I’m not tired whatsoever, which is not helping my escalating crankiness. I want to chat with a friend, but I have nothing interesting to say or share.
I Used to Be Able to Listen to Sad Songs
but that was before they started strutting
around with billy clubs in their fists, started
kicking the backs of my knees so that I
crumpled right there on the asphalt,
their faces streaming tears all the while.
That was before they started showing me
the switchblades in their boots. Before
the twisted arms and sucker-punches.
Once, the songs slept soft beside me.
Their eyes were like the moon then
and they never closed them, so all night
I dreamed under lunar beams and woke
each morning glowing. But then I learned
that the earth is infinitesimally slowing
its spin. Then I learned that we’re born
with more bones than we die with. The songs
started growling sometimes when I wanted
to cuddle. The songs started cracking their knuckles.
One morning I caught one filing its teeth.
That was when the problems started.
Now I armor myself in hand-claps and tambourines.
I’ve honed a trigger-instinct with the radio.
But sometimes I’m walking down a boardwalk
in the safe, bright sun, seagulls dipping overhead,
cotton candy spilling from every hand,
and there they are, locking step beside me
past the ring toss, the arcade. It doesn’t matter
how fast I turn away. Hello again, they whisper.
You can’t run forever. And then I know the ocean
is there but damned if I can hear it anymore.
I often ricochet between the feeling that I’m meant for great, world changing things or I’m not going to live past 30.
Could there possibly be a happy medium between the two extremes? I would very much be open to that.
Made around the end of April/ beginning of May for Tina Connolly’s Old Dead Futures, an upcoming short story for Tor.com. Elements of this piece (the story, not the illustration) reminded me of Looper in that there-are-decisions-you-can-make-as-a-young-man-seeing-your-future-that-you-can’t-make-from-the-perspective-of-that-future kind-of way. And I love it when seemingly helpless protagonists manage to save themselves. Go read it when it comes out for Tor.com’s 5th birthday. Many thanks to Irene for always sending me the best SF!
Icona Pop - I Love It
Elsa Billgren, blogger for Swedish Elle Magazine
Elsa’s blog is: Need Help Dressing
So I started watching Girls and even though I enjoy the show, I don’t find any of the girls to be particularly likable….
Moving back home is the bottom. I mean, besides being homeless, there isn’t really anywhere lower I can go. So that only leaves up, right?
in the end
i want my heart
to be covered
in stretch marks
Eating disorders scare away your good friends.
Recovery illuminates your best ones.