(no subject)
There was dancing in my room today. A confused dancing subject with music coming from the other room and a thing for never lasting. It told me a story about meat. About how, eventually, it all goes back to cold meat and how no-one has yet figured out what the phylosophy of cold meat is. And it smiled at me so wide, that the hole in-between its teeth seemed an abyss and I had to leave the accusations of being dead meat hanging and jeering on my walls - why did I never change the pictures? They've being here since I came and I never quite got round to redecorating my room. Things you pass by and accept are most lyable to turn into the things that testify against you. 'She is cold meat, sir, we see it every day.'
What if, on the day that you're officially recorded as cold meat, you find out that the grand total of your warm hours is but a tiny number of years?
Today all the colours in the corridor were dancing, the lightbulb burnt and the telephone and leaflets that lie on the mirror table stopped screaming, and I heard a current running, deep inside a piece of meat and the bones they had suggestions but no voice, no way to speak, and so we are here learning, learning how to seek, and so we're here, learning, learning how to swim, inside the smells, the noise, the colours, we're learning, slow and grim, we're learning how to swim.
This lad on TV the other day said that the Irish have a saying: 'Do as much as you can while you're alive, because you'll probably be dead for a long time.'
Yes, yes, on the first day of my winter holidays, I had to go home, instead of ice-skating, so as to listen to the walls. Someone put Ariel in the garbage disposal.
I want to listen to people talking, but I don't necessarily feel like answering. I wish someone could call me, do a monologue and hang-up. Someone start an arcade fire for me - I've learnt to use matches but I don;t think I'm quite good enough at it so as to do it well.
What if, on the day that you're officially recorded as cold meat, you find out that the grand total of your warm hours is but a tiny number of years?
Today all the colours in the corridor were dancing, the lightbulb burnt and the telephone and leaflets that lie on the mirror table stopped screaming, and I heard a current running, deep inside a piece of meat and the bones they had suggestions but no voice, no way to speak, and so we are here learning, learning how to seek, and so we're here, learning, learning how to swim, inside the smells, the noise, the colours, we're learning, slow and grim, we're learning how to swim.
This lad on TV the other day said that the Irish have a saying: 'Do as much as you can while you're alive, because you'll probably be dead for a long time.'
Yes, yes, on the first day of my winter holidays, I had to go home, instead of ice-skating, so as to listen to the walls. Someone put Ariel in the garbage disposal.
I want to listen to people talking, but I don't necessarily feel like answering. I wish someone could call me, do a monologue and hang-up. Someone start an arcade fire for me - I've learnt to use matches but I don;t think I'm quite good enough at it so as to do it well.