"...I'm like a mirror baby. I refract light back at you.
So silent, so thin, so tricky now.
We do the things that lovers do.
I'm not at liberty to say how a
Secret message came for you today.
It holds the secrets of my heart and my mind.
It tells of vast expanses
Stretching backwards over time.
Two objects at equal distance, acting as if they care.
Does weight follow mass in this instance?
Oh, E equals MC squared.
I'm not at liberty to say how a
Secret message came for you today.
It holds the secrets of my heart and my mind.
It tells of vast expanses
Stretching backwards over time."
-Secret Message by Rasputina
Thank you, holymackerel for introducing me to Rasputina. And thank you surlyclown for your descriptions of Rasputina live.
I'm stumped as to what to write about tonight. I've sat here for a couple hours, fucking around, IM'ing people, looking at strange animations (thanks Abracapocus for Qrime)
This reminds me of the first year of my Economics degree. I had a chemistry midterm. I have no ability to memorize details, and I chose my seat poorly: I sat directly in front of the podium. The professor kept getting up and pacing and standing in front of me.
I looked at my paper and realized that all formulas which were supposed to be lurking in my cranium had poofed. ALL of them. Professor X was standing over me. I panicked. It was 40 minutes into the exam and I'd written nada.
I started writing gibberish. Random variable names and unknowns. Moving my pen on the paper. Appeasing the professor's appetite for exam progress.
The formulas were fanciful. A strange thing happened then: I started to notice familiar groupings of variables. The formulas were flowing onto the paper. I attacked my exam and managed to pull off an A in the remaining 35 minutes.
Where were those formulas stored? How did the movement of my hand on the paper forming numbers and variables open the locked door?
Perhaps I can do the same thing with writing. If I just sit here and spill words out. Words like rusty bicycle with a flat tire. Or blighted tree. Darkness falling. Twilight thrush song. Starlit brook. Curling up on damp moss. Late night cold. Rustling in the undergrowth. Eyes reflected in dimming moonlight. Growl. Sunlight dappled clay path. Cry of discovery. Dropped fishing rod. Rusty bicycle sitting partly in a brook. Wheel turned by the water.
Hmm. Word spilling. Fun. I must try to actually write something next time.
So silent, so thin, so tricky now.
We do the things that lovers do.
I'm not at liberty to say how a
Secret message came for you today.
It holds the secrets of my heart and my mind.
It tells of vast expanses
Stretching backwards over time.
Two objects at equal distance, acting as if they care.
Does weight follow mass in this instance?
Oh, E equals MC squared.
I'm not at liberty to say how a
Secret message came for you today.
It holds the secrets of my heart and my mind.
It tells of vast expanses
Stretching backwards over time."
-Secret Message by Rasputina
Thank you, holymackerel for introducing me to Rasputina. And thank you surlyclown for your descriptions of Rasputina live.
I'm stumped as to what to write about tonight. I've sat here for a couple hours, fucking around, IM'ing people, looking at strange animations (thanks Abracapocus for Qrime)
This reminds me of the first year of my Economics degree. I had a chemistry midterm. I have no ability to memorize details, and I chose my seat poorly: I sat directly in front of the podium. The professor kept getting up and pacing and standing in front of me.
I looked at my paper and realized that all formulas which were supposed to be lurking in my cranium had poofed. ALL of them. Professor X was standing over me. I panicked. It was 40 minutes into the exam and I'd written nada.
I started writing gibberish. Random variable names and unknowns. Moving my pen on the paper. Appeasing the professor's appetite for exam progress.
The formulas were fanciful. A strange thing happened then: I started to notice familiar groupings of variables. The formulas were flowing onto the paper. I attacked my exam and managed to pull off an A in the remaining 35 minutes.
Where were those formulas stored? How did the movement of my hand on the paper forming numbers and variables open the locked door?
Perhaps I can do the same thing with writing. If I just sit here and spill words out. Words like rusty bicycle with a flat tire. Or blighted tree. Darkness falling. Twilight thrush song. Starlit brook. Curling up on damp moss. Late night cold. Rustling in the undergrowth. Eyes reflected in dimming moonlight. Growl. Sunlight dappled clay path. Cry of discovery. Dropped fishing rod. Rusty bicycle sitting partly in a brook. Wheel turned by the water.
Hmm. Word spilling. Fun. I must try to actually write something next time.
VIEW 25 of 45 COMMENTS
yeah snow season is great, i'm a fan of the cold.. australia isnt well known for its snow, its pretty shitty.. our surf is much better, however i've already got 11 days booked up at the snow..