How another would describe me: music junkie, lover of well-stitched cardigans and well-placed sighs. A persistent meddler that seems to move their legs, but never left a footprint once.

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sigh, people;

April 22, 2024
I miss what was with this particular person.  The conversations that were seem to have lost their floral headpieces. Probably because of me (because I’m critical like that), but I really don’t want to see it that way. I refuse to see it that way. People can just be so dry, so boring, so unfeeling...
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Recent Entries

  • might as well give the whale a wristwatch;
    April 20, 2024
    I am half built. Feeling self-slighted, blind with X’s over eyes. Not wholly [holy], and not whole— I can’t seem to contain quality; can’t seem to adjust to big change, polish big ideas or establish big emphatic elements of progress. ­ Been obsessed with the idea of fair play, or lack thereof, si...
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  • non-discursivity;
    April 16, 2024
    Spent the last few days, like a dedicated server, dabbling in primarily Jazz and R&B—some groovy joints and heady, outdated lyricism— and for the first time in a long time I truly felt what is meant by feeling in non-discursivity, almost taking me back to the days of Bertrand Russell and Witt...
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  • I’m not listening;
    April 16, 2024
    They could be listening from straight roads in t' Kabel. They could be listening from next door. In a lot of ways I don’t know me. I’m 3,973 words into the new year (starting now)— hardly triumphant.  Thought I’d have more to spill, more surface to brush, like an archeologist or detective: brushi...
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  • one to one;
    April 13, 2024
    Nobody but me in here tonight And maybe tomorrow, too Probably the next day And further on until there’s a definitive You can call it Rolling reality, unmistakable For anything besides that which Is no longer turntable speculation; Future handing over eventuality to present And giving it stage No...
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  • asking or playing God;
    March 19, 2024
    Ports and portholes and holes of ports; part of my view hidden in sight, looking forward.  Meanwhile, I’m finding my own retrograde incomplete, mixed within the light.  Am I, or are we, beginning a foundation like cold hands stacking hard stone?  What should I build? I’ll build eternity if it mea...
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  • 1/2;
    March 19, 2024
    Fortunately, I’m preserving this. Half of the sound got donated to silence. The other half is pronounced like a fissure; it bangs dumb, it bangs drum, bang: a hum. Pensacola, from the beach, and then I’m transported to Southern California on the sweat of another banging drum, ­ on another beach, ...
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  • Lame of God;
    March 17, 2024
    Hard to do anything nowadays and be remembered for it Let alone feel it Unless you’re making $25 million off the box office premier, Murdering 20 people at the supermarket, Or becoming president, VP, or Secretary of Defense And making the saber rattle. At one point you could take pride in being a...
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  • and there it is again;
    January 19, 2024
    An inward crouch:— & in keeping still in that moment where the liquid turns solid as stone faces, and leaps away like a cougar from a pouch. I’m referring to my thoughts, yours—the enrollment that signs its name deeper than bone; ­ fingering through the chunky marrow matrix of mind where the ...
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  • deities, drunken & sober;
    January 16, 2024
    It’s two pots o’ coffee a day when I’m fixin' to put the booze down, more or less working up another appetite to make quick work of the chaos and order, then making another aerial plunge diagonal and down to rungs deeper than previous. ­ And as is pretty much the case that when the…
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