What What What What Are You Doing?

I notice that if I write something in Word, it feels different once I put it on my blog with the background picture... and I don't know if I should just not have a background picture so it stops feeling weird or not, because there are some things that feel weird to not be associated with the background... hmm....

My Sea

_____“Now. Just do it now,” He said. He put his hands on her shoulders and bent his head.

_____“I’ll never tell,” She stepped back away, “Anyone.”

_____The closet door slammed in his face, and the wood creaked in circles where she paced. She opened it, to find again just an old wool jacket and rubber boots. The only remnants of it that no one would ever need to know.

An Experiment on Sleepiness

Sleepifiednations of blueberry waffles on stacks of white bridges and frankincense flowers:
Just under the doorstep there sat a young boy, with a hat in his footstep and shiny silver toy.
"Now, see me hear this," the boy said so dearly, "No pennies to waste but my mum's hat old Beesely."
For only a seventy nickle and pound, a white crinoline dress was unfolded upside down.
With fluffy seem of fluffy seams, no dolly can part with a belted garnish.
Sitting still stiller, an orange and pear, no doorbell for ringing or knock knock to hear.
Windows in logs, with rot on the sides, watch little young children and greatly old brides.
No danger in wood shop or floral six prints, or books in white satin and a maid's hip.
No tea yet for boiling, but water aplenty, no sun for rock pulling or farmland for smelting.
Lacy blue button-ups and furnished old phones - cars are just hungry, in their weathered rusty bones.

I was falling asleep in my chair while chatting with someone, and typed all of these lines without thinking much. I said whatever came to my head - and when sleepy, it's anything - and connected thoughts in any way. I may try out some more of this later on, because it's actually quite interesting to know what I think about before I fall asleep, even if I don't know it at the time. Semi-conscious writing, anyone?

Sometimes I think I must be the only one who revels in it once I get into a bad mood.

On Invisible Roads (revision)

There aren't so many things in life to be glad about as there are things to pass by.

Sometimes it is so that we steal the illusion that passing by such things will make us glad.

More gladness can sometimes be found in misery than by passing misery by and losing it all. Eventually we reach into ourselves and embrace the misery as a new sort of gladness. A gladness in that tears don't let us heat so much when we're inside the heat and pressure of the Earth and the fire around us that we're made new. We taste salt on our tongues, and we revel in it.

On Invisible Roads

There aren't so many things in life to be glad about as there are things to pass by. Sometimes it becomes so that we steal the illusion that passing by such things will make us glad. More gladness can sometimes be found in misery than by passing misery by and losing it all.


Thoughts become the most clearly muddled when depressed.