Dec. 26th, 2014

Rust and a vacuum to clean time. A dog in the musty basement. Catching frogs by the stream, the smell of mud, patter of light through leaves and branches. Yelling into the phone at someone. Forts made out of cereal boxes, tunnels through the snow. Riding the subway to Coney Island. Smashing the toy train with the track that flipped over. Lego pyramids. Yellow Park. Big Boy's Park became The Moon. The loft where the heat turned off at night and cold seeped in off the East River. Someone yelling into the phone at the hospital. An apartment with a dying friend. Riding the subway holding a bigger hand. A million dollar fish tank. Telling your story to strangers. Ears just below the water in the bathtub. Firecrackers and all night diners. Kissing away tears. Lighting fires in the fallen leaves. Changing the settings on the washer. Television antenna on the roof. Falling backwards, breaking arm. Little league uniform. Getting lost at the Met. Getting lost at Toys R' Us.

Calamity, invention of the heart's green thorn. Bent avenues and thistle, sap and tendril. Wasp nest, the smell of a pulp mill town. Dashi, yuzu, hitchhiking in Canada and a nude beach on Crete. Sean walking shirtless down Fifth avenue, tripping on mushrooms and drunk. Cutting school at Joel's place for an entire year. An elevator that fit one person. Contract of past promises. Staring into the refrigerator. Pickled herring in cream sauce. Inhabitants of the spiral staircase, jumping up into the hurricane. Art galleries and pocket watches. Insulin and the eye gone bad. Decay, invisible reasons. A lathe and the fragrant wisp of ebony smoke.

A story in mimeograph, an archeological dig. Trikonasana. Click here. The Hill. Sko and his civil war cap and his fat fetish. Roanne coming home from stripping. A small cardboard box to store time. Walking on a road in New Hampshire during a thunderstorm. An affair with a lesbian. Going out to play after dinner. Fireflies. An empty gelatin capsule to store your apologies. Repetition compulsion. Dander. Conference rooms and the mute button. Turning away in confusion on Houston Street. Three day ride for a sick child to get to the hospital. Green coconut as a gift. Social outings and backs turned. Trips around New Jersey with an alien.

Profile

planet_x_one

January 2015

S M T W T F S
    123
45678 910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 9th, 2025 01:39 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios