*
*
Home
Help
Search
Login
Register
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
Oct 23, 2014, 07:44:01 AM

Login with username, password and session length
Search: Advanced search
658126 Posts in 9262 Topics by 3396 Members Latest Member: - vlozan86 Most online today: 44 - most online ever: 494 (Jul 01, 2007, 02:59:53 PM)
Pages: 1 ... 35 36 37 38 39 [40] 41 42 43 44 45
Print
Author Topic: Get to know your fellow LPtJ readers!  (Read 106372 times)
0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.
sashwap
Registered user

Posts: 1316


« Reply #975 on: Jan 13, 2007, 06:34:59 PM »

Name: dan
Age: 24
Three Bands you like: frog eyes, guided by voices, joanna newsom
Favorite movie: the last good movie i saw (in this case, the muppets take manhattan)
Favorite book: the one i'm currently reading (as of right now, one river by wade davis.)
Favorite comic strip: calvin and hobbes
Which goonie would you want to share a studio apartment with? never saw goonies! ha!
Skills/hobbies: photography, illustration, music
Skillls/hobbies you wish you had: the ability to motivate myself and be a success
Last CD you bought: i think the r.e.m. best of the irs years
Was it good? yeah, but i've heard it all before
Favorite poem: the jabberwocky
Best popsicle flavor: banana. rare but good.
Favorite instrument: i guess guitar...
Favorite word: flense
Favorite word for kiss: smooch
Picture:
this is the most recent photo of me. it's a self-portrait with my high school mascot, taken because my mom is moving and i wanted to document -- before my ties to the town are cut -- that my school mascot was a grape.
Logged
Greg Nog
Registered user

Posts: 21629


« Reply #976 on: Jan 13, 2007, 08:33:02 PM »

That's excellent!  Previously, all I'd associated sashwap with was "Cup Castle".  Now I will also associate him with a warrior grape.
Logged
RavingLunatic
Registered user

Posts: 6408


« Reply #977 on: Jan 13, 2007, 09:44:13 PM »

Quote from: "jebreject"
though i actually put homage to catalonia in this thread


Isn't that an Orwell book? I read that one a couple years back. It was pretty interesting but your favorite book? I thought it got kinda boring sometimes.
Logged

I will meditate and then destroy you!
jebreject
Registered user

Posts: 27071


« Reply #978 on: Jan 13, 2007, 10:14:51 PM »

Quote from: "RavingLunatic"
Quote from: "jebreject"
though i actually put homage to catalonia in this thread


Isn't that an Orwell book? I read that one a couple years back. It was pretty interesting but your favorite book? I thought it got kinda boring sometimes.


Dude, it's a first-hand account of the Spanish Civil War!  Told by a guy who fought with POUM!  It rules!
Logged

I'm not racist, I've got lots of black Facebook friends.
RavingLunatic
Registered user

Posts: 6408


« Reply #979 on: Jan 13, 2007, 11:53:20 PM »

Maybe you're right. I remember being totally depressed when I was reading that book. You can never really trust an opinion of mine on music or literature because my moods have fluctuated so much (though since getting pain medication I've been doing super well for the last month and a half!).
Logged

I will meditate and then destroy you!
mountmccabe
Registered user

Posts: 2844


« Reply #980 on: Jan 14, 2007, 12:55:00 AM »

Quote from: "girl"
Quote from: "plainenglish"

Favorite book: Sometimes a Great Notion, Ken Kesey


Woo!  

If pressed for a definitive answer, this is mine, too!  The first time I read it, I had almost no idea what was going on for almost the first hundred pages. Then the changes in narrator and time suddenly clicked for me, and it was a joy to finish.  I've probably read it ten times since then.


