Log in

No account? Create an account
06 January 2013 @ 01:53 am
Time folds
like paper
thousands of tiny
triangle shapes

Unfolds, uneven,
just when
did a memory or other take place?

Sleep's heavy fingers
closing your eyes
not even dreaming yet,
not even trying

not even...

the sky turns pink

turns orange

turns black

speckled in starlights
speckled in lights

turns black again
as sleep closes your eyes

light in the morning
shines softly away
dewdrops to mist,
dreamworlds to day

when did it end
when did it start
when did, how, what, where
not far apart

time folded in paper
like ancient starmaps
going nowhere
and everywhere
(a spiraling trap)

going anywhere

and everywhere

and back

and back

and back.

This is how it all begins,
this is how it always was.
This is how it never ends
29 December 2012 @ 04:27 pm
Of tradition. Yearly year's end cell phone beach photos.

The sun was reflecting off the waves giving the ocean this ridiculously beautiful iridescent glitter effect.

+more (bigger)Collapse )
Current Mood: okayokay
Current Music: IAMX - Volatile Times (IAMseX Unfall Rework)
01 December 2012 @ 11:37 pm
This is where it ends, this is
How it begins again, again...
How to travel back in time?
Remember, and pretend.

There are memories only melodies go,
Truths we refuse to acknowledge, I know...

This is how we carry on,
this is how we float on wings:
a promise of eternity
that unties all the strings.

We shouldn't have to wander and,
We shouldn't have to search for home,
But we do, we trip on own shoes...
Remember, stargazers, you're never alone.

A star fell from the sky last night,
it crashed and it made the earth tremble below,
it made such a bright, such a beautiful sight,
as it neared, a dark autumn night sky set aglow,

Then the sky was ignored
as we feared for our lives
as the ground shook,
we thought we might die...

Maybe this is all it is,
maybe this is all it was,
this is where the end begins,
because, because, because

Because it's written in the stars
Because stars shift and fade from sight
Because dead stars still shine, because
We hide in the shadows of night


Current Mood: should be sleeping
Current Music: IAMX - Ghosts Of Utopia
08 October 2012 @ 09:14 pm
All that it ever will be is,
all it ever was
-- because it's written in the stars --
because it was written in forgotten pages
because time folds like paper,
found like everything lost, accidentally,
unfolded, read, then hidden away
for later


or sooner
or always
or never,

no distiction
between a wish,
a star, a fish
and fiction

no distiction
between recollection,
distorted reflections
and visions

and repetitions

there are melodies only memories can go
and dreams of strange places that nobody knows

there are memories where all of our melodies go
and dreams of familiar places we know

and forget to remember when time folds like paper
unfolds into dozens of tiny triangle shapes
this was the map of your future, remember?
you forgot just as soon as you stashed it away

All that was is, truly,
all that it will ever be
continually being written
between breath and life and sleep




and repetition

a premonition

and yet...
Current Mood: okayokay
Current Music: mirrors - secrets
28 September 2012 @ 11:47 pm
So I have chills and fevers and all around sickness and can't sleep, so, among swishing thoughts,
I remembered something Marlo said, as a joke, in NY.

He asked me if I was familiar with the concept of "seapunk" - which I was not, at all.
I said the "sea" part appealed to me, but not so much the "punk" - he explained it has little to do with punk rock (indeed).
However, in spite of the very superficial level on which I do understand it - I will quote Marlo on this -

"You're avant-guard. You were doing that sea-stuff 10 years ago."
(As parody, of course. Seriously, whatever seapunk is, I'm too old to care, but I like to gloat when I did things way before you did. Never too old for that.)
Seashell necklace and all.

He also said I could sell myself as "the first ever seapunk author" - for the internet generation's short attention spans.



#seapunk - I edited this pic as an inside joke with gimpjesus.

(These pics are 2006-ish.)

Current Mood: sick
Current Music: The Golden Filter - Frejyas Ghost
17 September 2012 @ 11:40 pm
"Every word unspoken,
every verse, between the cracks
and crevices of broken
walls, are swallowed back

into your heart, you drank the sea,
you breathed the sky, you danced the night.
And now it's time for us to leave,
our shadows will follow behind."

Shai listened as if the message originated in her own memories, not in words.
She nodded.

"Then what?"

Samantha began to smooth Shai's hair and separate black strands to weave a thin braid.

"Then you start again - not really,
then is when the start begins.
The start began already, deary,
Remember to remember everything."

Shai was already summoning a song and swayed, hugging her knees tightly to her chest as she stared out into the horizon, where black sea met grey sky.

"Onward," she said.

"Forward." Samantha replied.


Shai would have cried on another occasion.
Samantha secured a dry fern leaf at the end of Shai's new braid, wrapping the stem patiently and trying a knot.
She put her hand on Shai's shoulder and responded:

"For every word."

