Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Dreams
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The dream is meant to be given up just when all the Big Ideas roll in; a most inopportune time. The verdant years of youthful pursuits give way to ass-numbing commutes. Behold, the careerist is born, and Art is an old-fashioned name. Ambition whispers, but the tease is brief and weariness cuts off any outbursts…
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The awareness of the brain lost in thought, the knowledge of the body at home in this lunchtime dream drenched in milky sunshine, is preferable to the bite and sting of the early rise, the long bus ride, the musty insides of the shoe repair shop. Lara Milford, on this day, decides to go by…
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The Filchers don't care. You are just in their way. We're not real to them. Things, though. Things breathe, and feel, and transmit messages to us when we're fast asleep. Take that house on the corner, for example. It whispers a reedy greeting each time you pass by. "Hallooo Yoo." Things know us by how…
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Just a couple simple thoughts on a Sunday evening: 1.) Is this really the final week of October?2.) A cylinder has turned inside out. The significance of this event will become clear in three years. These thoughts, simple enough, will keep the mindbusy when my eyelids are shut tight tonight.
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A quick minute.A long moment.A pause that lasts forever. Phrases to set one's teeth on edge as the meaning of time gets lost in a multitude of interpretations. How many versions of reality play out between the beats of thought and action? To think is to do is to suffer from stage fright from cradle…
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I'll offer to entertain. Maybe slake a thirst you didn't know you had. Come sit beside me and let's repeat all those first time feelings they say can never flow through us again. If we're going to chase down a dream, Hope says the impossible is as good a goal as any.
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Keeping up old habits is an exhausting task. There must be some worthwhile gain in the game of self-sabotage or it wouldn't be such a popular sport. The mirror I hold in front of me is a grimy, broken lens through which images scream to be noticed. Relinquish all sense of specialness; everyone is a…
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This snapshot titled "Hallucination" thumbs its nose at my whole #AmPresent vibe. It's not Christmas today, which is the point of my daily photographic reminders, i.e.: Here I am, smack-dab in the middle of having a moment and not I am ignoring the present to obsess over future events. Any oddball item or chance meeting…
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Call it diligence, call it indulgence. There's just no other way to tame the ticking clock on the wall but to challenge Time's very existence. Ask a passing minute what its purpose is. It'll say: "To keep you in line." But it won't offer any personal information, like how it's stretchy and absorbent and doesn't…
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controlled cowardicea maligned blank stone says sofate rocks me to sleep
Semi-Daily Scribbles 