I think I have a new next book to read.
Logged

You know a pancake?
Andrew_TSKS
Registered user

Posts: 39426


« Reply #981 on: Jan 14, 2007, 02:17:02 AM »

Quote from: "RavingLunatic"
Maybe you're right. I remember being totally depressed when I was reading that book. You can never really trust an opinion of mine on music or literature because my moods have fluctuated so much (though since getting pain medication I've been doing super well for the last month and a half!).


that's great news. i really hope it keeps up. i worry about you dude.
Logged

I just want to be myself and I want you to love me for who I am.
Sing The Children Over
Registered user

Posts: 1210


« Reply #982 on: Jan 16, 2007, 04:01:39 AM »

Name: Rob
Age: 28
Three Bands you like: Steely Dan, John Denver, Loudon Wainwright III.
Favorite movie: Naked, Stroszek, Peeping Tom, Made in Britain, Profundo Russo, The Last Laugh, Five Easy Pieces, Kiss Me Deadly....I could go on.
Favorite book: I couldn't possibly name one, but recently I've enjoyed The Double by Jose Saramago, Clock Without Hands by Carson McCullers and I keep re-reading parts of Out of My Comfort Zone by Steve Waugh.
Favorite comic strip: Calvin and Hobbes
Which goonie would you want to share a studio apartment with? Why would anyone want to share an apartment with noisy children?
Skills/hobbies: I make soup okay.
Skillls/hobbies you wish you had: I'd like to be better on the lofted straight drive, and to be able to read faster.
Last CD you bought: It may have been that Nelly Furtado single Say It Right.
Was it good? Yes.
Favorite poem: Too hard to choose.
Best popsicle flavor: Pineapple.
Favorite instrument: Piano I suppose
Favorite word: I had a real jones for 'cathedral' for awhile.
Favorite word for kiss: Kiss
Picture:


I should state that that is not me in the photo as 1)I'm not a doctor 2) I'm not Martin Donovan pretending to be a doctor. Apparently I look like Martin Donovan -though I only kinda see a resemblance- and that's all you'll get out of me.
Logged

The almighty dollar it ain't what it used to be.
Good Intentions
Registered user

Posts: 13882


« Reply #983 on: Jan 16, 2007, 04:10:06 AM »

Quote from: "Sing The Children Over"
Why would anyone want to share an apartment with noisy children?

Sing The Children Over, Then Tell Them To Fuck Off?
Logged
alex
Registered user

Posts: 6287


« Reply #984 on: Jan 16, 2007, 04:15:41 AM »

Quote from: "jebreject"
Quote from: "RavingLunatic"
Quote from: "jebreject"
though i actually put homage to catalonia in this thread


Isn't that an Orwell book? I read that one a couple years back. It was pretty interesting but your favorite book? I thought it got kinda boring sometimes.


Dude, it's a first-hand account of the Spanish Civil War!  Told by a guy who fought with POUM!  It rules!


Totally! Just wanted to stress that, since Jeb didn't put enough emphasis behind his statement! The greatness of this book requires a few more exclamation marks!
Logged
alistarr*
Registered user

Posts: 8129


« Reply #985 on: Jan 16, 2007, 04:15:48 AM »

bada-bum!
Logged
Sing The Children Over
Registered user

Posts: 1210


« Reply #986 on: Jan 16, 2007, 04:25:14 AM »

Quote from: "Good Intentions"
Quote from: "Sing The Children Over"
Why would anyone want to share an apartment with noisy children?

Sing The Children Over, Then Tell Them To Fuck Off?


Well played sir.
Logged

The almighty dollar it ain't what it used to be.
alex
Registered user

Posts: 6287


« Reply #987 on: Jan 16, 2007, 09:08:46 AM »

I'm bored and I never did this before, so:

