Monday, October 25, 2010
The Object Is Subjective ~
As conceited as it may seem, I am my own universe/god. Regardless of how much I may empathize with another through some process of introspective association, that is as far as I can go. Never can I feel the love, hate, pain, pleasure, joy, nor sorrow of another. All in all, my emotions and senses will never be theirs or will their emotions and senses be mine. Separate, yet akin we share abilities that are limited to ourselves. My universe/god self bumps into other universes/ god selves whom, in rubbing with, leave a residue which in turn may cause change in self (theirs or mine) for better or worse, but then again, what is better or worse? That too is subjective thus open to perspective and interpretation. The object, for lack of a better word, is the subjective I/eye which is limited unto itself. With this, I part and ponder. ~ Arachne ~ October 25, 2010 @ 11:01 a.m.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Inspiration from YOU!
It seem that when I write to you and look at what comes out, I like it. For some reason you help me to flow. Does that make sense? You must have this energy something or other that you pass through the electronic gates of whatever thing we use to communicate on at the moment. Hey, communication of any type has its benefits. I know I still owe you that phone call, but today was hairy. Perhaps tomorrow will find me. In the meantime, let my correspondence to you serve as a dedication of sorts for that which you bring out of me. P.S.: I do suck as a friend regardless of what you say Mr. Inspiration.
To Ryan With Love~
Yeah. A great friend who still owes you a phone call. Not cool at all. If I called now, you would hear gurgling sounds which might sound like speech from some alien being due to my taking of "the dream killer" pills. The function junction has a detour that brings me to abandoned buildings, empty benches, and waterless beaches. I can't even tell if the air is crisp or is it my imagination. Am I even sitting here as my eyes feel the weight of closure without closure of other kinds which are kinder than I. It is kind of like that just before I fall into the coma like state called sleep. But at this moment...this brief moment I can still type that which my mouth can't form to speech. Garbled are these mine.
What is there to do? Wake, love, be hairy, wild, look into surreal horizons, shake the flakes of corn from the box, flip the top without stopping, shovel the grass and mow the snow, throw darts through halos of fallen angels, tip a cow as much as you would tip a waiter (the cow must be sleeping, but the waiter should be awake...use degrees for cows and coin for waiters), have unsplit pea soup, make coffee using whole beans, ride a bull, talk bull, bull shit, don't spit, swallow, ride a bus, bus a ride, bust a bride, take no bribes, sit and think, shit and stink, look to the west for all the best, look to the east for the beast, look to the south and think of BRAZIL, look to the north if you want to chill, hey watch out don't take that pill, take a dog for a walk, if you want to, talk the talk, balk, bark, and bite the night, and when you think you have done it right, turn around and you will see that there is more to do my sweet ho-mie! ~ Arachne ~October 6, 2010 at 12:21 AM EST
To Ryan With Love~
Yeah. A great friend who still owes you a phone call. Not cool at all. If I called now, you would hear gurgling sounds which might sound like speech from some alien being due to my taking of "the dream killer" pills. The function junction has a detour that brings me to abandoned buildings, empty benches, and waterless beaches. I can't even tell if the air is crisp or is it my imagination. Am I even sitting here as my eyes feel the weight of closure without closure of other kinds which are kinder than I. It is kind of like that just before I fall into the coma like state called sleep. But at this moment...this brief moment I can still type that which my mouth can't form to speech. Garbled are these mine.
What is there to do? Wake, love, be hairy, wild, look into surreal horizons, shake the flakes of corn from the box, flip the top without stopping, shovel the grass and mow the snow, throw darts through halos of fallen angels, tip a cow as much as you would tip a waiter (the cow must be sleeping, but the waiter should be awake...use degrees for cows and coin for waiters), have unsplit pea soup, make coffee using whole beans, ride a bull, talk bull, bull shit, don't spit, swallow, ride a bus, bus a ride, bust a bride, take no bribes, sit and think, shit and stink, look to the west for all the best, look to the east for the beast, look to the south and think of BRAZIL, look to the north if you want to chill, hey watch out don't take that pill, take a dog for a walk, if you want to, talk the talk, balk, bark, and bite the night, and when you think you have done it right, turn around and you will see that there is more to do my sweet ho-mie! ~ Arachne ~October 6, 2010 at 12:21 AM EST
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
I Have A Voice
I have a voice which speaks loudly and boldly even when no one is around. Who needs an audience. I have a voice that minces words with itself and argues points when disagreement is had. Some of my best arguments are with myself. I have a voice that is tranquil and calm like liquid silver and is just as reflective when reflectively speaking. I have a voice that is harsh and hard and rolls out of my mouth like a boulder laden landslide. It can sound like a battle cry. I have a voice that makes silly sounds which bring laughter from my grandson. I think I like the last one best. ~ Arachne ~ 10 5 10 @ 10:30
My man is rather small and smells of fresh baby powder
Baby blue smelling of powder and feeling all wiggly. Coos and giggles, sparking eyes, gentle curls, and eyelashes as long as his legs.
Hey baby! Who you looking at? I see you staring at me, but you are also looking at the world in wonderment. You who are so soft and sweet and full of giggles and dimples. Hey baby! What are you thinking? Are you wondering who is the crazy lady who is acting all weird around you? No problem. Let’s go look at the pendulum again. See it swing to and fro. You like it don’t you? Hey baby! Let’s go for a walk and I will talk to you. You see to like to walk with me and you do enjoy the stories, however, I love to listen to yours as well. Hey baby!
Trying hard as I might to write that which presses on my mind does me no good. How I wish to lay down the feelings that I feel when holding my grandson. He is too beautiful for words.
My man is rather small and smells of fresh baby powder
Baby blue smelling of powder and feeling all wiggly. Coos and giggles, sparking eyes, gentle curls, and eyelashes as long as his legs.
Hey baby! Who you looking at? I see you staring at me, but you are also looking at the world in wonderment. You who are so soft and sweet and full of giggles and dimples. Hey baby! What are you thinking? Are you wondering who is the crazy lady who is acting all weird around you? No problem. Let’s go look at the pendulum again. See it swing to and fro. You like it don’t you? Hey baby! Let’s go for a walk and I will talk to you. You see to like to walk with me and you do enjoy the stories, however, I love to listen to yours as well. Hey baby!
Trying hard as I might to write that which presses on my mind does me no good. How I wish to lay down the feelings that I feel when holding my grandson. He is too beautiful for words.
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