I’m in a group video chat with 3 others - Click to watch or join: http://tinychat.com/r7msv
PBR and records. I’ve become a parody of myself.
Painting: Odilion Redon’s Ophelia Among Flowers
We would on wood planks sit at the edge of larva pools
Watching the flights of mosquitoes escaping the filth and film
Because as Basket people we’d do as Basket people do
And sit and pretend we had interest in interesting other things
Even the newborn mosquitoes’ virgin
Up by lime green frogs
Sitting in apprehension and doing as Basket frogs do,
Pretending to have interest in interesting other things.
I resent being labelled as Morrissey. I’m my own person. My own person.
Last night I drank absinthe (Hill’s) the parisienne “bohemian” way (what a show, what a production). I laugh because absinthe alone tastes like death and any method (bohemian, fauxhemian, whichever) that dilutes it and makes it tolerable works for me. Also, I did not see the green fairy. Though I did see a Morrissey and a guy that looks like an angel.
L’Absinthe (1876), oil on canvas, Musée d’Orsay, Paris | artwork by Edgar Degas
Caged in a cradle of mangled car limbs, a baby blue blanket waits to be cut free.
Clicking tocks, and wall clocks were all I had last night. Grappling greedily with moaning sheep, I yelled ‘Come stay a while, and bounce over my head’, but they all ran in the opposite direction of my bed and I was left with tottering hands instead.