"Was never heard."

Said Shai, rhyming without thinking, as she stretched and rolled to the floor, now laying on her back, staring up into the heavens.

Samantha twirled about, found an uneven glass bottle to tap on, producing a four note melody.
Shai vaguely recalled it, as if she had composed it herself. Not being able to remember drove her almost to annoyance.
Like a memory on the very surface of realization.

She stood up with a twirl, brushed away the dust from her skirt and swung her bag on her shoulder.
A hand crafted notebook Samantha made from mashed leaf paper, her tarot deck (cards with edges faded round), quill, ink powder.

"Is that absurd?"

"Not the in the slightest, Sam. Let's go."

Samantha lead the way, frolicking down isles of architectural rubbish.
Shai followed.
Running, running,
jumping all five steps with a thump and booted stumble,
faster as she began to lose her breath,
not looking back.
Current Mood: sleepysleepy
03 September 2012 @ 05:21 pm
A handful of photographs (one of a few) from my (few day) trip to NY with velvety_ink.

Marlo took us to Greenwood cemetery, where we mostly giggled at the funny names on the tombstones.

Come to your own conclusions.

More later, for sure.

I just have so much work to do at the moment, it's making my eye twitch.

+Collapse )
Current Mood: goodgood
Current Music: All Gone Dead - Vivid still beating
21 August 2012 @ 03:22 pm
Current Mood: busybusy
16 August 2012 @ 11:51 pm
the grip tightens
so that stars explode inside my eyes

and a universe collapses into itself...

there are memories only melodies know
places only in dreams to go

even the sea is finite... but you wouldn't believe it.

...and neither would I.

feathers fell from the sky
and I thought "I could die"

as the grip tightened
and stars, they blew up in my eyes

and a universe collapsed into itself...

there are melodies only memories can go
and dreams of strange places than nobody knows

skies are infinite, believe it,
(or don't even try)
Current Mood: tiredtired
24 July 2012 @ 10:43 pm
there is a notion that words couldn't catch
only an image that haunts, that plays back

like a silent film,
in pieces

like colors on a palette of memories
(and melodies)
painting over in shades that cannot be reproduced
not exactly

there is a notion that couldn't be translated
couldn't be worded
couldn't be recognized,
(not if you heard it)

it looks like a spatter,
like the silence of night
reflected on rolling
waves of dark light

it flickers
it is
(and it isn't)

never the same

like the shore

like paint...
Current Mood: strange
12 May 2012 @ 10:25 am
Lately I spend my free time isolated, buried in papers or scurrying in the dark doing something or other just to recharge, because I work with so many people on a daily basis...
People, nice as they may be, and being indoors take away something from me... I probably need to learn how to separate energies in my mind, but for now, this is what works.
Though, I must say, it has been a really nice last couple of days, and I do really enjoy my work.

However, I don't see my friends anymore, barely ever.
But this is beside the point (though very closely beside).

This is a photo post.

A few weeks ago I spent an afternoon with my friend Krisia, who does all kinds of amazing art.
(Please see her tumblr as well.)

She proposed to take some photos of me out in the wilderness. It turned out my old house was the most convenient location, and I was thrilled, because I love any opportunity to go back there.

We weren't there for long, but it was a perfect few hours.
She walked down to the river with me with her super camera barefoot, almost ruining her less than conventional pedicure (she has little pointed claws on her toes!).
I ruined my kitty boots because I fell into the water (now they kind of smell).
But all in all, we had an awesome time because she enjoys getting lost in the woods as much as I do.
And I saw my pookie, which I miss every day.

I need days like that more often, or I will, quite literally, lose my mind.

+Collapse )
Current Mood: goodgood
Current Music: Mirrors - into the heart
17 April 2012 @ 02:57 pm
what exactly,

hanging over
clouding over
nearly suffocating


...blowing over,
blowing UP.

cracking open
sharp and loud
up and up,
beyond the clouds

glitter trailing,
soft and slow
feathers floating,
falling low
Current Mood: :[
Current Music: B! Machine - Door Inside a Door (Late Night Mix)
15 April 2012 @ 09:18 pm
I stole a silken strip of light
and threw it back into the sky.
What's it look like from up there,
what's it like to fly?

I thought I knew, I think I know,
how feathers flow to wind from wing,
from dream to waking memory,
from cloud to leaf, and sing.

Hot like vapor, cold as ice,
dry as pages, wet like ink.
I never thought that we'd escape,
I never stopped to think.

This is how it comes together,
this is all it ever was,
this is all that mattered, ever,
no plans, no ends, no cause.

This is how we carry on,
this is how we float on wings:
a promise of eternity
that unties all the strings.

The only projection is "maybe."
The only direction is "lost."
The only negation is "finite."
The only confusion is "what."

