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innerfictions blog: Teddies revered

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2012/04/teddies-revered.html

Saturday, 21 April 2012. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). One Art - Elizabeth Bishop. The art of losing isn't hard to master;. So many things seem filled with the intent. To be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster. Of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster:. Places, and names, and where it was you meant. To travel. None of these will bring disaster. My last, or.

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innerfictions blog: Hello

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2013/12/hello.html

Sunday, 15 December 2013. Day Except the time it snowed. Its easy to spook yourself up here, Alone. I've been here nearly three weeks. I will go home, to Brighton, just before Christmas. No one is there either. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). One Art - Elizabeth Bishop. The art of losing isn't hard to master;. So many things seem filled with the intent. To be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster. Of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. My last, or.

postmodernkid.blogspot.com

innerfictions blog: Memory, and forgetting III

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2011/05/memory-and-forgetting-iii.html

Saturday, 14 May 2011. Memory, and forgetting III. I think I recall that", he says, as if not entirely willing to be reminded of his former, younger self. It disturbs me that he can remember some of these things about himself, but not others; that the thing's he's lost or displaced exist now only for me. If he's forgotten so much, what have I forgotten? Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Memory, and forgetting IV. Memory, and forgetting III. Memory, and forgetting II. One Art - Elizabeth Bishop. Some re...

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innerfictions blog: Memory, and forgetting II

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2011/05/forgetting.html

Saturday, 7 May 2011. Memory, and forgetting II. I really enjoy forgetting. When I first come to a place, I notice all the little details. I notice the way the sky looks. The color of white paper. The way people walk. Doorknobs. Everything. Then I get used to the place and I don’t notice those things anymore. So only by forgetting can I see the place again as it really is.". One of my top ten favorite movies :). 7 May 2011 at 13:21. 7 May 2011 at 20:25. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). My last, or.

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innerfictions blog: passing by . . .

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2010/11/passing-by.html

Monday, 8 November 2010. Passing by . . . Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). See inside . . . Passing by . . . Crossing frontiers . . . One Art - Elizabeth Bishop. The art of losing isn't hard to master;. So many things seem filled with the intent. To be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster. Of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster:. I lost my mother's watch. And look!

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innerfictions blog: See inside . . .

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2010/11/see-inside.html

Tuesday, 9 November 2010. See inside . . . Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). See inside . . . Passing by . . . Crossing frontiers . . . One Art - Elizabeth Bishop. The art of losing isn't hard to master;. So many things seem filled with the intent. To be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster. Of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster:. I lost my mother's watch. And look!

postmodernkid.blogspot.com

innerfictions blog: Narrative IV

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2011/05/narrative-iv.html

Sunday, 8 May 2011. Chronology means the child is always narrated from a third-person perspective [ 'Isn't Chloe a cute/ugly/intelligent/stupid kid'. From Essays in Love. By Alain de Botton. Um could you elaborate? 8 May 2011 at 20:50. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Memory, and forgetting IV. Memory, and forgetting III. Memory, and forgetting II. One Art - Elizabeth Bishop. The art of losing isn't hard to master;. So many things seem filled with the intent. To be lost that their loss is no disaster.

postmodernkid.blogspot.com

innerfictions blog

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2010/12/in-pink-light-small-red-sun-goes.html

Thursday, 16 December 2010. In the pink light. The small red sun goes rolling, rolling,. Round and round and round at the same height. In perpetual sunset, comprehensive, consoling,. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). In the pink light the small red sun goes rolling, . One Art - Elizabeth Bishop. The art of losing isn't hard to master;. So many things seem filled with the intent. To be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster. My last, or. London, United Kingdom.

postmodernkid.blogspot.com

innerfictions blog: memory, and forgetting V

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2011/06/memory-and-forgetting-v.html

Thursday, 16 June 2011. Memory, and forgetting V. That was Macaulay," she said, "the historian. He just made it up after the event. The people gave it the other name years before they had any cause for weeping.". Is that the Macaulay who wrote 'Horatio at the Bridge'? I asked, trying hard to remember the poems of distant high school. Where did you say you come from? Oh," I said, startled by the simplicity or complexity of the question. "From Cape Breton". All of us are better when we're loved. Four, five...

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innerfictions blog: inside outside inside outside

http://postmodernkid.blogspot.com/2010/10/inside-outside-inside-outside.html

Sunday, 31 October 2010. Inside outside inside outside. On the inside, looking outside, inside - how do I traverse the . . . space between. Without inhabiting the outside, always yearning to be contained. Oh bollocks. Do give it a rest. . . Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Inside outside inside outside. Rainy daze . . . This weekend . . . Colour of your mind. Leaving . . . From the 59 - Orange and Green. The mundane / merely conventional signs . . . Fall into red / fall out of red. My last, or. It&#82...