Across the Universe

What was Said (re: Across The Universe) 29 dec

d: dita wannabe is buzzing around like a bee
y:its so weird how brainwashing works even though you know its happening....
d:supernatural brainwashing?
y: regular or extra crispy??
d: by who?
y:brainwashers
d:....
y:the washers of brains
d:....
y: the laundrymen of brain.

y:the washing machine of life.

d:DYNAMO!!!!!!! (i am so profound)

(random mumbling)
d: .... mumble mumble mumble a laxative of the mouth

d:i can't wait to read this tomorrow
y:you'll be happy to know it's all spelled correctly.
d: omg, are you actually spellchecking this
y: IT MAKES ME HAPPY TO SPELL CORRECTLY

d: daphne's quote.

d:RICE PADI FIELDS FOREVER....(let me take you down to some chachat town)

y: OKAY, NO-K

y:despite what things might seem, EveryThing Is Gonna Be Alright
d:....albeit
y:that has always sounded like a name o me
d:like albert?
y: if you swap the r and the i
y: Albeit Ernstein.

d:all u nwws ia locw NS ry (daphne tries to transcribe)
all you need is love.
and art.
and language.

y:and abit of money wouldnt hurt.

d:ey must use chicago in-text leh.

Man is the cruelest animal

"Now there's that fear again"

Passion is like an incandescent flame. Impetuous youth and reckless desire.
Supress it suppress it ! For the love of God!
Frottage is better than the actual act. Fluid exchance is so passe.

Current music: Travel is Dangerous / Mogwai

Rigor mortis

I adore thee

Lady Lazarus
Sylvia Plath


I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
0 my enemy.
Do I terrify?----

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

Hello strangers

Such catharsis is induced - walking home in the rain. Solitude is not a curse if it's just for a mere hour on foot and you're blessed with the gadget to suit every mood, whim or fancy - the ipod touch.
Breeze has an affinity for perspiration and a meditative disposition.

I'm deluded into thinking that i'm traversing the labyrinthine streets of New York City again, albeit its clinical grid mapped/7th wonder of the world in terms of urban planning. God bless the Manhattan street grid system!

Humid as it may be, all you need for a long walk home is your friend the ipod and a pensive mood - fertile grounds for cyclical thought and the glorious hope of an epiphany or some sort of rapturous revelation. (Though someone special to walk you home won't hurt one bit.)

There is a delightfully jarring juxtaposition between the sublime tunes of post rock that caress my ear drum cavity and the nauseating sight that i behold during my walk back home. Garish Christmas lights and the hint of the techno remix of jingle fucking bells that somehow managed to sneak through my seinheisser ear piece. How sneaky. This place can be vast strawberry fields, only if you want it to be.

Blank, anonymous faces with kaleidoscope eyes whiz pass me. Oh the transience...

Hello strangers. They know not what I'm thinking, and that pleases me.

And thus, i become, (yet again), an exhibitionist of my thoughts and emotions in the elusive and faceless world of cyberspace

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares ( Hebrews 13:2 )

Hello strangers.Hello Angels. I'm still walking through Ghosts

Music: Radio Protector by 65 days of Static

Leitmotif

Transient manifestoes and silverfish on photographs.
Hope street is burning.
A sweet leitmotif plays on as
Angels play hide and seek

Juxtaposition is Sublime

When the jarring deafening silence confronts you
You reply with a melodious, well strung haiku

_____________________________


When faced with static silence, we are nothing but shards and smithereens of a flawed existence, a glorious train wreck on her maiden voyage to a phantom promise land.
Detesting white light and its unflattering glare that leaves nothing to imagination and ambiguity. Its unforgiving rays penetrate through the thickest smog and smoke screen. Gasping for air as your flounder and flail, your face pressed against an impenetrable thick glass ceiling.
Silence. White Light. Greatest Nemesis.