Name: Alexandra
Age: 23
Three Bands you like: Elephant Micah, De Kift, John Tilbury (not my favourites - hard to narrow it down to three - but the first three I wanted to put down here)
Favorite movie: I don't really do movies. Um, The Life of Brian?
Favorite book: I feel obliged to say Homage to Catalonia, so as to not contradict my statement earlier today. And, you know, I could live with that. Other picks that I could definitely live with: If on a Winter's Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino, Liquidation by Imre Kertesz, Doktor Faustus by Thomas Mann, countless others.
Favorite comic strip: all-time: Asterix. currently: Dinosaur Comics.
Which goonie would you want to share a studio apartment with? I don't know the Goonies, but I take it from other people's replies that one of them is called Data. Is Data anything like the one in Star Trek? If so, that one. If not, can I just move in with the android one?
Skills/hobbies: I've been making a lot of mix CDs lately. Some of them turned out real nice.
Skillls/hobbies you wish you had: some kind of sense of rhythm or melody would be nice, I guess. Speaking Hungarian.
Last CD you bought: the "Modern Containment" series from Three Lobed Recordings.
Was it good? I haven't even listened to all of them yet, but the Wooden Wand and Kinski CDs are definitely great. Everything else seemed nice so far too.
Favorite poem: Probably Rilke's Stundenbuch (esp. the first book, and if I really have to narrow it down to one poem, maybe the one starting "Du, Nachbar Gott..."), but I'm not sure I am comfortable admitting that in public. Paul Celan's Sprachgitter or Todesfuge, maybe?
Best popsicle flavor: lemon-raspberry
Favorite instrument: Guitar, tabletop, tabletop guitar. Also, piano, prepared piano.
Favorite word: luchtfietserij (which is Dutch and literally means "cycling in the air", the closest translation is probably "building castles in the air". But, you know, the Dutch term refers to bicycles, and bicycles are cooler than castles.)
Favorite word for kiss: Kiss is quite good, really. Better than anything my own native language has to offer, anyway.
Picture:
Logged
jebreject
Registered user

Posts: 27071


« Reply #988 on: Jan 16, 2007, 09:20:09 AM »

Alex rules.
Logged

I'm not racist, I've got lots of black Facebook friends.
Doctor Bob
Registered user

Posts: 2882


« Reply #989 on: Jan 16, 2007, 09:41:44 AM »

Join the queue, jeb. :wink:

Also, I think I have a new favourite word.  Gotta love the Dutch.
Logged

Yowza. Things happen when you go outside!
Nick Ink
Registered user

Posts: 7018


« Reply #990 on: Jan 16, 2007, 10:33:49 AM »

Name: Nicholas Francis John
Age: 38
Three Bands you like: Only 3! Er, right now : Black Dice, Animal Collective, Broadcast
Favorite movie: I'm not a big film buff, perhaps Delicatessen?
Favorite book: Nights At The Circus by Angela Carter
Favorite comic strip: When I was little I liked 2000AD and the sheer flights of imagination in things like Judge Dredd, Strontium Dog etc. but I haven't read a comic strip for a long long time now. Oh, except Raymond Briggs' things. Do they count?
Which goonie would you want to share a studio apartment with?: I don't know what a goonie is, I'm afraid. I'll say the tidiest one.
Skills/hobbies: Shockingly few. Really. I just read a bit, listen to music a bit, and do stuff with my kids. Let's see, there must be something. I can juggle a bit, but who can't? Speak schoolgirl Korean (really should be better though, all things considered). Oh, yes! 20 years of smoking have left me able to perfectly replicate the voicover to the original trailers for Wolfen! Beat that!
Skillls/hobbies you wish you had: It's getting to the point where I need to learn to drive, for practical reasons. I wouldn't mind being able to play drums, but my arm gets sore if I drum my fingers for too long.
Last CD you bought: Machinefabriek's Marijn.
Was it good?: Oddly addictive droney static. I think it's fair to say it's not for everyone.
Favorite poem: Something by Tony Harrison. One of the ones about his dad, i think. Long Distance or Bookends. Actually, it's right here on the shelf next to me. I'll try to copy it out without bursting into tears :

Long Distance

I

Your bed's got two wrong sides. Your life's all grouse.
I let your phone-call take its dismal course:

Ah can't stand it no more, this empty house!

Carrots choke us wi'out your mam's white sauce!

Them sweets you bought me, you can have 'em back.
Ah'm diabetic now. Got all the facts.

(The diabetes comes hard on the track
of two coronaries and cataracts.)

Ah've allus liked things sweet! But now ah push
food down mi throat! Ah'd sooner do wi'out.
And t'only reason now for beer's to flush
(so t'dietician siad) mi kidneys out.


