January 2010
31 posts
Y A R B
i’ve started, in earnest, another blog. yes, another. the goal of this new blog is to give a place to speak in my normal, non-arts focused voice. a place to run things up the pole and see what shakes out, to reblog interesting stuff, to just dump all that extra brain sludge that comes from being kicked off facebook and having no one to really discuss things with anymore. so with that in...
sometimes i don’t know what i’m doing. or why i’m doing it. sometimes i’m surprised by the outcome. sometimes i’m wrecked.
“Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through...”
– Ellen Goodman (via kari-shma) (via quote-book) (via thanksforstanding) (via fringesofmind)
there is no loss, only change.
h i n t e r l a n d e r
i walk this cold quiet like it’s dead skin. cautious. observant. this path is worn before me, behind me. there was life coursing through here once. i smell the sweet stink of it. the pungent urgency of human need hangs long. now though there are only strings of white frost, the crack and thrum of winter river, and the hollow lost echo of my own footsteps. i am wedged uncomfortable between...
“religious rapture has[had] long since given way to aesthetic rapture..”
– julian barnes - nothing to be afraid of
we can live in fear of losing the things we love, or we can love the things we love, but it’s near impossible to do both.
i want to narrow so fine, so slight, so focused, my view that all i can see without the full turn of my body is your hips, tiny lines of code heavy with elegance and creativity, and staggeringly beautiful pockets of light come captured through expensive german glass.
l o v a b l e
you can try to meet hate with deference. or calm. or patience. you can try to meet small dark untrusting hearts with openess, weakness or triviality. you can ignore, avoid, or disregard. you can fetter here and there wasting time or energy on small people with small agendas thinking small thoughts.
or you can confront hate with hate. heat with heat. and allow the beauty of violence to discharge...
What goes on in here, doesn’t concern you.
sometimes an eye closed must be a kinda peace. sometimes.
what makes you think you deserve love at all?
w a t e r
as we pretend our way through this mock spring things start to shift, come loose. things frozen—maybe unexpectedly—begin to move again. the warm center of your back starts to itch. your legs are restless and destruction seems like too much work. the sharp smell of snow melt wraps cold against you; a promise of recreation. you grow heavy with yourself and january sun just lights up...
new site
since i no longer use facebook i need more online weight to tie my to my chair, so i’ve added one more pointless website to the stable:
incoming.ruzz.org
where in i post any interesting little bits the world throws at me. sexy texts, overshares in email, twitter dm’s that are above and beyond.
I find myself in the unique position of a guy surrounded by interesting people, highly...
thinking changes nothing.
experience reshapes everything it touches.
can’t seem to mine enough beauty to keep the bosses from killing off the workers.
i already miss status updates.. perhaps the cleverness will pool in the hallows of my mind and explode in some meaningful form.
facebook kicked me off. argh.
something always starves.
Your dying in minuscule increments. Your Heart grows colder, weaker. The fight lays before you, taunts you. You’ll chase the smoke right up to the fire, but will you let it burn you, outlive you, overcome you? you should know by now that thinking about burning is not burning. That weighing and measuring is not abandon. That talking is no more doing than watching is being. This is not...
I’m so tired of pain.
“and we might die from the medication, but we sure killed off the pain..”
– bright eyes - lua
“i just felt like destroying something beautiful.”
– fight club.
the quiet clack of knife meeting solid. smells of dark soils and cut potatoes. thinking about your body.the dark january night. it’s threats to put out fires with hard cold gusts. exploding and folding in, at the same time. unable to quench this. my bone is scoured and my heart gone black. can’t count the costs anymore. can’t watch the light leave the room one more time. january...
