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Okay. So prosety has been getting some more traffic lately, and I'd like to 'splain just what it is.
I've written all my life, but for the longest had no term for what I did most often: a weird hybrid of prose and poetry,
too stream-of-consciousness and laden with various lyrical devices to be legit prose, and too straightforward (usually)
and earthbound (for lack of a better term) to be called poetry. So about two years ago I figured out prosety.
This isn't a blog. You can visit the overhaul for that--sometimes it has some decent writing. This site, though, is a way for me to hash out my own writing in a semi-public
forum, in the effort to improve it and develop as a writer...poetess...whatever. I have no idea, honestly.
I thought about making it possible for visitors to comment on the various posts, as they can at the overhaul, but I'm a bit too fragile for that just
yet, and I also don't want to find myself (much as I did when I had a radio show) worrying "Will they like it? Will this
appeal to enough people?" so I figured I'll just operate in a vacuum for a while, and if you really hate it, well, that's an option. Or if you like it, that would be cool too.
One more thing: some of these are quotes that appeal to me at that particular moment, usually from songs or books. Those are always indicated by a reference to the author or songwriter.
Anything with no notation is my own.
So. This is my tree falling in the forest.
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Monday, July 22, 2002
what's my shelf life, baby
and how long will i keep
holding on?
how long will you remember me
the leaves i drip, drip drip wither,
shall i go on and on or
run down,
clocklike and tired
posted at 11:39 AM
Thursday, July 18, 2002
"...But as we've all come to find out, it takes more than love to keep the poison down.
Life takes you where it goes.
Confiez-moi une journee de silence."
[grant me one day of rest]
-juno.
a love song by the weakerthans:
They're tearing up streets again. They're building a new hotel. The Mayor's out killing kids to keep taxes down, and me and my anger sit folding a paper bird, letting the curtains turn to beating wings. Wish I had a socket-set to dismantle this morning. And just one pair of clean socks. And a photo of you. When you get off work tonight, meet me at the construction site, and we'll write some notes to tape to the heavy machines. Bring your swiss-army knife, and a bottle of something, and I'll bring some spraypaint and a new deck of cards. Hey, I found the safest place to keep all our tenderness. Keep all our bad ideas. Keep all our hope: It's here in the smallest bones, the feet and the inner-ear; it's such an enormous thing, to walk and to listen. I'd like to fall asleep to the beat of you breathing in a room near a truckstop on a highway somewhere. You are a radio. You are an open door. I am a faulty string of blue christmas lights. You swim through frequencies. You let that stranger in. As I'm blinking off, and on, and off again. We've got a lot of time. Or maybe we don't, but I'd like to think so, so let me pretend. These are my favourite chords. I know you like them too. When I get a new guitar, you can have this one, and sing me a lullaby. Sing me the alphabet. Sing me a story I haven't heard yet.
posted at 5:10 PM
scientific study in cause and effect
left you
got sick
couldn't stand
and then
passed on the street
second day of my health,
your words there hangin in the morning air,
remembering everything
i remember everything
20 seconds later
tire went flat
pulled off street
in front of the coffee place i hate
saw you drive by.
i changed my tire alone.
posted at 2:28 PM
its a directional pull
engendered and hauled on over the shoulder
our army corps of engineers
is on the task now yes
diverting rivers
drying seas
but i still feel those waters for you,
they've got my veins
a runnin hard stream into the blood yeah
a jack and whistle blow gun into lungs
to wake me up and
still my soul.
Which ways to go in life?
never was a leaver
now the currents' got my feet and damn
how she pulls a bite a yank deep on the toes
draggin me along
a gypsy hot run it hits my head
then draws me down, red thread tied to wrists
and makin me follow a flute into nowhere, no
id like to stay but oh
who's in charge here
who's in charge?
and me watchin your blank slate breathless, your blue screen, yeah I've seen it, and oh how it makes me sick with nerves brittle shaky and heartachy with loss.
posted at 12:20 AM
Sunday, July 14, 2002
I
Would
Ask
You
To
Wait
But you know how it is
That's the wrong thing to say
Isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
posted at 10:10 PM
there are
no
words
posted at 1:47 AM
Tuesday, July 09, 2002
atlantis
downtown glendale has cinderblock bricks aligned and rigid, bringing walls into shape,
a crystallized mondrian structure cellular and hard to
focus
yr gaze and see right angles and
all the people in this bank are from some other nation,
somewhere I'd consider exotic,
and think lamely of minarets and strong coffee and jeweled lanterns
hanging over places that dont really exist, not really at all
the way each little city and town
decides its story for itself
c'mon chamber of commerce
you know I love a good portrait painted,
you know i love a word with a ring to it,
the way we've all decided we are from the west,
west of what? the world is round
we rush about daily dazed and tired not knowing why,
i grind myself lower and lower in this worn path,
seen etruscan stones the size of boulders forming corners at base of ancient churches
that used to house something else
on mountaintops.
no different, no different than these cinderblocks
meaning nothing, nothing, nothing
sound and fury all
we are so much
posted at 2:08 PM
Wednesday, July 03, 2002
"to be the one,"
ryan adams
[heartbreaker]
well the pills i got, they ask me let's go out for a while
and the knives up in the kitchen are all too dull to smile
yeah and the sun it tries to warn me,
"boy those wings are made of wax"
while the things i do to kill me,
they just tell me to relax...
but oh cinderella
all dressed up in all your boots and all your charms
i’m not the fellow
to protect you
or to keep you from all your harm
and i don’t know which is worse
to wake up and see the sun,
or to be the one,
be the one that’s gone
and the empty bottle it misses you
yeah and i’m the one that it’s talking to
and with you and i just barely strangers
i’m pretty much just left the fool...
damn don’t the streets look empty though
just wandering round here without you
oh the empty bottle it misses you
and i’m the one it’s talking to
and i don’t know which is worse
to wake up and see the sun,
or to be the one,
be the one that’s gone
posted at 3:59 PM
i would wish
to
dissolve
posted at 1:34 AM
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