hadn't the heart to delete this address, so here i am some time later picking at the scraps of things. It's a sunny day and I am feeling idle. I refuse to do my essay. Typing in this box i get a sense of what i did miss, the sensation of mindless exposition, rattling off neat little parcels of words into space..... I think we change from year to ( Read more... )

I won't be updating here anymore, unless one day years later I decide to. It represents a period of life I wouldn't like to erase but doesn't feel altogether relevant. As words accumulate they get dense with lack of meaning and i find it hard to maintain any clarity; looking back here embarasses me a little bit, a kind of deliberate earnestness I ( Read more... )

Yesterday I watched a film called Mister Lonely in a near-empty cinema. I was pretty excited to see it, but I didn't like it very much though it had some lovely moments ( Read more... )

( While You Were Sleeping- Elvis Perkins )

Ashley Capps

Ophelia, when she died,
lay in the water like the river's bride, all pale
and stark and beautiful against the somber rocks,
her hair an endless golden ceremony.
She made the water sing for her; it flowed
over her folded arms.

Not so my father's sister Karen,
swollen in a day-old tub of water
when they found her,
needle tucked into the ( Read more... )

At what point do we realize, sharply, the sense of disconnect, the turning-away, the tender surrender to unfamiliarity, to plain gravity, like a milk-tooth. I kept some milk teeth in a little jewelry box but looking at them now it’s grotesque and gory, horror-movie fodder, and vaguely it hurts like a phantom limb, to see a part of me discarded, ( Read more... )

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I just found out my uni has a Teddy Bear Society , but it remains elusive and provides no information. What would they do every week? Hug teddy bears? Make them? Discuss the history of plush and cotton stuffings? I'm intrigued. Maybe Teddy Bear is a euphemism for something. Maybe they just hug each other, or party with furry eared-hairbands. I ( Read more... )

Wonder why I find it almost hard to write in here anymore, to transcribe my experiences, which was the whole documentary purpose in the first place. A medium so different from an ordinary journal, with the endless propensity to be painfully frank, or else impersonal. The thing is, I'm a bad liar. Ever since I was a child I've never gotten away with ( Read more... )

The next few weeks look like they will be busy; once the Fashion show is over, it'll be less stress, hopefully just amiable clutter. Soon enough, it'll be February. So slyly segues a year into a year. Comparison is irresistible. I like to look back and somewhat smugly feel the better for my recent self, perhaps as a form of consolation for how ( Read more... )