When I come round, they'll be laid out, the sweets,
Lifesavers, my father's New World treats,
still in the big brown bag, and only bought
rushing through JFK as a last thought.

II

Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her travel pass.

You couldn't just drop in. You had to phone.
He'd put you off an hour to give him time
to clear away her things and look alone
as though his still raw love were such a crime.

He couldn't risk my disbelief
though sure that very soon he'd hear her key
scrape in the rusted lock and end his grief.
He knew she's just popped out to get the tea.

I believe life ends with death, and that is all.
you haven't both gone shopping; just the same,
in my new black leather phone book there's your name
and the disconnected number I still call.

Best popsicle flavour: Orange
Favorite instrument: Hmm, all depends who's playing it, doesn't it? I've been quite into piano the last two years, but the guitar has still been responsible for more musical pleasures in my life than any other, I think.
Favorite word: Collywobbles
Favorite word for kiss: Just 'kiss'. Great word.
Picture:
Logged

Seest thou what happens, Laurence, when thou firk’st a stranger ‘twixt the buttocks?!
edison
Registered user

Posts: 4837


« Reply #991 on: Jan 16, 2007, 11:12:44 AM »

Quote from: "Doctor Bob"
Join the queue, jeb. :wink:

Also, I think I have a new favourite word.  Gotta love the Dutch.



For the record, I would like to state publicly that I knew Alex ruled llloong before y'all did. (What, that's petty?  :wink: )

Plus, she rules harder than you can even imagine!
Logged
alex
Registered user

Posts: 6287


« Reply #992 on: Jan 16, 2007, 11:24:55 AM »

Would you guys stop making me blush/smile, please?
Logged
alex
Registered user

Posts: 6287


« Reply #993 on: Jan 16, 2007, 11:26:27 AM »

also, Nick, that picture is incredibly sweet, and the people who don't like that Machinefabriek album are missing out.
Logged
Nick Ink
Registered user

Posts: 7018


« Reply #994 on: Jan 16, 2007, 11:27:59 AM »

Quote from: "alex"
also, Nick, that picture is incredibly sweet, and the people who don't like that Machinefabriek album are missing out.


Thanks! And I forgot that you were the other person here who mentioned Machinefabriek.

I was going to comment on your picture, but I will desist, lest you expire of an excess of erubescence.
Logged

Seest thou what happens, Laurence, when thou firk’st a stranger ‘twixt the buttocks?!
alex
Registered user

Posts: 6287


« Reply #995 on: Jan 16, 2007, 11:38:39 AM »

Quote from: "Nick Ink"


Thanks! And I forgot that you were the other person here who mentioned Machinefabriek.

I was going to comment on your picture, but I will desist, lest you expire of an excess of erubescence.


I believe Bubbachups has been talking about Machinefabriek too, but yeah. One of the first few tracks I heard was actually on that fantastic drone mix you posted a while ago - did I ever even thank you for that? I still give it a listen from time to time and have checked out a few things on there, so thank you, excellent work!

And wow, what an alliteration.
Logged
Nick Ink
Registered user

Posts: 7018


« Reply #996 on: Jan 16, 2007, 11:43:32 AM »

That's great that you enjoyed that stuff. The drone-love is slowly spreading its tentacles around LPTJ!
Logged

Seest thou what happens, Laurence, when thou firk’st a stranger ‘twixt the buttocks?!
irrationale
Registered user

Posts: 14


« Reply #997 on: Jan 16, 2007, 03:07:39 PM »

Name: Emily
Age: 21
Three Bands you like: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Explosions in the Sky, Grizzly Bear.
Favorite movie: Science of Sleep
Favorite book: 100 Years of Solitude
Favorite comic strip: A Softer World, Dinosaur Comics (I made a shirt with one of T-Rex's one-liner's on it and Ryan North gave it a "five out of possible five stars."  Take that.)
Which goonie would you want to share a studio apartment with? Um, I never saw that movie.  I had a dark, deprived childhood.
Skills/hobbies: Classically trained violinist (10 years), Super-Nerd, Pretty good at Surfing and Tennis
Skillls/hobbies you wish you had: I wish I were published, already.  Does that count?
Last CD you bought:  B.M.R.C. - Howl
Was it good? YES.
Favorite poem: It's long, but please read because it's fucking amazing.  And because I had to type it all out by hand since it isn't online.