What was the word for the something,
that utters instructions for flight?
Blossoming, blooming and hunting,
destruction, its function and blight.

Wonderment, struckment and this is just how
another once told twice the elements set.
All of the words corresponded to sounds,
each was aflight and alight, yet, and yet...

//photo: unrelated

Current Mood: nostalgicnostalgic
Current Music: This Vision - Leaving Angels
27 March 2012 @ 10:01 pm
Wasn't it always...
was it ever?
Both and neither
stuck together.

This is where it all begins
this is where it ends.
How to travel back in time:
remember, and pretend.

//photo: unrelated

Current Mood: medicated
01 March 2012 @ 08:41 am

Thank you, anonymous!
Current Mood: excitedexcited
Current Music: Mirrors - into the heart
01 March 2012 @ 08:31 am
This used to be the view outside my bedroom window.

Now, the view outside the window in my head when I sit at the computer and pretend I'm home.

I get the feeling it will always be.
Current Mood: nostalgicnostalgic
Current Music: The Cure - Push
29 February 2012 @ 04:47 pm
Current Mood: tiredtired
31 January 2012 @ 02:26 pm
Maybe some of you know, since livejournal isn't where I post my news anymore, that little Patti died too young a little earlier this month.
I don't even want to talk about it.

Tonight, as it happens sometimes, I felt her scratching her little paws against the door.
I haven't stopped talking to her, and I know it's all in my head... the sounds, the feelings...
I still talk to her, as a reflex, as if she were there. It helps me cope.
I have one of her chewed up, dry bones in my room that makes me feel all warm and happy every time I pick it up. I remember her tossing it and bouncing it with her paws with what appeared to be a fuzzy muzzle smile.
I miss her, and I know sometimes I act like a crazy person as I'm dealing with it.

So when I heard the scratches, fully aware as a grown woman that she could not possibly be haunting me, I had a childish regression that put me right back in the 80s, when I was about four years old.

I wished so hard she'd come back as a little white ghost.

Do you know what that feels like? To experience an emotion as if you were a child at a certain, specific moment?

So I kept thinking about this, where this silly wishful thinking came from, because it felt so familiar, and I felt so little...

I remembered the very first time I lost a pet.
My mom's TzyTzy (pronounced SEE-TSEE) a little, black mixed breed that travelled half way around the world with her and with which I grew up with as a baby, had 2, tiny black puppies once upon a time.
Of course I wanted to keep them.
I named one Tofudi and the other one Ferdy. (Bear with me, I was three).
We had to give Ferdy away, but we kept Tofudi, which I adored, because he was mine.
TzyTzy, though only a tiny little dog, was kind of a motherly figure to me (she would actually look after and scold me), and Tofudi was more like a furry little brother.

Not even a year later, Tofudi was ripped apart by a neighbor's German Shepheard and bled to death in my arms.

I don't really remember the event as it happened, only flashes, the whole idea now is just a memory of a memory that I hadn't visited in 25 years.

After Tofudi died, I hoped and hoped for him to haunt me, and was so disappointed he never did. Knowing ghosts weren't real, or so it was according to my mom, who knew everything (and still does).

But back to tonight, I tried making a connection between what I felt and Tofudi, beyond both being unexpected, horrible, early pet deaths.
Ferdy, who is essentially irrelevant in this whole situation (we gave him away to a nice lady and assumed his fate was pleasant), kept coming back into the picture.

And suddenly I remembered.
I named him after a cartoon, I had to google "ferdy dead fox."

It's from Casper.

Watch it. Cry.

This was my favorite episode and possibly my favorite cartoon for a long time. I know I must have watched it a gazzillion times on VHS because none of it surprised me, I had it memorized at some point.
Though I don't remember watching this ever after Tofudi died, however, not until now.
Possibly because it was traumatizing.

And what a strange feeling, to slip in time, right into another age...
It's like running Windows 95 on your current machine just because you can.

I remember too much.
(I can still sing parts of Barbie and the Rockers songs from before I was in preschool, but couldn't remember I had a work meeting this Saturday.)
Current Mood: headachey
24 December 2011 @ 10:51 pm
I'm avoiding writing anything in here (my thoughts are scattered all about) afraid I may vomit up my own heart.

I do, however, post (not so regularly) real life events at a-e, just to fill in space (afraid of the latter as well).

But somewhere along, si6nifi3r (which surprises me has survived for almost 5 years now) became a picture journal, so on with it.

Earlier today my mom and I were doing whatever we felt like in celebration that we had no responsibilities for the day, so I suggested we go to the seashore to take pictures.
With our phones.
So we did.

Fun fact: last time we went to that beach about a year ago, I was wearing the exact same jacket and T-shirt.

+9Collapse )
Current Mood: sleepysleepy
Current Music: Dismantled - Disease
23 December 2011 @ 12:42 pm
Current Mood: cheerfulcheerful