Because for now I have the luxury of using my journal just a forum to pose you odd questions, I'll use the privilege...
First, you asked for my address a while ago, along whith some SG's addresses... Was that just completely random?
Second, for my own nefarious purposes, do you have a car, or are you on foot in SB?
Third, If I asked very...
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First, you asked for my address a while ago, along whith some SG's addresses... Was that just completely random?
Second, for my own nefarious purposes, do you have a car, or are you on foot in SB?
Third, If I asked very...
Read More
Tonight I will cook Chicken Vindaloo and read Raymond Chandler, and dream of walking on the beach.
If I were a non-human animal, I'd be a desert fox
If I were a direction, I would be descending
If I were a piece of furniture,I would be an altar
If I were a liquid, I would be blood
If I were a stone, I would be a small round one, good for skipping.
If I were a tool, I would be a razor...
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If I were a direction, I would be descending
If I were a piece of furniture,I would be an altar
If I were a liquid, I would be blood
If I were a stone, I would be a small round one, good for skipping.
If I were a tool, I would be a razor...
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fractal:
I still haven't washed thesalt water out of my hair...I think i might be going through dread lock withdrawal, and I'm totally faking it right now with the gnarly sea hair,...
kalischild:
Honey, please don't show up in the desert looking like Feral Boy from The Road Warrior, Dreds are dreds, chunkies are chunkies, and never the twain shall meet.
Our last two posts made me think of Pablo Neruda:
"I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its
jewel boxes
is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure,
and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the
petal
hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light
and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall
from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.
I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead
of human eyes, dead in those darknesses,
of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes
on the timid globe of an orange.
I walked around as you do, investigating
the endless star,
and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked,
the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind."
Think about it next time you're out there.
[Edited on Apr 26, 2004 8:53PM]
Our last two posts made me think of Pablo Neruda:
"I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its
jewel boxes
is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure,
and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the
petal
hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light
and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall
from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.
I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead
of human eyes, dead in those darknesses,
of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes
on the timid globe of an orange.
I walked around as you do, investigating
the endless star,
and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked,
the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind."
Think about it next time you're out there.
[Edited on Apr 26, 2004 8:53PM]
Chaos and wrackage...
Coping with the moments as they trickle by too slow.
I have a dream, a plan, a hope. For travel and freedom, and the smell of hot, oiled iron. The sun baking down on texas asphalt, and a hundred hungry runs to soft and waiting eyes.
I want to fly, and burn, and run.
I miss the feel of alive.
Coping with the moments as they trickle by too slow.
I have a dream, a plan, a hope. For travel and freedom, and the smell of hot, oiled iron. The sun baking down on texas asphalt, and a hundred hungry runs to soft and waiting eyes.
I want to fly, and burn, and run.
I miss the feel of alive.
fractal:
don't we all my friend?
kalischild:
Nice to hear from you, lady...
I know, I know, we all feel this way, but there's a particular hunger you feel when you can see your desire from a distance, but not quite touch it, or even know that someday you will. It's an almost sensual anticipation; poised on the razor's edge between frustration and desire.
Or maybe it's just been awhile since I anticipated something good.
Looking back on this comment, it really looks like I'm talking about something else.
That's funny.
I know, I know, we all feel this way, but there's a particular hunger you feel when you can see your desire from a distance, but not quite touch it, or even know that someday you will. It's an almost sensual anticipation; poised on the razor's edge between frustration and desire.
Or maybe it's just been awhile since I anticipated something good.
Looking back on this comment, it really looks like I'm talking about something else.
That's funny.