I think I’m falling in love” — Bottled in the Cork by Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
A PICTURE JOURNAL
Doubt is such a tense word, everything about it shrinks your mouth into the grimace of a ‘yuuuuuu’ and the pucker of your cheeks. Why should doubt exist? It should go die in a fire. No, it shouldn’t. Loaded words have a micro-library of historic texts, and you don’t burn books.
How sweet is the gradual swell, the faint smell of summer breezes? I want to eat the sun.It’s a restless anxiety for freedom, where the weight of rain melts away… people are coming out of their caves and prancing about! Customers colonize in lines at Haagen Daaz and Molly Moon’s (ginger ice cream is my friend), and the streets start feeling like a neighborhood again. Too bad I’m never invited to those Greek barbecues. I can help them finish some food.
I think I’m allergic to incense, but I burn it anyway. It keeps my place from smelling like the hallway. And I do not want to smell like This Hallway. It’s a molecule salad of random stranger lifestyles. Overwhelming, to think of who you share oxygen with in the immediate vicinity. But then again, that makes me sound like an asshole.
The ceramic cat is a caricature of Muffin, to whom I will always endear her menopausal disposition and honor her neurotic cattiness. Made by Say Ro Ro. Isn’t it so cute? The bottom is a muffin cup which I keep goodies in.
Lying on docks. Half of the year they’re unbearable, and the best time to go visit is the cusp of summer– not as many irritating, screaming, sand-flinging packs of hyperactive child-creatures.
Is it still acceptable for me to climb trees? I used to stay in the tree for hours and get scared when the huge oaks creaked and crackled in the wind, but I’d have to hold my post until I absolutely had to go in for whatever reason, and the familiar crouch in the niche of branches made me safe, invincible. Awesome. Kick ass. Did I ever mention that I also used to carry a to-scale wooden sword publicly? And to grocery stores?
That is me.