Big Blue Sky and Silent River
by Alan Gillis

Earth a world of stone and woe,
world of stone the earth below;
earth the world of stone echoes,
stone the earth and world also.

Or so you might think as you go
on your rounds through the town, just a stone's throw
from the skirting groves and the hillside's upheaval,
where the river runs through whin burns and hazels.

Cars carousel the hillside's winding hide,
bearing pink pyjamas, white horses, testaments and brides.
A brother picks his nose with his sister's toothbrush;
she rests her feet on his Xbox, the royal flush of her toenails drying; and on CCTV
a roadsweep is caught catching some ZZZs
below the jamboree of pennants, along the alleyways and turnpikes,
where everything is lime and gin, teracotta-lite.

Except for you.  Eyes to the ground in designer estrangement,
piping-up on the skunk with glowing agents
in the greenhouse, its higgledy-piggledy tomatoes,
you slabbered on the cobwebbed and gritty Amaretto
that you tea-leafed from a closet at a consolation party,
where no one wanted in your pants and you chundered waxed spaghetti,
meatballs, onion, Guinness and a strangely glowing corncob.
And now, to cap it all, you had to find a job.

You found work in a factory where the engines howled
and your workmates scowled with knuckle-fucked jowls;
where you clocked in, supervised by a clipboard Stalin,
Brylcreem lathering the collar of his sheepskin;
where you became apprenticed to digital power
and dined in a canteen caked in grease and flour;
where the tea was Burmese and the calendars dick-teased,
and you sucked the smoke dreaming of Vladivar and coke.

After you were fired, being considered a safety risk,
you found work in an office where you were barely alive,
tip-tappity-tapping on a flat-packed desk,
obsessed with the efficiency expert's No. 5,
where the files to be sorted with a fine-
toothed sigh ate into your lunch,
into a 'voluntary' overtime
entered into the hard drive's deathless crunch.

And all the boys were drinking and downing
juiced and trolleyed, swimming and drowning
in Powers and Ladyburn, ouzo and Armagnac,
kvass, aguardiente, Smithwick's and applejack.
And all the town was a halflit-sloshpit-ginbath of a bar
where you got banjaxed and blootered with Brahms and Liszt,
blitzkrieged and bladdered until your eyes became the mist
that blocked the sky and the insatiable stars

which said: the alignment of Venus
suggests today will be a good day
to cast off the past and begin anew.
Seek out that special someone for a rendezvous.
Act kindly if you happen upon a stranger.
Tread carefully, you are in much financial danger.
Life at work will reap much satisfaction.
Everywhere may you find some strange attraction.

Around about that tie, dilly-dallying home,
she jerked a jug-jiggling move
to her Sony Walkman's remix of a riff by The Edge,
and old Wylie's heart almost leapt out of its bones,
as his tractor somersaulted the shock revelation of groove,
just as your Honda
crashed through the whitethorned hedge,
straight towards harmony and the stars.

Purling bubble, bouncing down the country lane
at summer noon, the glinting river gargling
with springing salmon, bombinating bumblebees,
chirpy birds cheep cheep, and far-off tractor thrum;
bouncing by the trees, to try to tempt her to your bubble,
you saw her fair hair, which simply sent you to the fair,
you kissed that fox-like smirk and teased those nibble-dish ears,
while the auburn fluffy fuzztail of a squirrel chased its nuts.

The glimmer-shimmer-shine of dew droppity dew drops,
dropping off the juicy leaves, left you drinking from
her breast-like nectarines.  She had said that she'd be there,
and her hips were threatening to drive you round the bend
to see her smiling, as her ringlets bounced and dazzled
off her sunrise flower neckline, and she spun around
to motion her fruit-gum lips in soft surprise.
And you were paralysed in the marina of her eyes.

