The temporary Hastings thread

XPOST

Yes, but no light escapes from the other side of my line. Sometimes, unwholesome things crawl across that line, only to die and sublimate in the light.

http://chiane.tukijaverkosto.org/mlp/col_y7_sparkle.jpg

FOR EXAMPLE "FB LIKES TO SNORT COKE OFF OF DEAD HOOKERS"

VS.

"fb likes to snort heroin off of dead hookers"

JOHN, I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ONE MORE THING ABOUT YOUR WOMB.

(Also, I won't be a nurse for 3 years. Plenty of time for John to have a hysterectomy.)

Here's your birth control motivation for the day: I gave J. a mochi (someone had given me a box after a recent trip). She didn't like it. So she squished it up and smeared it all over her hands, her feet (she took her socks off to do this), and a coffee table. Argh!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Td922l0NoDQ

pocket

watch

I'm taking a take-home test and OVERTHINKING IT.

dive for dreams

dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at the wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for good likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves, since Doom
(with white longest hands
neating each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn, and (stooping
through the morning) kiss
this pillow, dear
where our heads lived and were.

Whisky breath 
        and painted; 
women 
bring me to my.
                              senses.
Prostitutes 
        and loaded; 
guns
'cause trouble is my.
                              business.

Sara, I bring you, Kate Bush lyrics that would be problematic in todays world:
The Infant Kiss lyrics by KATE BUSH

I say good night-night.
I tuck him in tight.
But things are not right.

What is this? An infant kiss
That sends my body tingling?

I've never fallen for
A little boy before.
No control.

Just a kid and just at school.
Back home they'd call me dirty.
His little hand is on my heart.
He's got me where it hurts me.
Knock, knock. Who's there in this baby?
You know how to work me.

All my barriers are going.
It's starting to show.
Let go. Let go.
Let go. Let go. Let go.

I cannot sit and let
Something happen I'll regret.
Ooh, he scares me!

There's a man behind those eyes.
I catch him when I'm bending.

Ooh, how he frightens me
When they whisper privately.

(Poor, stupid girl!)

Windy-wailey blows me.

Words of caress on their lips
That speak of adult love.
I want to smack but I hold back.
I only want to touch.
But I must stay and find a way
To stop before it gets too much!

All my barriers are going.
It's starting to show.
Let go. Let go.

(Don't let go)

Let go. Let go. Let go.

There's only so much morose self-loathing I wrote back then that I can reread without cringing mightily. The one about how my parents hated me (ha, "the one") was particularly cringeworthy; J031 actually burst into tears when she read it (she claims she was moved but I know it was because it was really fucking awful).

Some 9th grade classics of mine: "bloody cheerios" and "dead girls on roller-skates"

(I just looked the other day because I remembered a list I made of my favorite songs about chemistry when I took orgo. "Losing My Electrons" by R.E.M., for example. I had a list of 10 songs that I'd changed the titles to like that. "Head Like a Halide" - NIN. Etc. GOOFINESS!)

I liked your poems, Dan!

I love that one already.

I won't describe it to you, because...It's not really possible, and the title alone should be enough to make you wonder about the humanoid named Tim(?).
Granted, it was on MY harddrive, but we all know I'm insane.

Dan - so don't let them read it. A. and I both still talk about how we are not either of our parents' favorites; the weird part is that we are both the favorite in-laws (not much doubt in my mind there). And any person who had a sibling die would think that EXACT SAME THING. No reason to fight about it unless you yourself have no memory at all of being 18. (Admittedly, plenty of adults seem to not remember that, but you know what I'm saying.)

Fortunately or unfortunately, most of my freshman year poems are no longer extant.

(xpost to myself) I kind of want to modify that to "any person who had a sibling die when they were kids," but I'm still self-absorbed enough to think that if H. really turns out to be ill that I would still have those thoughts.

Possibly this has to do, though, with what happened when I broke my arm while pregnant. I started writing out what happened, but I don't want to get into it online. Suffice it to say that, while I'm sure my parents were very busy and all, it was pretty hurtful.