soft pedal, muffled song
listening to my brother play chopin downstairs
after he's been sitting lights out
the monitor luminous
tenchi muyo whose pixelated grace
his hibernating fingers won't match
tonight
soft pedal
because it's been years
80s is not retro 94 96 01 today is retro.
shopping: converting money into yourself
making friends: converting people into objects
reading: converting instinct into recognition
patterns: converting intelligence into instinct
professing idylls
"I've always thought of culture as the set of symbols we use to communicate with each other...it would be nice if someone would look at a gas station in the moonlight and say, 'That's pure John Adams'." (heavily paraphrased)
that chilling feeling [you get] when you consciously state a goal [for yourself]. [what goal?] library tomorrow. journalism in ten years. glasshouse [in] fifteen. a curtain blotches into existence before [your] tired eyes, [and your] hands are tied as you tense for the plummet into the future. [yes,] a plummet, not a rise. nor a flight. no, imagine your body pushed [forward] while your feet are anchored. unable to right yourself, you swoop [and floop] down and (did i mention there's no floor, just this bird-perch) your eyes capture [nothing but] color and line. [your] head [your] shoulders, [your] locked knees swing [around] upside down [then] back up [to] equilibrium. [as you flap and] whoosh [your] arms to steady yourself, you notice you're somewhere else [completely]. well, no, not at all. did i make you a little queasy though? every word in brackets is unnecessary.
that chilling feeling when you consciously state a goal. library tomorrow. journalism in ten years. glasshouse fifteen. a curtain blotches into existence before tired eyes, hands are tied as you tense for the plummet into the future. a plummet, not a rise. nor a flight. no, imagine your body pushed while your feet are anchored. unable to right yourself, you swoop down and (did i mention there's no floor, just this bird-perch) your eyes capture color and line. head shoulders, locked knees swing upside down back up equilibrium. whoosh arms to steady yourself, you notice you're somewhere else.
listening to my brother play chopin downstairs
after he's been sitting lights out
the monitor luminous
tenchi muyo whose pixelated grace
his hibernating fingers won't match
tonight
soft pedal
because it's been years
80s is not retro 94 96 01 today is retro.
shopping: converting money into yourself
making friends: converting people into objects
reading: converting instinct into recognition
patterns: converting intelligence into instinct
professing idylls
"I've always thought of culture as the set of symbols we use to communicate with each other...it would be nice if someone would look at a gas station in the moonlight and say, 'That's pure John Adams'." (heavily paraphrased)
that chilling feeling [you get] when you consciously state a goal [for yourself]. [what goal?] library tomorrow. journalism in ten years. glasshouse [in] fifteen. a curtain blotches into existence before [your] tired eyes, [and your] hands are tied as you tense for the plummet into the future. [yes,] a plummet, not a rise. nor a flight. no, imagine your body pushed [forward] while your feet are anchored. unable to right yourself, you swoop [and floop] down and (did i mention there's no floor, just this bird-perch) your eyes capture [nothing but] color and line. [your] head [your] shoulders, [your] locked knees swing [around] upside down [then] back up [to] equilibrium. [as you flap and] whoosh [your] arms to steady yourself, you notice you're somewhere else [completely]. well, no, not at all. did i make you a little queasy though? every word in brackets is unnecessary.
that chilling feeling when you consciously state a goal. library tomorrow. journalism in ten years. glasshouse fifteen. a curtain blotches into existence before tired eyes, hands are tied as you tense for the plummet into the future. a plummet, not a rise. nor a flight. no, imagine your body pushed while your feet are anchored. unable to right yourself, you swoop down and (did i mention there's no floor, just this bird-perch) your eyes capture color and line. head shoulders, locked knees swing upside down back up equilibrium. whoosh arms to steady yourself, you notice you're somewhere else.