So you took her out in your Honda,
with its car-seat covers made of rattle-
skin hide, and drove past the groves to wander
through whin burns and hazels, curbing your tittle-tattle
to study her curlicues, the rhyme of her breath, which complimented
the popple and papple of the river's vibrations,
the crow's-feet of her eyes as she squinted
at the cumuli, their thin-veined striations.

Around about that time
you took to drinking with Big Willie Hooks,
who had a bottomless trove of dirty videos and books,
but had lately renounced the hierarchitectitiptitoploftical sublime.
You mostly spent your time chawing on nachos
and Guinness in Mexican-
Irish theme bars, contemplating non-macho
erotica and the enigma of women.

And when you walked with her, you walked into vespers
and dusklight, below the lapwing's ululation
and the indigo sky, losing yourself to the signatures
of the river, its phantom syncopation,
pouring unction and cantatas in the chalice
of her ear; amid viburnum and hawkweed,
you'd roly-poly and clunter and grasp at her knees
in the well-tilled graveyard, its gossamer and malice.

The pepper was in the salt shaker, black in white,
the dark within the light, as you sat at a table for two,
the centre and the satellite.  'It would be great
if it could be kind of loose and tight,'
you told her, both actor and playwright.
Then a waiter ended your wait and brought you coffee,
disdain, and desserts to suck and bite,
your latte looking dated beside her latte light.

Big Willie recounted the disaster of being caught in the act.
Stripped to the waist, his upturned arms surrendered, and the Baltic cataracts
trickled right down to his hairless pits, while the surrounding groves
embedded beauty with the precision of the clothes
catalogues in which she'd unleafed herself,
almost down to her forbidden groves of hair.
Behind the master, a comrade pulled off the air,
an image, for Willie, that wouldever play with itself.

When she finally made a beeline for your bed,
your numberless nights were almost numbered,
as you tried to enter the crunch of her head
and the sardonyx of her eyes, the amber
of her pelt, her thighs' riverbed,
swinging your huckleboned rumba
on the buttermilk cotton of your bed,
until the morning found you, wildly encumbered.

Around about that time you asked her why all
that diazepam was necessary which she kept under her bed
that slightly jingled and she answered enigmatically, for instance,
that the images in your head are an illusion
that imply impressions that limit knowledge
that fails the wits that betray desires
that end in death
that riddles existence.

There were times when you felt you could rip through
the night, that the hug-me-tight
leather of thenight
would unzip and pour you
an Absolut vodka and lime,
as you drank in the calamine
and hairspray, the darkshade and tubelight,
your eyes big-widened screens of skybright blue.

She said goodnight sweetheart, it's time to go
where the sky is always blue and you can't hear
the river because the river always flows
in time with the constant atmosphere
that half-forms and tingles the mind and throat,
in measure with the tree shade and the tambourine leaves,
the crow-picker's lustration of the whiskey-tinctured eaves,
and not the flimflam and jissom of these indifferent notes.

You wrote: 'Send me a postcard of everything
I'll never see.  Send the Berlin Philharmonic
playing Saint-Saëns No. 3.  Send me
Poema del cante jondo and the Death of St Valentine.
Sent pharmaceuticals, Crave by Calvin Klein.
Nobody here is dancing.
Please send instructions for screwing
someone else's head onto me.'

Big Willie said when God was handing out heads
you must have thought he said beds,
and asked for a big baroque number
with a cool, cast-iron finish.
He produced a bottle of chilled Buckfast wine
and one of his redoubtable Jamaican Woodbines.
You smoked and drank until your eyes were apple-red.
She'll end up in a river, he said.

In your dreams her eyes mellowed into milk
and Kahlua,
and she plunged the queen-size sea of her silk
bed like a dolphin, dancing hula-hulas
until you awakened to a sky of ocean blue,
drunking volcanic water with Tesco's Finest Earl Grey,
as yellowhammers loitered in darkgreen bridleways,
on a screensaver that stayed the night for you.

