February 2012
18 posts
The trees are chirping and the wind moves softly and my busted hand makes writing difficult so I sit instead on a bench and smoke fine cigars and read Hemingway then walk closer to the river and lie on a concrete slab and stare at the clear blue sky and think about God and how the river is gently slapping the shore and I close my eyes and drift asleep and wake up and know that this is a...
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Slowly and Sweetly, Their Heads Became Peaches And...
She scrolled through the pictures on her computer. The stream of pictures was endless. She was looking for the perfect one to describe the particular thing she was trying to advertise. She took a sip of broth from the soup cup she was eating soup out of. She asked me what I was writing and I responded with, “Huh?” She repeated the question and I said, “I don’t know.”
I knew.
I was narrating...
I don’t use this as much as I used to.
It makes me a little sad.
Anonymous asked: What are your thoughts on love?
carroline asked: kdshjgfsdhfjk i love your taste in music
deejul asked: It's probably not wise to make judgments based on music taste, but I think you and I would get along just fine.
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January 2012
79 posts
4 tags
My friend's post-rock band, Concord To Seas, just... →
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Pristine pockets hold golden lockets of daughters and fathers given by father.
Precious pinstripe streaks along this wonderful street.
In a room in a room in a room in a room.