talking of Michaelangelo.
Monday, November 17, 2014
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organic // 8:53 pm
... made so popular by that dumb show now.
But in all seriousness, it's a good word. Writing, it needs to be organic. Esp. where it reaches out from, I can't twist and think and create and spin words from then into something not ... organic. I wouldn't like it. I can't do it. It needs to come from a place that is natural to me, I cannot have artificiality.
"Where next?" rather than "What's this?"
When did it become this? Sad.
Hm, I need more time to think. I need more time, most of my time is spent on much needed decomposing and unraveling from the day. My toes need a stretch, they ache. I need a hot bath. Time, mostly I need time.
(Shit, I was supposed to write about V.)
Ugh, so clouded.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
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INTERSTELLAR // 10:09 pm
"Now we're just here to be memories for our kids..."
Sunday, November 09, 2014
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ode to allusions and word lovers // 6:11 pm
There are a lot of things I need to post about, it's really been awhile. The hiatus was... bad of me. Writing is supposed to be my paint, my canvas and craft but it has been like... a cut off stump in me, nothing flowing. Sadly stagnant by my own un-thinking.
"fat and complacent", only one who loves me would not be afraid to tell me this and I am so thankful he is there to tell me that that is exactly what I have become.
This post is meant to be about V for the past 5th of November that I almost missed. Thank goodness Sally never fails to remind me every year. It was necessary for me to watch it again this year, I haven't in a few years.
But to restore this blog back to its former glory (whatever glory it had), I want to start by saying how much I love words and thereby word lovers. I am a worshiper of words. People who love craft with words - wit, truths and lies with good words - they impress me. People who can speak the words that came from others mouths, I aspire to be like them, their memories are astounding to me. They make me happy and makes me love them.
Mike says he likes to allude to things esp. when others don't even catch the allusion. It's his private little joke with himself. I wish my memory was good enough for that.
So, I write again, the words in me, that I had thought were just a dead stub come alive again, like a root ready to grow, ready for new things.
Next post, on V. Won't be long, I hope.
