| (no subject) |
[Dec. 13th, 2006|01:56 am] |
Solar maximum is approaching. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 2nd, 2006|02:14 am] |
...
Anyhow - I sat by your side, by the water;
you taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger.
Tho all I knew of the rote universe were those pleiades loosed in December,
I promised you I‘d set them to verse so I'd always remember
that the meteorite is a source of the light
and the meteor's just what we see;
and the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee.
And the meteorite's just what causes the light
and the meteor's how it's perceived;
and the meteoroid's a bone thrown from the void that lies quiet in offering to thee.
-jn
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| spurt of thought, to be edited later. |
[Jun. 26th, 2006|10:52 pm] |
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And so it began in exactly that manner. Jules dragged charles halfway down the coast before they made a mad dash for the midwest. There was minimal in-depth conversation. There was no need to. Both understood this wild, undefinable lust to cover as much space as they possibly could. They were out for a kill, and the kill was some certain mile marker. It was as if a light switch had flipped on, both were in this insatiable mindframe ending only once a certain amount of land was covered. Recounting it afterwards, Jules would briefly wonder if the two of them were drugged, then dismiss it immediately thereafter due to the raw, passionate manner of the feeling that she was positive could not be chemically synthesized. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 13th, 2006|07:32 pm] |
I can't speak with these big, clumsy molars in my mouth.
I sit up quickly. These aren't my teeth. This isn't my mouth.
This isn't my body.
I'm looking out through mottled eyes into a hazy room. I feel... what's the word, injected. I've been injected into another's physical self. I can't move. Can I? Attempts to move my right arm respond weakly. It feels like I'm using the wrong muscles. I try some more. Sitting up was so easy. It was a snap-decision movement, that's why. I try to twitch. Successful. The lower half of what is now my body moves a few inches off the bed. I strain really hard and before I know it I'm on my feet, but not for long. The floor knocks the wind out of me.
What the hell is going on?
You tell me.
What scenario is being described here? |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 6th, 2005|04:39 pm] |
I find myself constantly travelling down Florida state road 241 in my mind.
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