→ 14 May 12 at 7 am “This is a marketing holocaust, 24 hours a day for the rest of our lives. The powers that be are hard at work, dumbing us to death. So, to defend ourselves, to fight against assimilating this dullness into our thought processes. We must learn to read. To stimulate our own imaginations. To cultivate our own consciousness. Our own belief systems. We all need these skills to defend, to preserve, our own minds.”

Carl Lund, Detachment - 2011

“This is a marketing holocaust, 24 hours a day for the rest of our lives. The powers that be are hard at work, dumbing us to death. So, to defend ourselves, to fight against assimilating this dullness into our thought processes. We must learn to read. To stimulate our own imaginations. To cultivate our own consciousness. Our own belief systems. We all need these skills to defend, to preserve, our own minds.”
Carl Lund, Detachment - 2011

→ 13 May 12 at 12 pm Josie traipsed to Smokin’ Joe’s, a bar down and round the corner from her second. No, fouth apartment. Josie lives on the other side of town now, but this is the only place that plays any Talking Heads. She knows the barman too - Joe, not of the smokey variant, and he knows her; gin and dash. Cucumber. Josie takes her same seat by the edge of the bar close to the small boxy dance floor. There’s Casper; he sits at the far end, alone at a table for two. Josie’s thought about sitting with him once or twice, but started thinking about a ghost inhabiting the second seat. Hence the name. Then there’s Lolita & Martin. They’re the slow dance lovers. Once Martin went to the toliet and Lolita started to rub Josie’s leg with her foot. Winking and hinting. Avoid. Two Tequilla Sunrise’s sit at their table, unattended as they waltz to a song that’s too fast. “I know this little place across town” Joe said weary, hopeful, as he rubbed at the spilt beer along the bar. ‘This Must be The Place’ came on and Josie ignored the offer, dancing alone instead.

Josie traipsed to Smokin’ Joe’s, a bar down and round the corner from her second. No, fouth apartment. Josie lives on the other side of town now, but this is the only place that plays any Talking Heads. She knows the barman too - Joe, not of the smokey variant, and he knows her; gin and dash. Cucumber. Josie takes her same seat by the edge of the bar close to the small boxy dance floor. There’s Casper; he sits at the far end, alone at a table for two. Josie’s thought about sitting with him once or twice, but started thinking about a ghost inhabiting the second seat. Hence the name. Then there’s Lolita & Martin. They’re the slow dance lovers. Once Martin went to the toliet and Lolita started to rub Josie’s leg with her foot. Winking and hinting. Avoid. Two Tequilla Sunrise’s sit at their table, unattended as they waltz to a song that’s too fast. “I know this little place across town” Joe said weary, hopeful, as he rubbed at the spilt beer along the bar. ‘This Must be The Place’ came on and Josie ignored the offer, dancing alone instead.

→ 07 May 12 at 11 am Molly, 9, leaned against the white picket fence, draping her attention towards the red wooden frame of the house. The white door was mirrored by two white window frames; and a third window, in a half-moon, floating above. The wood sprang and bounced during it’s early days. Floor boards creaked with joy, halls rang out with laughter, cracks appeared like the dimples of the sons and daughters it was built to protect. But as she looked closer, creeping beyond the pickets and the blades of grass to the front door of the unusually empty house - she realized for the first time in her life that colours bleed. Wood rots. Blood spills. Skies dull and she never gets to ask why.

Molly, 9, leaned against the white picket fence, draping her attention towards the red wooden frame of the house. The white door was mirrored by two white window frames; and a third window, in a half-moon, floating above. The wood sprang and bounced during it’s early days. Floor boards creaked with joy, halls rang out with laughter, cracks appeared like the dimples of the sons and daughters it was built to protect. But as she looked closer, creeping beyond the pickets and the blades of grass to the front door of the unusually empty house - she realized for the first time in her life that colours bleed. Wood rots. Blood spills. Skies dull and she never gets to ask why.

→ 29 Apr 12 at 1 pm Jason fell, scattering his marbles all over the pavement; bouncing and fading across the black concrete they looked like galaxies spread out against the black facade of the universe. He sat up and held his knee, bloody and bruised, and began to cry.

Jason fell, scattering his marbles all over the pavement; bouncing and fading across the black concrete they looked like galaxies spread out against the black facade of the universe. He sat up and held his knee, bloody and bruised, and began to cry.

♥ 2
→ 14 Apr 12 at 3 pm On the coast of Le Havre was Yves - a boat-man. Proud and jolly he was loved and liked by many. As these type of things suggest, he came from a long line of seafaring men. You could say boats were in his blood, and alot of the time his blood was on his boat; swishing and swashing on the deck like red wine going down an ex-lovers neck. You see, Yves was unlike any other boatman in history. Captain Ahab searched for great whales and Horatio Nelson would hunt men, but Yves, Yves killed Mermaids. He and his crew used great big webs of rope and Yves would slit their throats as they hummed a slow sad song. Some say he was paying devoirs, others say he was heartbroken and bitter, Yves never said - he just smiled and hummed a sad slow song.

