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12.25.09 : on and on and on.

  • Dec. 25th, 2009 at 3:19 PM

[info]lovealostcause

I’m just going until I stop. Somewhere in there I’ll figure out what the fuck I am. I may just scatter into words, a big pile of fallen syllables all up on the ground, ground up, up on it, upon it. People can walk through me like broken leaves and get some of my words on their shoes and scrape their shoes on welcome mats and their welcome mats might say, “WELhiCOthereME” or if they’re lazy, I might get tracked all over their white carpets and linoleum floors. If that happened, I’d talk up to them all day and night.

“You look really nice today, this house is beautiful. Don’t change a thing, you’ve really got talent”

If I turned into words, people could walk through me and I’d crunch like so many empty beetle shells. Maybe that’s how I’d talk to them. Crunch Crunch Crunch.
 


12.25.09 : digital moleskine

  • Dec. 25th, 2009 at 2:55 PM

[info]lovealostcause
I am a fact. I am alive. That is a fact. It’s a fact because I’m thinking it. Sometimes I’m a white-lie, because I feel like I am not alive. But I am, and that is a fact. We are all facts. Since we are facts, people try and fit us into constructs or schemes or systems; but we are not meant to be that way. We are facts; solid pieces of knowledge and existence. We are more than information. We are more than functions. We are facts. And we will walk this earth until we are not true anymore.

(FACT: first entry in my mozart journal.)

12.25.09 : happy freakin' birthday Jesus.

  • Dec. 25th, 2009 at 2:46 PM

[info]lovealostcause
you are ceramic white - honey.
all of the world's prescription pill bottles, all of mine.
come on chemistry.
this is my daytime soap opera
starring me talking shit
about myself - in a change of clothes.
it's a mystery box, 20-sided die,
all the dolphins and sharks in the ocean
what's up, if no one is watching then
no one sees what you do,
not even you.