Sunday, July 31, 2005

19hrs

The door is closed. My fingers hold the vapour. The trails left on my veins. The fat air illustrates the hand holding it up to the light. I caught the breeze. The frailty thickens. The evaporated sun rests slowly over my head as I open my mouth and breathe in the textures of tomorrow. My hands are cold. My head rings of sounds like spinning plates. His white shirt, the subtle feathers around the shoulder absorb the sounds from the mode, the piano's black slowly creeping its way into the minors. Its the red carpet we are standing on. But the sound is black and the sky is white. My veins can hold the sound no longer as I slowly become a victim to the body.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

RIP AiC

Can you think of something that will live with you forever? I can. Still enjoying Alice in Chains like as if it was the first time I heard it. This music is immortal. I can imagine listening to this stuff with Jay when we are 60. Well, he would be 58. We are victims to the body. Discoloured skin. YEAH! (like Layne would say it).

Sunday, July 24, 2005

If you're a thought
you will want me
to think you

------

And in her liner notes she thanks Marie by saying "We are pomegranates not apples." Is she for real? As usual, madly in love with Tori Amos. So many tears, such beauty is so rare. So real!

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Two pieces from Mr. Donwood

A Warning to the curious

When I am dead I will lie with crisp packets, bottles, cigarette ends, disposable nappies, television sets, computers, chairs, lightbulbs, guns, CDs, gas fires, refrigerators, typewriters, musical instruments, car parts and inhalers.

I will leave a complete text. A complex and detailed description of my life. It will almost be possible to imagine my long-past thoughts. My bones will be fused with plastic and metal. My teeth with mercury and plastic. I will sleep encapsulated in trash. Crisp packets, bottles, cigarette ends, disposable nappies, television sets, computers, chairs, lightbulbs, guns, CDs, gas fires, refrigerators, typewriters, musical instruments, car parts and inhalers.

I can't imagine my dead thoughts. My remains are grainy and bad quality, an old VHS tape that no-one will see.

Crisp packets, bottles, cigarette ends, disposable nappies, television sets, computers, chairs, lightbulbs, guns, CDs, gas fires, refrigerators, typewriters, musical instruments, car parts and inhalers.

----

Designer Outlet Village

I am too late, I am too old, I am late. Perhaps I am apprehensive and weary. We drink coffee from paper cups while we sit in a polystyrene medieaval castle. There aren't many people. The Burger King has a thatched roof and I briefly wonder about the employment prospects for thatchers in this wet, cold and foggy part of the country. I once wanted to be a thatcher, but today I am glad I am a nothing. Whatever. There is a glass roof arching over everything here anyway. And I wouldn't want to thatch a Burger King in a polystyrene castle. Motorway on such a grey day with fog and the town we drove through was dead and then a sliproad and huge signs loom out of the fog saying designer outlet village. We park in the carpark with the other cars. After walking to the designer outlet village there is music outside in the fog but it isn't very good music and even without fog it wouldn't be very good. Inside there are a lot of clothes to buy but I don't buy any because they aren't very good. There are a few people from the dead town here and they aren't buying any of the clothes either. Everyone is very subdued. This is quite nice, she says to me, holding something with sleeves up for me to look at but I can't find any words. Perhaps I am apprehensive and weary. We drink coffee from paper cups while we sit in a polystyrene medieaval castle.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

So, taking tips from draco, I have decided to have some thoughts down. I should be happy. But there is something that's not real. I don't know what it is. But now that I have started piano classes and also gone and bought a beautiful upright, I am more at peace with myself. I am happy I am able to do this with my time. It really makes me feel happy. Hope I practice, practice and practice and learn to play "Mazurka in F Minor". Really. So, thats it, then.

Final Fruit

i closely watched the transformation.
i suspiciously opened the envelope.
i unconsciously walked towards the open door.
i unknowingly controlled my mind as it began to wander
and i quietly sat on the chair with a blindfold around my eyes,
sulking, thinking, crying, suffocating.

i think i am fine. i need another chair.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Bright, bright day

The colour surrounds the form,
Breaks my face into a thousand smiles smaller,

The face mimics the water,
Crashes the swan a thousand windows harder,

The sun disco's the frontier,
Finishes the mammoth heart a thousand sections warmer,

The mind shark's the wooden sigh,
Smashes the mountain a thousand alarms louder,

And colours the sheep a thousand whites lighter.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Do we want the sun to corner our friends?

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Sound of sounds

The sound of the trumpet through my headphones. The sound of her hands in a plastic bag. The sound of a garbage bag inside a steel trashcan. The sound of her voice and the sound of his cough. The sound of fingers on a keyboard. The sound of a yawn and a voice singing "let me take you there cos i am going to...". The sound of the heels of a shoe on a floor made of wood. The sound of the sun setting. The sound of monitors switching off.

I am the sound inside someone else's head right now.