That's another whole box of Pandoras, that's another whole box of them ties
Notables:
* Started putting poetry up on DeviantART. I love DeviantART. God, I'm a loser.
* On a similar note, I started using the artpad at artpad.art.com to do some fun stuff in my free time. If anything turns out well (or if I ever finish a piece), I'll be sure to link it up like crazy... it's so much fun to play back the process once it's finished. God, if anything makes me want a Wacom tablet, it's that. They're only about 85 dollars... who knows, maybe I'll get one as an X-mas/birthday present for myself. When did I start becoming so goddamned artsy fartsy? Urgh. I swear, if I start the whole leggings+skirt thing, it's time to put a gun to my head.
* Yesterday, I wrote down lines of Sylvia Plath poems that I liked while simultaneously listening to Distorted View Daily. These two things are so intrinsically wrong together that I don't know how my mind did not immediately burst into flames.
* Last.fm is amazing. As is that goddamned Imogen Heap song... christ. Vocal. Orgasm. "Come Here Boy" = download it. I have a "sex" tag for that very reason.
Last night, around 9 p.m., I threw a glee-fit. I just became... utterly ridiculous. I turned up the music on the computer as loud as it would go and danced and sang like an idiot, alone in my basement. Sometime during the outrageous arm-swinging and throat-stretching I realized that every girl out there has done this--at some point, every woman has one of those moments where she's in love with life, where she's suited with herself, where she feels like she might be the most beautiful person on earth. And we all have that connection--this longing to be loved, to share everything we're worth, to dance like a complete fool and not care. That's what this poem is about. This one spilled out in the span of about 15 or 20 minutes. A few words borrowed from "Cigarettes" by The Wreckers, and style lovingly wrenched from the pen of Sylvia Plath. Have a great day. :-D
Tortoise (The Dancing Woman's Song)
Skin shells thick like timber,
But shared parts spill intrinsic
Similarities in blood and tell
The limbs to bend.
They tell the limbs to bend in heavensent
Spells fitted to the inner
Shifting shingles of a girl's head.
Intrinsic similarities
In blood and breath--in
Its interpretation of our hidden
Intertwining veins.
"Someday, maybe somebody will
Love me like I need."
And we each sing the same
Unheeding hymn inside.
We name the things that breed
These guiltless rhymes
And make us dance, dance, dance
Until our throats run dry.
--A
* Started putting poetry up on DeviantART. I love DeviantART. God, I'm a loser.
* On a similar note, I started using the artpad at artpad.art.com to do some fun stuff in my free time. If anything turns out well (or if I ever finish a piece), I'll be sure to link it up like crazy... it's so much fun to play back the process once it's finished. God, if anything makes me want a Wacom tablet, it's that. They're only about 85 dollars... who knows, maybe I'll get one as an X-mas/birthday present for myself. When did I start becoming so goddamned artsy fartsy? Urgh. I swear, if I start the whole leggings+skirt thing, it's time to put a gun to my head.
* Yesterday, I wrote down lines of Sylvia Plath poems that I liked while simultaneously listening to Distorted View Daily. These two things are so intrinsically wrong together that I don't know how my mind did not immediately burst into flames.
* Last.fm is amazing. As is that goddamned Imogen Heap song... christ. Vocal. Orgasm. "Come Here Boy" = download it. I have a "sex" tag for that very reason.
Last night, around 9 p.m., I threw a glee-fit. I just became... utterly ridiculous. I turned up the music on the computer as loud as it would go and danced and sang like an idiot, alone in my basement. Sometime during the outrageous arm-swinging and throat-stretching I realized that every girl out there has done this--at some point, every woman has one of those moments where she's in love with life, where she's suited with herself, where she feels like she might be the most beautiful person on earth. And we all have that connection--this longing to be loved, to share everything we're worth, to dance like a complete fool and not care. That's what this poem is about. This one spilled out in the span of about 15 or 20 minutes. A few words borrowed from "Cigarettes" by The Wreckers, and style lovingly wrenched from the pen of Sylvia Plath. Have a great day. :-D
Tortoise (The Dancing Woman's Song)
Skin shells thick like timber,
But shared parts spill intrinsic
Similarities in blood and tell
The limbs to bend.
They tell the limbs to bend in heavensent
Spells fitted to the inner
Shifting shingles of a girl's head.
Intrinsic similarities
In blood and breath--in
Its interpretation of our hidden
Intertwining veins.
"Someday, maybe somebody will
Love me like I need."
And we each sing the same
Unheeding hymn inside.
We name the things that breed
These guiltless rhymes
And make us dance, dance, dance
Until our throats run dry.
--A