the price of bread and plane tickets

control yourself
Originally uploaded by sucitta barlow.

We ask how atoms exist, how they create the water that washes our ports of call and hither, how we can split them to see what’s inside, how we can re-arrange them to discontinue the latest brand of sickness, but how often do we consider the tiniest grain of sand as perhaps a piece of emotion? Do we think of the volatile structure when a drop of salt water drops from the eye?

I ask for travel, a pair of stamps added to the inner passport pages. I remind myself that I am standing on the edge of a bridge that I am building myself, shaking dust from my fur to cement the rocks I’ve placed floating upon the waves, and that there is an opposite shore with enough wonder to make this worth it no matter I cannot see it yet, no matter how arduous this seems, this continual collecting of government minted grains in my hair and hands. The results that came back don’t tell me that I will have blisters, instead they say “Your friends will stand by you.”

lafinjack found something enchanting today, beautiful portraits by Andrzej Dragan that look like meticulous paintings.

In return, the flickr this post is a tiny pane that looks into an example of the delightful works of Atticus Wolrab.

as well, odd music: macha loves bedhead – believe


I have a weakness for pretty. I wanted to dance tonight, move myself in ways I’d forgotten how to, grind my hips in some suggestive way and take my time remembering the swing or rather the knack to flying. My toes curl at certain media, little snippets of lonely sandscape and all of the sudden I want someone, I need someone, and it feels like I could find a little death. In my eyes are the reflection of a fictional world where people when they cry remain beautiful, obviously not anywhere I’ve ever lived. The luxurious cruise liner launches from the great shipbuilding asteroid and takes my hormones with it, a surge of warmth engulfing my heartbeat in palm sticky ways.

Korean movie night hit the little button tonight. That language switch I have, it wanted badly to be flicked. I’ll be set once I figure out how to make repeats a reliable thing. As is it’s hit and miss, more likely to miss, like everything else in bed. A very great pleasure until it isn’t, just the same as the other way around. To console me, however, from almost falling off my seat in public, I have discovered a song which rapes the seventies like it well deserves to be. It’s erasing the gorgeous fleet of ships from my head and should let me sleep without difficulties. Otherwise that sort of thing tends to be a noise slightly overpowering, an exercise in writing later and wishing I knew the right kind of self to Berlin my spray-painted mental walls.

Less out the window, my head. I turned around, knew you didn’t see me. More does a whisper like feet on a bland carpet. Nowhere again. It’s a hallway, ten steps long. I need ten such steps, strong as a dream. It was an acreage, the land I found you. A square of honesty. Wish fufillment, has it ever happened before? One a year, like a circle, I expect somehow. I will bring roses next time. Next minute, this minute, the colour of what’s under my skirt. The apple a surprise to us both. Bite, the sky will erase it. We don’t wear bands, we wear music. Tense, tenses, the letters, the words on glowing thighs. Red stains, where are you? Appearing miracles. So low this quickly, but it doesn’t apply. Gave your rules the board, the west too far away to care.

edit: as well, I have been sucked into MySpace. Add me at your inclination.