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pretty, silly things: Coffee and Cigarettes.

http://prettysillythings.blogspot.com/2012/07/coffee-and-cigarettes.html

Monday, July 2, 2012. She sat atop layers of messy blankets, sheets. And watched him with hands curled behind her knees, tightly. To try and harness heat and sweat inside of her palms. To prove to herself that she wasn't dying as he. Stuffed records, ties, a few books, clothing into a laundry basket. Laid a wrinkled grey suit on a hanger over the top. Paused at the Otis Record. Left it. I'm disappearing he said. Like you asked. Don't pretend you're a magician. She's been dreaming of strange days.

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pretty, silly things: A new name for everything.

http://prettysillythings.blogspot.com/2010/09/new-name-for-everything.html

Wednesday, September 8, 2010. A new name for everything. It's in being cross-legged,. That I find where I have changed. The act of being here being enough. The tracing of my own fingers. On my own skin. In my own home. On my own terms. My own new reality. That I expand every day -. And contract to squeeze out those things. That don't seem to fit. It's in the careful decisions,. I know things, it turns out. September 27, 2010 at 9:48 PM. This is just great. February 13, 2011 at 1:10 AM.

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pretty, silly things: cataract.

http://prettysillythings.blogspot.com/2011/04/cataract.html

Friday, April 29, 2011. The cataracts of winter. Which had so firmly threatened permanence. On the eyeballs of the citizens of the great white north. Are dissolving, now. Our paces quicken, and yet we linger in the rain. Because this is a new kind of precipitation. One that does not shock the skin,. But jogs the memory. And when feet find each other beneath blankets. And in warmth, softening of skin, lengthening of muscle. These muscles, which had wrapped themselves so tightly around my bones.

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pretty, silly things: R.I.P.

http://prettysillythings.blogspot.com/2011/08/rip.html

Friday, August 12, 2011. I Love. It. Of course I do. Miss you, lady. Keep posting! Everything you share is gold. August 12, 2011 at 7:53 PM. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Maritime Fun With Cap'n Guthrie. Parcell Press Zine Distro. Tuba Playing Made Easy. Richmond, VA, United States. The other half of me while shine all night, defined by the eclipse. View my complete profile.

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pretty, silly things: Terrible penpal and a hopeless packrat, but I mean well?

http://prettysillythings.blogspot.com/2011/07/terrible-penpal-and-hopeless-packrat.html

Friday, July 8, 2011. Terrible penpal and a hopeless packrat, but I mean well? Each time it's summer. I want to toss all of my belongings out of open windows. And make the active decision. To allow each thing inside again. To feel the weight of these things-. To feel the consequence of keeping. I am a better editor now, it is true. In my 10 years of adulthood. I have bought and sold a home. I am 28. I have seen things fall apart,. And I knew which things could be salvaged. And I'm terrible at writing back.

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pretty, silly things: Here Comes the Flood - Part Two

http://prettysillythings.blogspot.com/2011/10/here-comes-flood-part-two.html

Sunday, October 2, 2011. Here Comes the Flood - Part Two. Here i am now, in cooler, unfamiliar climate -. With calmer winds that no longer have the strength to lift me off my feet,. Carry me away to something new,. With all valuable things tethered to something unmoving,. And thus protected,. I find myself, again, preparing for the rush of water that comes with impending flood. The lines of such constant rising, receding. Show clearly in the space between my eye and ear -. At the thought of your silence.

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pretty, silly things: Who cares what you ate for breakfast, anyway? (melon)

http://prettysillythings.blogspot.com/2010/08/who-cares-what-you-ate-for-breakfast.html

Saturday, August 14, 2010. Who cares what you ate for breakfast, anyway? The narrative of communication. Has become embarrassingly straight forward. And what room is there for metaphor? When we check in with everyone so frequently that there is no longing. Or deprivation of information. Sometimes I think Best has it right. When she falls off of the map. For weeks at a time. Leaving a trail of question marks bouncing in her wake -. Reigniting the idea of intrigue. How much time do we have to evolve,.

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pretty, silly things: Last known Photo

http://prettysillythings.blogspot.com/2011/10/last-known-photo.html

Saturday, October 22, 2011. In an attempt at bribery. My parents bought me a puppy. A motivation to stop screwing up. The first night,. I slept on the linoleum floor of our New York kitchen with him, and we both whimpered a little-. He because he missed his mom, surely. At the time, I didn't know why I was sad, but in 8th grade, who does? That night we made a deal:. If I would hold him, he would listen. This morning, all of my secrets died with my loyal confidant. There is nothing poetic about endings.