Tag Archives: sick

early 70s gymnastics

16 Mar

Feeling marginally better, which is nice. Still have a terrible sore throat, but I think I’ll be able to go in tomorrow.
So! What did I do today? Nothing. Nothing useful whatsoever. Hopefully tomorrow stuff will be done and cool things will happen, but atm I cannot think about future possibilities as my head is fit to burst and I’m thinking in loops of thought as opposed to more coherent sentences. My condolences.

Here, some midnight drabbles. Been a while since I’ve written any, hasn’t it?
my heart beats like a drum, reverberating through my shattered frame my enlightened skeleton. But our inhibited mysteries flood your soul. Leak through the openings. I am unsure of any an bass great guy he kind of bugs us [I cannot read the rest of this page at all.]
Inside the other rules and rumours when the sunbeams dodge the universal id our minds were sprained those social beauties crave terror-stricken heads under the planned escapades of thousands within our edgy thing that allowed off with the quiet team therapy
[next page:]
Oh the fickle stew of love, it thunders through my bones like a tiny apocalypse now under the skin under her bones she was nothing if not terrible. You are not the sort of person we’d known if given the chance-however unlikely. Your wrist? Gone. Back muscles? Yes. I don’t care about the cinema, but if you love the people make seams they have and hunt (scribbles) toast toast toaetsnfk
Lately I’ve been kind of lax about writing these. Going to do some tonight.

Will write tomorrow.

somehow, someone

27 Dec

Oh, the lazy days.

Since most of my family is out of commission at the moment, we haven’t done anything all day, which surprisingly sits quite well with me.
What does not sit well is the loud music filtering through my door and busting my relaxed mood. The CD my little sister has placed upon the speakers is none other than the much-loathed (to me at least) Only By The Night. I have half a mind to waltz in and turn that mofo off. But no. I will sit here and let dear Dan Auerbauch (that is probably not how you spell his name, ah well) sing raspy blues wonders into my ears.
Well, my sore throat is slowly retreating, but my nose has begun to run. That I can deal with.
I’ve just partway finished making a list of bands I want to see before I die, and it’s pretty epic-looking. Hopefully I go to an urban university so I can sputter about watching Spoon stagger across the stage or Jonsí strum his guitar with a bow or Thom do that funny space alien face he doeswhen he sings real high- I want to experience all of that. I want to paint my face and go see Kevin Barnes do his dances. I want to be in the mosh pit of My Morning Jacket. I want to give Wayne Coyne a high-five or hug.
Oh, this life! It is one of infinite possibilities!

fish lips

27 Dec

I have a cold.
My throat is burning, my nose is running, I have spoken three words today thus far, and I’ve just finished House Of Leaves.
That was certainly a helluva book.
I will write a more coherent review/writeup of it later, when I can think in a straight line rather than in loops of thought.
Hopefully I’ll feel better soon.

ceasing to exist

8 Dec

it pays to have friends in the food service industry

Natalie Dee comics, yes.

UUGGH this week. This week needs to go and explode itself, Tarantino-style. I do not want to exist right now. I want to melt into a puddle of nonexistence and just…just explode.

and found Bortglomt looking back at me today; I think I never have felt quite as infatuated as I do with him. I…I kind of…I…never mind.

‘Bout all for today. Will write more tommorrow.

in case of emergency, break glass

17 Nov

and the glass is in shards around my ankles right now. God, I’m confused and heartachey and full to the brim with this feeling- this feeling that will not go away, no matter how many times I listen to Steam Engine or lie in bed staring blankly at the ceiling, thinking of things better left buried deep in my subconcious. I am in the center of a ring of confusion- on one side are my friends, one of which may or may not be going through a mental breakdown and has not told me, the other of which may be slowly falling away from sanity and beginning to embrace stress as an acceptable way of life.
Then there’s the three people responsible for this heartache- one that I am deathly afraid of him hating me/never speaking to me again/renouncing any inkling of our friendship and possibly ignoring me for the rest of my life. The second one is worrying me as I am starting to write frickin’ poetry about him (not on LiveJournal, thank god) and I know he doesn’t think of me as anything other than another person. (Maybe. ) The
third is just plain being an enigma, telling me one thing then suddenly, inexplicably, turning into a tacit stress magnet. Not that he wasn’t one before, but now it’s scaring me, how seriously he’s taking these standardized tests. I am afraid if he doesn’t get into this program he might be broken beyond recognition, or worse… I don’t even want to think about that possibility. No, I will not let myself even consider it.
But I feel stifled somehow, like I have something so great to write about but no ideas… Maybe it has to do with the music, or maybe it has to do with the people, or maybe I am just slowly going stark raving mad and no one is frank enough to tell me.
Bortglomt. I would like a hug from you, though you probably don’t read this.
Tweed, you are bloody confusing.
Agætis, I hope you survive your ordeal and go back to being your slightly off-the-wall self; the self I like to talk to and spend time with.

so take your money don’t look back…my morning jacket, you are brilliant and I’d like to give you all lumberjack thrash hair hugs.

Ciao, dears.