myhandsglow

k michelson. she sailed to the moon and brushed the cobwebs of the sky.

noodle life, cont.

customer: what is flat bread?

me: it’s bread that is flat.

c: I’ll take it.

[after bringing bread to table]

c: wait. this doesn’t look like flat bread.

me: it is bread and it is flat.

c: yes, but in my mind I saw it differently.

—-

c: you can’t tell me these are fresh strawberries.

me: they are. someone cuts them fresh every day. I see them do it.

c: I don’t believe you.

—-

[boss wields plastic knife]

boss: I could kill someone with this.

me: I doubt you could kill someone with a plastic knife.

boss: you’d be surprised. you stick it right behind the ear [demonstrates] and thrust up to the brain.

yesterday

Edwin Walberg

His Rows Were Straight —

His Cattle Fat — He Hated Weeds

my hair every day.

my hair every day.

saw Midnight in Paris two nights ago with my mom. it was fantastic. inspiring, really. it was. it was beautiful. precious/beautiful, I mean. made me miss Paris something awful. really, though, as far as the inspiring bit goes: we have to remember to go where our hearts will find us.

saw Midnight in Paris two nights ago with my mom. it was fantastic. inspiring, really. it was. it was beautiful. precious/beautiful, I mean. made me miss Paris something awful. really, though, as far as the inspiring bit goes: we have to remember to go where our hearts will find us.

(via mrsmerriweather)

wet hair in a towel

have naps lately that are hard, like sleeping on sidewalk, wake up aching, dreams of rushing work, old men complaining wrinkled eyed, slurring their indecipherable names. girls with sharp fingernail polish voices, carrying trays, turning back to me with a snap of the neck to say something pithy, sarcastic.

haven’t tumbled in a while

on account of I am totally consumed with three new art projects, one involving wood, one involving clay, one involving pen and paper, 2 out of 3 involving owls, 1 out of 3 involving blondeheaded friend, 3 out of 3 involving madness.

recent funny things,

went to lit magazine launch party and introduced Kristin as “that blonde thing”

got followed/harassed by fourteen-year-old boys driving a giant Chevy

lost cat for twenty minutes in attic.

really bad at finishing a book

really good at browsing the internet

really good at running late

Nick is super mad at me today, I don’t know what I did. I think he feels neglected. Not my fault I have a job. I have dreams that I am stepping on cacti, only to wake to find of course that he is gnawing at my feet. Now he is lying on his ottoman basking in the sun. With his little white rabbit foot hanging off the side. And his white whiskers glistening. That little son of a bitch.

needs:

more folk music

more bonfires

more yarn

to learn how to knit

more bare feet

more grass for more bare feet

more full moon revelry

more full moon swoon

more dancing

more delicacy

more pictures in a book

more stories

a bicycle

my father’s laugh

some house plants