On other nights you writhed in the dankness of your bed,
a writhing seedbed of termites
that chawed on your eyeballs, on your fetid cheese head,
welting you in the molar crunch of the night,
melting you to corpse juice and meat rot,
death bones and finity and forget-me-nots
igniting you from toe-tip to head,
a red-whipped bushfire of wild-lipped love bites.

Big Willie said the feeling would pass,
as you left him to drive through the grove paths
under an inconstant sky: chameleon grey and greengrey,
carrot, heather, mushroom and ivory,
almond green, lavender, peach-bloom and jasmine,
khaki-flecked, claret, oyster pink and citron,
constantly changing from dove to duck-egg-speckled
quilted in caramel, biscuit, petrol blue and gunmetal.

You parked to walk by the river, initially in time
with the bubble and rush of its fishcale lather,
but soon you were lost in the bluegrass pantomime
of slurp and bebble and girny-gab glissando,
stopped short by its doo-wop, its pizz-popping jingle-jangle,
its velocious surface of calypso ripple-current
puggling in a torrent in a billow-warped refrain,
yammering to rigadoons of light vibronic rain.

You turned away to climb the hillcap,
where the river couldn't reach, through the feverfew
and agrimony, the submarine shit slaps
of snuffle-steaming heifers, where the ash and ember
coloured town, its diminishing corrugations,
fumed below the landfall and vapour trails,
and you looked up where the spoilt sun yoked the sky,
to see if you could see through her cool marine eyes.

You saw a death toll carved in the middle road,
the numbers zip-filed, downloaded holes in the night,
where peace bombs slept behind the schoolyard fence
and cadavers flared their teeth in self-defence;
watched over by satellite,
you took a heavy-booted saunter through demeaning fields
into twilight's velveteen, where the sky became lychee,
the sun's head served on the platter of the sea.

Some day you would wake and find yourself dead
by the river, by the multi-tasking trees,
zephyrs rubbing salt into your hardboiled head
beneath a big blue sky, collapsing to the sea,
the river, river, easing through your bones,
turning to the town, at last, with ghost-drafts
of wisdom, breathing 'Blessed shall they be
who give your children grass instead of stones.'

The choir of the night will intone for her
along the bounds of her impossible river
where the dead release their vectors
and you anthologize sky-changing eyes
turning to boundless, gazeless blue
through awakening windows in the town
with its turnpikes, its interlocking sectors
under a sun-smirr, coming silently down.

And so you tumbled down the hillside lurching
hither and thither until you finally ran aground,
where you awakened to feel your head without touching
on the outskirts of town, and you found,
beneath the big blue sky, a river flowing into sound
among whin burns and hazels, never to know
what might be benamed and behappened below
the still breathing sky, where the river runs its round.


Best popsicle flavor: Red.  It's too artificial to be cherry or strawberry or anything, it tastes like RED.  And I like it.
Favorite instrument:  Cello.
Favorite word:  throat
Favorite word for kiss: smooch
Picture:


apologies to anyone who's sick of these posts, but I'm new and figured I'd introduce myself.
Logged

does he know?
Nick Ink
Registered user

Posts: 7018


« Reply #998 on: Jan 16, 2007, 03:13:17 PM »

Whoa! You typed all that out! That's amazing dedication to the cause.  8)

I'll definitely have to come back to that one!
Logged

Seest thou what happens, Laurence, when thou firk’st a stranger ‘twixt the buttocks?!
das kranke Tier
Registered user

Posts: 5894


« Reply #999 on: Jan 16, 2007, 03:14:37 PM »

Hey, Emily!
Logged

Compendious as hell
Pages: 1 ... 35 36 37 38 39 [40] 41 42 43 44 45
Print
LPTJ | Last Plane Forums | Departure Lounge | Topic: Get to know your fellow LPtJ readers!
Jump to:  

Powered by SMF 1.1.19 | SMF © 2013, Simple Machines
Board layout based on the Oxygen design by Bloc