On the coast of Le Havre was Yves - a boat-man. Proud and jolly he was loved and liked by many. As these type of things suggest, he came from a long line of seafaring men. You could say boats were in his blood, and alot of the time his blood was on his boat; swishing and swashing on the deck like red wine going down an ex-lovers neck. You see, Yves was unlike any other boatman in history. Captain Ahab searched for great whales and Horatio Nelson would hunt men, but Yves, Yves killed Mermaids. He and his crew used great big webs of rope and Yves would slit their throats as they hummed a slow sad song. Some say he was paying devoirs, others say he was heartbroken and bitter, Yves never said - he just smiled and hummed a sad slow song.

♥ 1
→ 01 Mar 12 at 2 pm Montana and me

surrounded by genteel ocean floor

sat gazing at the sun

model velvet black

an’ we laugh as

it rips and tears apart

revealing the pale skinned stars.

Montana and me
surrounded by genteel ocean floor
sat gazing at the sun
model velvet black
an’ we laugh as
it rips and tears apart
revealing the pale skinned stars.

→ 20 Feb 12 at 11 am Sometimes leaves fall close to the tree, settled and confident of where they came. Other times, they may fly far due to exceptional circumstance. A Hi-5 from friends not seen in years, a window lifted to a serenade, doors eek’d open for potential lovers and slammed by doomed others. It may cross continents and blow the world over. However, whatever it does and whoever it sees it almost always wishes it were a rock. Steady and still, consistent, constant and unwavering.

Sometimes leaves fall close to the tree, settled and confident of where they came. Other times, they may fly far due to exceptional circumstance. A Hi-5 from friends not seen in years, a window lifted to a serenade, doors eek’d open for potential lovers and slammed by doomed others. It may cross continents and blow the world over. However, whatever it does and whoever it sees it almost always wishes it were a rock. Steady and still, consistent, constant and unwavering.

→ 14 Feb 12 at 7 am For Erin & Margot

Drunk, hot & bothered Hleisa (lee-sa) sat upright with a revelation, a slight tour de force: ”Silence, you know? There’s no meteors in this thing, we’ll just wake up and every song will be sung and every story will be written,” It was a warm breezy day in June and they were on the garden Jack had grew when they had first moved in together: it was on the roof of their city apartment, he thought of it as their own little jungle in-which they could get lost; surrounded by great concrete waterfalls frozen in time; he would record earthquakes in a straw hat and she would be the cause in her emerald dress. He remembered the first time she smiled at him and how he was still feeling the tremors even now. “No crash or bang, no big deal. The end of the world. Imagine that. ” she took a sip of her bud and retired back to the sun and the airplanes painting in the sky. Only for you, only for the schisms themselves he thought.

For Erin & Margot
Drunk, hot & bothered Hleisa (lee-sa) sat upright with a revelation, a slight tour de force: ”Silence, you know? There’s no meteors in this thing, we’ll just wake up and every song will be sung and every story will be written,” It was a warm breezy day in June and they were on the garden Jack had grew when they had first moved in together: it was on the roof of their city apartment, he thought of it as their own little jungle in-which they could get lost; surrounded by great concrete waterfalls frozen in time; he would record earthquakes in a straw hat and she would be the cause in her emerald dress. He remembered the first time she smiled at him and how he was still feeling the tremors even now. “No crash or bang, no big deal. The end of the world. Imagine that. ” she took a sip of her bud and retired back to the sun and the airplanes painting in the sky. Only for you, only for the schisms themselves he thought.

→ 10 Feb 12 at 6 am “Sea of Lost Love”

How do you lose something omnipresent. Something precious. Every girl has a jewellery drawer, every boy has a secret stash. If Death had a girlfriend would she misplace their love with an Oops! Would her eyes change to waterfalls whenever he had to go on business trips, would she complain to her friends about how he’s never sweet enough and how his is the last hand she’ll ever hold; or, does she sneak into movies with him, joyride, wear his t-shirts, party too much, throw up, care too little, swear at her parents and wish her little sister never grew up to be like her.

“Sea of Lost Love”

How do you lose something omnipresent. Something precious. Every girl has a jewellery drawer, every boy has a secret stash. If Death had a girlfriend would she misplace their love with an Oops! Would her eyes change to waterfalls whenever he had to go on business trips, would she complain to her friends about how he’s never sweet enough and how his is the last hand she’ll ever hold; or, does she sneak into movies with him, joyride, wear his t-shirts, party too much, throw up, care too little, swear at her parents and wish her little sister never grew up to be like her.

→ 04 Feb 12 at 10 am Ciaran had found the passport in a lost and found in Kentucky. More lost than found, the country of origin had faded, no face or name, ageless. Some pages were ripped out and replaced with memoirs - An old love letter. A scrap of Disney wrapping paper. Cinema tickets to Apocalypse now. He had said it was his to the girl behind the counter, she didn’t look up from her magazine to check. He left to the click of a bell, the swirling of dust, and the august sun bent on the roof of his car.

Ciaran had found the passport in a lost and found in Kentucky. More lost than found, the country of origin had faded, no face or name, ageless. Some pages were ripped out and replaced with memoirs - An old love letter. A scrap of Disney wrapping paper. Cinema tickets to Apocalypse now. He had said it was his to the girl behind the counter, she didn’t look up from her magazine to check. He left to the click of a bell, the swirling of dust, and the august sun bent on the roof of his car.