Sometimes it’s just better in here—
April 9th, 2012when all the psyche bleeds out your fingertips
April 5th, 2012
sometimes you feel like a nut
January 25th, 2012
A digital mixtape— for the academically insane— by yours truly.
In tribute to a very lovely lady about to open a can of whoopass on her thesis.
1. Evergreen . Celebration
2. Early In the Morning . Heartless Bastards
3. TV Pro . The Vines
4. Black Grease . The Black Angels
5. Walk In the Park . Beach House
6. Number One Blind . Veruca Salt
7. Unguided . The New Pornographers
8. Mistaken For Strangers . The National
9. The Bank . Emily Haines
10. Jamais . Charlotte Gainsbourg
11. Moonland . Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
12. Frank Sinatra . Cake
13. Caramel . Blur
14. Sunday (pt. 1) . Cibo Matto
15. Sunday (pt. 2) . Cibo Matto
16. Goodnight . PJ Harvey
shut up. I am busy manifesting some possible worlds.
January 18th, 2012
just sitting in the waiting room at the internet (again)
January 17th, 2012
speak and spell
January 16th, 2012I opened the door, and nothing was there. I felt a slight whisper. I heard velvet against my cheek.
Syllables and periods like searchlights in fog—I could have sworn that someone slipped past me. Something stepped through me. Through my skin—through my hair—through my fingernails—through the pollinated stamens of my iris—like a bitter wind on Valentine’s Day.
But there was nothing. No one. A darkened frame.
A battered porch step.
I looked around. I sniffed the air. I shut the door. I remembered.
Ruptures in the calculus…
January 11th, 2012
“Invasions of the imaginary, invasions of capital, of the augmented real, invasions through the imaginary: invasions or invaginations, incorporations or intensifications? These terms entangle and return to:
Either the proper body, or the body as heap;
the articulated body, or the dismembered and reassembled body;
the body characterized by a real, or the body chararacterized
by an imaginary;
either the fundamental topography of the body,
or the fundamental topology of the body – invasions, dissolutions,
ruptures.
Ruptures as returns of the repressed: What lexicons are at work? What
economies?”
-Alan Sondheim
Underbelly
January 10th, 2012True—no one is ever what they seem. But, then again, we’re not really trained to flaunt our flaws.
Long Nets
December 3rd, 2011Reel me in the long nets.
Bring gold stirrups and rusted spurs.
Bring snares for riding rhinos
for trotting hautily in tension
for racing
the burning station
wagons and bridled girls.
Give me your father’s pocket knife.
Watch the sun invent its pocket watch.
Divide our time in tiny morsels
and feed the unborn bankers—
Mister Bliss-
ster Monotone
in his biscuit box.
Someone sink their teeth in.
Lend the Listless
a last resort.
Now draw for me a diagram.
Give it wings. Then give it words.
Pet it on its fawn-head.
Sing tawny denizens to bed.
Tranquilized
I’ll let you
decolonize my sins.
hand trap
November 19th, 2011