it's cheap, nasty orange juice. i am wary of my tea cup; i came to work this morning and there were traces of mold starting to grow on the surface of the tea i'd left there for a few days.
i'm listening to more xiu xiu. i love falling in love with bands who have back catalogues to trawl through and dig into and hide under and wrap around yourself until you are buried. new album presents to myself every other week. i'm trying to not download illegally as much as possible, especially music i love. there's not really a justification, morally for how it can be ok to do this. i can afford it on my Librarian Pay.
my hands are covered in small cuts from a broken light bulb. there's cheese on the floor at home; a candelabra on a Give Way sign on the floor, and a melted wax pile on the carpet in the middle of the room. we've got more side-of-the-road furniture - the house slowly filling with things found, others detritus gathering weight in our living space.
i am losing all sense of perspective. it is hard to see what is close and what is accessible, and what is realistic and what i've imagined now. it could be all impossibilities or i could be sitting on a landmine, or a goldmine... but it does not change, oh no, impossible things, it does not change.
No comments:
Post a Comment