A Sorta Fairytale

batho/s/patho/s/*ological/

2014-09-20T20:50:10Z

psuedo iterative
got some candy and a sweet thing
a sweet saying?

collecting the moments, avoiding calling my father?
tell me when i don't need you any more. something you're going to get something here you're right in the middle and then something is coming back again. i remember the summer in abaddon. i don't want to go to where you're not... so it's beulah land? i've got a fever above my waist you've got a squeezebox on your knee and yes i swear you're the fiercest calm i've been in. fierce calm. particle by particle just another fix can i weather this.

even though people change they mostly don't forget. so what is change, if iterations move us along to another self, but those who define us just store them as a sum and i a product, i guess. not as clear, but built upon orders of magnitude more.

who cares how you love if you are not loved.

it's just a year you know, pretty good

2014-08-22T16:56:15Z

i want to document this somewhere somehow. a decade+ after her as a zeitgeist for my life, i saw tori amos last night. alone somehow the second time i've done that. my own fault, tbh. probably just wanted it that way. not that i'd forgotten how judgmental tall adam is, after all.

that was all.

and later, now, still. i've come to love beulah land.

adrinna @ 2014-06-10T12:57:00

2014-06-10T19:57:24Z

hello sun

2014-06-03T20:02:20Z

i forgive the blows that hurt me i forgive the stillborn hopes i forgive the indifference instead of grief i choose forgetting instead of vengeance i choose victory.

silkies and religion

2014-05-23T18:46:58Z

unzips her skin finally determined through a window in the dark
there he sits all alone
I've been waiting on the love of my life to find he's been waiting on his Selkie to come back he said "I know these shores are not like yours but will you make your home in my arms?" selkie battled tide and wave just to gaze upon his face hiding behind rocks to learn
if he found a new love

Loralie sings the song for Lovers who were torn apart then left broken hearted Loralie hears the cry of Lovers who the Sea of Fate has separated

if you find the Vicar's wife running through the rain on her way from St. James to Mary's in the field you'll find she plays guitar sometimes with her band

but she plays the bass like a Messiah

prohibition in curls

2014-05-22T17:57:55Z

Folie à deux

2014-04-30T22:34:58Z

Too many things are changing at once.

It's a lot to handle. :(

unkind

2014-04-16T22:19:13Z

circles and circles and circles again.

that wasn't kind of you.

i was always kind.

like no one's watching you

2014-02-09T07:39:19Z

the night is like a moment, a love, a dream, aloud. a kiss. a cry.
fleeting things, all things i seem to dwell on. nothing sinks in, not who i am, or where i'm going. none of the future makes sense except him. i wish i was my own sometimes... that the things i wanted made sense.

i'll just stay here.

a night alone is hard, i wish it wasn't. i wish i was better.

nature always gets her way

2014-01-06T00:31:16Z

how much is enough?

calmer, now, some release, new anxiety replaces old. time to test something new for a few minutes at least.

promiscuity is research and development evolution begs embellishment.

how are you going to know what you need/what you like til you've been around the block.

i know, now, then. wiggling closer to the light, i'm want to change the world. i'm going to change the world.

stay

2013-12-06T06:44:56Z

i want to make this play
but i know you're faded
mmm, but stay
don't close your hands.

death is only an old door

2013-11-25T03:16:48Z

it seems like so much more recent, the loss. that empty loss of more than a year ago.

death is only an old door, right? set in a garden wall? nothing to hurt at all? only a quiet door, set in al old wall.

why it still hurts. one year (and a non-close, sort of lost uncle to me), a month ago (a friend of the bakery, but not close), ten plus years ago (a close friend, lost on his own, unknown the real reasons for the loss), fifteen or so years ago, a closer sister. lost before her dreams could be what mine have been. i feel like when people go now i know that at least they have got past fourteen and the angst of our teenage years... i hated that but i wish she would have had it, at least i loved the angst of the later teens - i dwell on my real first loves, that intense spark.... i've felt like i could never have that again until recently. a re-awakening. is it a something i want or just a distraction from boredom in my 40 hours? i'll take neil's advice as usual and wait it out... when life gives me some sort of fulfillment in the reality of the daylight hours, i'll know if the off-hours are missing the spark, right?

and that kind of makes me sad... life being on the off-hours. right now i just kind of make it through the hours. uninspired, hoping that something exciting will happen. fascinated as usual by the usual weird shit that happens in a normal day, but more obsessive. i stick to bowie, math rock, the rubik's cube, and beer. the first three seemingly fleeting interests but intense nonetheless. hey me- check back in a year or 18 months. am i still drooling over the excitement of playing life on mars? do i still love the rush of some mars volta, three trapped tigers, minus the bear, sleeping people, battles, tera melos, fugazi, or maps & atlases? am i still solving the cube obsessively? have i really learned any new algorithms? i think i can tell when an obsession will be fleeting, but sometimes not. i thought bfd would last longer.

i feel lost. i saw cliff last week and that helped, i think. i fixed my guitar, changed the strings. i'd like to change the strings in my brain. re-write my code, actually... find the most efficient way to fulfillment.

doesn't everyone want that?

for now i just keep following whatever that glimmer is that catches my eye. if it's doctor who, bowie, the keys, the strings, a bike ride, a new beer to brew, some dessert recipe, a book about cubik math, prime numbers, number porn, math tutoring, a new band, asymmetric time signatures, python projects, organizing the hop stash, figuring out which beer to cellar next, teaching myself a new bjcp style, etc...

i want a monument to this time. discovery. a friendship i never had. i kind of hate it. i wish i had done the discovering already, but what can you do.

i decided to keep a book of inspirations. we'll see how that goes.

concertina

2013-11-11T05:11:21Z

concertina concertina a chill that bends
this i swear you're the fiercest calm
i've been in

the soul quake happened here in a glass world particle by particle she slowly changes she likes hanging chinese paper cuts just another fix can i weather this

*remember sometimes you feel like you're not yourself when really, how can you not be? sometimes it's just one of yourselves you haven't seen in a while.

once i knew.

