May 2011
3 posts
Watchmonchatnoir:
James Blake - Lindisfarne
Watchdanieloughran:
what 2009 sounded like in my bedroom
April 2011
2 posts
How
does one delete all ones posts without deleting ones account? One must…
January 2011
13 posts
December 2010
9 posts
August 2010
8 posts
Rough extract from 'Those Primary Colours'
- And if I have wept, amidst the grime of emotion, it has been while I slept.
For I have not knowingly shed except on the quiet seat, harbouring the turd of my bread diet. Those tears are unavoidable. I come across them three times a week. And yet, for all their familiarity, they are never the same. From tear to tear never one as the other. And I, overcome in the struggle for my own...
1992-1997:
Guys treat me awfully.
awfully good. feel lucky.
danieloughran:
makes u wanna jump up and down...
July 2010
7 posts
olivespoir:
On the subject of Meditation
olivespoir:
Flying with my thoughts
June 2010
7 posts
...continued
She inhaled then opened her mouth. I saw the greymalignant cloud. I cursed her for destroying my body. I had never spoken to her but it was my body. I had allowed myself to own it. I deserved as much. She was ripe. Silly horse destroys his field with repetitive walking. There was an excuse, if any, to lie still. How I was feeling that grey cloud. She gave my blood a stir while stealing my breath....
This is what I wrote today (no name)
He told me he had been free all his life. Was that true? He believed so. I quizzed him. He said he lived outside systems. Can you not be free within a system? Not at all, he said. He reinforced. Not at all. I brought his attention to the thing he was polluting me with. Surely your body is the most rigid system you can live within. You have reason, he said. I felt like apologising. No I didn’t feel...
This is how I create first-date tender sexual...
First date - crisp sandwiches on a bench. I will flick off the pigeon shit. We can put plastic bags down if it is wet. I spy. Maybe a game of ‘Curbsies’ (if you don’t know what that is then don’t even bother, probably). I’d let you have the wee broken bits in the bottom of my packet of crisps - unless they are smoky bacon. Then, when we have the thirst, cans of coke...
The Face of White Noise
Frank stood before the wooden door through which he knew he must enter. It was the door to the room of confessions; all that had been said and all the actions that had been carried out were locked under oath, never to leave the room, but they would be confessed to him. Every detail the room had once swallowed would resurrect itself and drip from its lips like blood dripping from the sores of lost...
The Face of White Noise
On another occasion, a day in the summer that had passed before last, he had been invited to tea on the terrace of a cafe. It provided an opportunity to extinguish all his yearly politeness in one disgusting act. The perfume of those in whose company he sat had nauseated his reasoning, but the birds in the surrounding trees had whistled a prism into the air and the light had split within it,...
The Face of White Noise
It was a Friday at the peak of spring. Frank Shaw had passed the more pleasant part of the afternoon at his desk. Evening had not fully arrived but a chill had combined with the air and entered his room. His stationary activities had brought a stilldeath to his toes. This in turn had led to thoughts of a passionless blood stifling his veins like the stagnant waters that fill the swamps of hell....
May 2010
9 posts
