Stella won’t ya take me home

 (I have no title for this)

When I am old, I will eat

whatever I want. Cake, french fries,
cookie dough, three french hens, two turtle
doves and a
partridge in a pear tree
they will not buy me a
(unless I request one doused in syrup
for a light
heavens no!, I intend to roll, like a
bowling ball with a face
down the hallways
to wherever my next meal is
I shall pass serenely
well fed and satisfied
to rest, not in a grave befitting the
but a crater
I’ve been thinking about the whole “Fat American” stereotype.  and poverty.  Also the elderly, because of course that is my job.


Everything Ain’t What I Used to Know

haven’t listened to Emery in a while… probably because I only listen to super chill music these days.

this thing called art is really dangerous – agnes-cecile

I wrote a poem which I find mildly hilarious, shall post it tomorrow.


you are done up in
deep blues, purples
faded ocher
a nebula of bruises and
scar tissue

cue the fade, following this eventual

life is :

letting yourself be torn in half,
setting fire to your prison
thirty stories of glass and concrete and
contrived combustion
wax wings soaring too close to the sun
lunging at the

eyes blazing, drunk on the mayhem
body burnt beyond recognition

I still don’t particularly like the last bit.  I will perhaps come back and change it when I think of something better.  I started this off thinking of a burlesque dancer (the whole done up in blues and purples bit) but it ended up being more about fire than anything else.

(who wants to live forever anyways?)

I’ve been on a canoeing trip in the boundary waters for the past week.   Oh hey!  you wanna see a meteor shower your best bet is anytime after 11:59 PM on the eleventh… basically super early the morning of the 12th

Also!  I moved into my new apartment which is sort of a huge deal for me.

And!  A song for you