Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Self
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Picture the journeys we've embarked upon that have led us to this aisle, staring up at the same title, wondering if we've found that lost thing we could never quite nail down. What is found was never lost. Let go of the illusion of going with the flow. We agreed upon this meeting place —…
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You have no discernible shape. You are all pulsating gray matter and no body. I want to give you form. I want to give you a frame from which to hang your sentiment and shame. You rise and roll right up over me. No string, no tail. Nothing to grab onto at all. My hand…
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And like o.k.: There's this particular writer whose work I've read and enjoyed and whom I find interesting and irritating all in one big, messy mouthful of come-one-come-all (talkin' bout chyoo JD). Yeah so, brutha man goes on about fat folks in his stories and he himself is pretty thin (cute, though – I'm shallow,…
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The complicated is what we're here to unravel. Demystify. Drag from out of the moist, murky shadows and acknowledge the well-meaning intention that turned out to be a terrible idea. But hey, you tried! Try, try again to find the lesson embedded in today's shitty situation. You and I are good and bad and weak-willed…
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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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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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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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controlled cowardicea maligned blank stone says sofate rocks me to sleep
Semi-Daily Scribbles 