Whatever difficult thing I am, I won't apologize for.
Creepy guest room. Blue comforter. Looking at a painting and knowing that the models are really, really dead.
Seeing them see
the TRUTH.
Oh, poisoned well of humanity.
I can only think of ways to say that I can't think of a way to say it.
Working on a short film but it's at the stage where I can't tell if I hate it or not. Imaginary rave afterparty and/or real hotel room phantasm. Slow progress on everything. Thunder or fireworks? Thunder.
Another downpour. The taxidermy hallway in high school.
Cleaning. Rearranging.
Confetti 2: Unburiable ("Not ready or not proper to be buried.").
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Peach clouds, mirrored. Bad DJ. I'm tired.
"Watching words humorless."
"Rabies vaccine."
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Abstract painters born after... I don't actually know when he was born but I think he moved to Michigan.
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Sad disconnect, wanna watch TV?
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Sometimes I think about words too much.
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The word "purchase."
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Guiltless pixels against a wall.
Absolution. Employment law.
We ran through corn fields. It was probably 50 degrees out. My skin was pink and burning cold. My lungs hurt. It's totally whatever. Her Air Force birthday party, I have no ill will, but it all feels like a teen slasher sorta. Like scrambling the lyrics to "I Hate Everything About You." Friday night lights I never saw. "Some things last a long time."
Dusty forgotten note pads in boxes in the basement. An everlasting moment movie scene. Pitch black tape loop warbles and the wet dead leaves shiver. Field after fence after field after fence. Drudgery ghost in soaked boots collecting shadows. No fire can warm this. No trespassing. The death of twee. Olympia underwater.
Sick of this millennial curse.
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One of my cameras spontaneously circuit bent itself and then spontaneously un-bent itself. It's an old, cheap digital point-and-shoot so it's not surprising that it breaks occasionally.
A hand holding a receipt and a box of pills.
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(Things picking at skin things picking at brain things picking at things atop things picking on things.)
Nag champa memories.
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Hackberry milk.
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Honesty, honestly, the world can feel too small. A lack of context ruins the big picture. A very large picture. So big you can't see the edges. Still, the world can feel too small. I'm sure I've always misunderstood the concept of magical currents.
Air purifier white noise/notes. Pollen and insects criss.x.cross. Thistle seeds float together. Strict practice. Solid schedule. Jam packed. No exit.
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