(no subject)
how is it that a week already has gone past since my last post?
did i do anything?
aside from the placebo show, no. i have been lost in a world of fascination - reading dracula (for the first time), argentine poetry (in its original language, which i know not - but i refuse to read translated poetry), and immersing myself, in particular,` with all things medieval. fascination street.
a week has past in a blur of words. torture devices (iron maidens, my favorite), witchcraft, the art of crazed christianity, limestone, night night night fog and rain. which has also been simultaneously manifesting in the atmosphere that surrounds me.
bats in the belfry. listen, gothic music snatches me with its iron talons and i lay in a car on the side of a dead end road in boston, but far far away. i decide to pledge 75 of my inexpendable dollars because i enjoy the difference. i want to be able to travel from boston to france on monday mornings from 6-8am. just this afternoon i spent in india, wondering at the elasticity of vocal chords and the singularity of american popular music. secretly, though, i've always desired a home in germany. better, eastern europe somewhere - romania, hungary, bulgaria, czech republic, ukraine, slovenia. languishing in bleak atmosphere, oppressive architecture, unknown language, relative poverty and a looooong bloody history that nobody remembers.
did i do anything?
aside from the placebo show, no. i have been lost in a world of fascination - reading dracula (for the first time), argentine poetry (in its original language, which i know not - but i refuse to read translated poetry), and immersing myself, in particular,` with all things medieval. fascination street.
a week has past in a blur of words. torture devices (iron maidens, my favorite), witchcraft, the art of crazed christianity, limestone, night night night fog and rain. which has also been simultaneously manifesting in the atmosphere that surrounds me.
bats in the belfry. listen, gothic music snatches me with its iron talons and i lay in a car on the side of a dead end road in boston, but far far away. i decide to pledge 75 of my inexpendable dollars because i enjoy the difference. i want to be able to travel from boston to france on monday mornings from 6-8am. just this afternoon i spent in india, wondering at the elasticity of vocal chords and the singularity of american popular music. secretly, though, i've always desired a home in germany. better, eastern europe somewhere - romania, hungary, bulgaria, czech republic, ukraine, slovenia. languishing in bleak atmosphere, oppressive architecture, unknown language, relative poverty and a looooong bloody history that nobody remembers.