2013-10-20T01:42:23Z

...and at once i knew i was not magnificent
high above the highway aisle
shake it, fake it, stick with us
i could see for miles, miles, miles

perth

2013-10-18T04:03:10Z

if i could write in bon iver i would tonight. the crash, notes, something like a post apocalyptic rock band. unpredictable.

a crash course in retrospectives.

i am a crash course in getting shit done.

i am a crash course in love.

euclid is there with his polyhedron.
euclid is there with his polygon.
euler is there with his brick.
walt is there with his multitudes.
tennessee is there with his fire escapes.
and i am here. with my schadenfreude.

i am less taciturn these days.

leaves of grass

2013-09-30T03:29:07Z

you open your old walt whitman for a little fix, and folded-up notebook paper falls from the back cover. a lead sheet for an old love song for an old friend, written from an over-played dave matthews band song.

a six dollar copy of leaves of grass.
an old forgotten song, an incomplete lead sheet. something i'd never had thought would have been forgotten. lost. lost music is probably the saddest thing these days. lost music. lost inspiration. lost direction. lost purpose.

vigilante thoughts

2013-09-26T03:54:40Z

and a cheap guitar
i am my own movie star.

from one to the next

2013-09-23T02:51:30Z

and maybe the most we can do
is just to see each other through it
hour follows hour like water in a river
and from one to the next
we don't know what each hour will deliver
we just call it like we see it
call it out loud as we can
and then afterwards we call it all water over the dam
maybe the moral higher ground
ain't as high as it seems
maybe we are both good people
done some bad things
i just hope it was okay
i know it wasn't perfect
i hope in the end we can laugh
and say it was all worth it

recollections like the kind of marks we make when we're trying to make a pen work again

2013-09-23T02:49:22Z

and i always got the feeling you just liked to hear it fall

off your tongue

but i remember my name

in your mouth

and i don't think i was done hearing it close to my ear on a whisper's way to a moan
but pavlov hits me with more bad news every time i answer the phone
so i play and i sing and i just let it ring all day when i'm at home

a defacto choice of macro or

microcosmic melancholy

but baby, any way you slice it i'm thinkin i could just as soon use

the time alone

wish i didn't have this nervous laugh wish i didn't say half the stuff i say

i'm telling you i'm different than you think i am and you can dangle your carrot but i aint gonna reach for it because i need both my hands to play my guitar.

i wonder if everything i do
i do instead
of something i want to do more
the question fills my head
i know there's no grand plan here
this is just the way it goes
when everything else seems unclear
i guess at least i know

i do it for the joy it brings
because i'm a joyful girl

thank yous

2013-09-17T05:08:16Z

"My thank-yous always come out rather labored. I often don't give them at all. People do what they're supposed to do and then wait for you to pile on the appreciation --- they're like frozen-yogurt employees who put out cups for tips."

inspiration

2013-09-15T04:02:43Z

searching for a muse, something to start the spark... i need to sparkle about something again. otherwise what does it matter?

it's on america's tortured brow

2013-09-10T16:47:42Z

that mickey mouse has grown up a cow.

i need a new word for the week, oubliette has worn out her welcome. zeitgeist is a good one.

flying in just a sweet place.

oubliette

2013-08-20T14:34:38Z

i could use one of those right about now.

sometimes i breathe you in, but i know, you know.

nothing's been the same.

i need a space ship

2013-08-11T01:33:26Z

tiny, kind of scary, trying again to connect with the keys. in my whole hope scorned alit on a black stretch of learning to stay in my hole.

listening to new, novel music lately. the iconoclastic had it coming for years they know the prisons that you have yet to fear where thumbs hide inside of sleeping bag mouths ad-lib your memoirs by casting a drought.

old music can still be compelling though novel when seen in a new light from my newly lashed eyes or open ears for sure you bet your life it is you bet your life well just peel out the watch word.

never sure where i put the keys anyways.

i'd like to put them back where they were, at least.

all on a spaceship persevering use my hands for everything but steering.

cool cats and not really that terrible after all. my favorite number is more like i these days. inscrutable.

no survivors

2013-07-09T21:58:26Z

can you really just start to find yourself at 31?
can i just always be finding myself? what if i don't always do the same thing?

i am creative, an artist, really. it's weird to admit that, even though it's been there since childhood. i like science, i love math. i love writing code. i like making things. but i still have the artist's craving for novelty. i need novelty in work, i need novelty in life, but not too much. a move jolted me, a back injury, a shift in perspective. i learned to play volleyball. and maybe i like exercising a little bit. it helps with anxiety, at least.

i have always thought of myself as an extrovert, but i think i fall closer to introvert on the continuum than i thought. i am better with just one friend at a time, with large groups - it's not just social anxiety - i'm not myself - i'm not even the social me. i'm the "supposed to be" me. perhaps.

this is another phase that includes the strings. that squeaky, stringy, fret-y noise i love. sliding my fingers on the strings, the way they smell after, the way i breathe between chords.