questions, answers, maybe, because, resilience, planes, clouds, writing, skimming, talking, and more, world, pursue, yours, fixedly, dontknowwhy, solid, fluctuate, solitude, alone, typetype, typo-s, transparent, like water,...
CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF YOU, WOMAN
dear sarah vaughan,
please reincarnate yourself into another woman as equally beautiful, equally talented as yourself. some of my best solitary moments are spent with you, your voice sweetly filling the empty corners of my room.
just think about it. maybe i’ll name my kid after you or something. right next to miles.
yours,
rachel
2 tags
1 tag
new terrains
the language was never good to begin with.
it was too exaggerated, not specific enough.
too colorful, too drab.
so they took the writhing corpses and discarded them in plastic trashbags, tying the tops with rubber-bands so the words wouldn’t seep into the air.
“shut it out,” she said.
he tied the knots as tight as he could, then heaped it along with the other mass of...
2 tags
THEORY #143
this man and i will make wonderfully talented babies. the fruit of our loins will shine such a brilliant light on this world that the garish sun will pale in pitiful comparison.
plus, he’s a filipinoafricanamerican. i can dig it.
3 tags
ghosts and linen
When I was a child, I used to think the world ran on a universal time-clock. As the sun dipped well below the horizon, an all-consuming spell would wash over the population. Sheets stretched over beds in every corner of the globe; heads nestled comfortably in the soft crumples of pillows, of blankets, of lovers’ bodies. It was here that those ancient clock-hands decided to reveal Time’s...
