if, as oscar wilde said, the basis of optimism is sheer terror, then what is the basis of its polar opposite? probably the same fucking thing.

Um,how adolescent is it that I get Catharsis lyrics stuck in my head at work when my boss pisses me off?

“So lest we fall out of lust for life, let us risk all we have to risk…For only a fool, only a fool would cling to this world as it is.”

My hand is merely a tool which is operated by remote control. It is not my head which functions there but something else, something higher, more distant, somewhere. I must have powerful friends there, both dark and light. -Werner Schmalenbach

today i will try to feed the good wolf. the bad wolf is getting greedy and fat.

Love’s Stratagems

But these maneuverings to avoid
The touching of hands,
These shifts to keep the eyes employed
On objects more or less neutral
(As honor, for the time being, commands)
Will hardly prevent their downfall.

Stronger medicines are needed.
Already they find
None of their stratagems have succeeded,
Nor would have, no,
Not had their eyes been stricken blind,
Hands cut off at the elbow.

By Donald Justice

you defrost salmon like you defrost a limb – with cold water not hot.

what wild things you bring.

there is a high wall along the back boundaries of the zoo. if you have nothing to pay, like me, we can scale the wall, hang from our long arms like monkeys, and drop to the ground, landing on tiny wrists or scraped up knees. We wander around the outskirts, until we see up ahead a large rock formation. We stare into a dark hole in the rock expectantly, our eyes wait all eager at the edge of the cave. And after a long enough time, out will come.. ghost tigers.. we will marvel at their bold black stripes, their snow white or perhaps glass-like translucent fur, their powerful legs and necks, tall teeth, their ice blue eyes with smooth drops of periwinkle added, and that steady gaze into. our human monkey eyes.. Rooaaaaaarrrrrrrrr.. we scramble back up over the meager chain link fence. and look back. in reverence.

and we never even enter the zoo.

i’m not dreaming i’m telling the truth

25% ghostwriter
25% skywriter
the other 50% of the time i will spend writing in my sleep.

(i don’t mind sleep so much as you, i suppose because
in my sleep i still move..)