My little sister and i are watching a television program in which a woman is tracking a lionness who has adopted an antelope.
The people in the surrounding area have named her "Kamunyak," and they think she is a sign from god.
The lionesses make the most beautiful noises. I fucking love nature....
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
muggle
I hate feeling like the awkward, idiotic carrot of a person I used to be.
Did I ever change? Or did I just stop talking?
Can I change? Because if changing means that this sense of being utterly contemptible goes away, I might.
Whine, whine, whine. But it's finals. Things always fall apart when you've got six papers to write and not a minute to spare.
Did I ever change? Or did I just stop talking?
Can I change? Because if changing means that this sense of being utterly contemptible goes away, I might.
Whine, whine, whine. But it's finals. Things always fall apart when you've got six papers to write and not a minute to spare.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
3rd december
i think the reason why i had so many outstandingly odd human interactions today was because of that incredibly strange dream i woke up with.
withwhichiwokeup.
in a white room, not unlike an art gallery, i was sitting with an old friend. there was art of some kind around us, on the walls and whatnot, and it seemed to me later that my bear hat was floating above like a sort of crown for my aura. i was wearing a skirt that was not long and sitting with my legs spread-- not in a lewd way, but in a way that was completely uncaring and unconscious and unnoticeable. he looked with a detached interest at the bare space between my legs, in the way that a person looks at art. i saw it, too, but only after glimpsing that the area of neck and shoulder that settles above my collarbones was ringed with dark, thin hair. like fur. but then he complimented me on it, in a completely nonsexual way--again, in the way that people talk about art, especially art in which they have no deep interest, merely appreciation at the craftsman's aesthetic. i recall him saying, "i really like it. you did a really nice job with that."
i thanked him, and woke up.
i have never, ever had a dream like that.
no damn wonder the day has ended with me being banged on the forehead-- on the snout of my knit bear-- by a man whose enchantedness and whose arms i escaped by jumping on a random bus only to find that when i got on my actual trip home, he was still with me.
but i had taken off the damn hat. so ha!
withwhichiwokeup.
in a white room, not unlike an art gallery, i was sitting with an old friend. there was art of some kind around us, on the walls and whatnot, and it seemed to me later that my bear hat was floating above like a sort of crown for my aura. i was wearing a skirt that was not long and sitting with my legs spread-- not in a lewd way, but in a way that was completely uncaring and unconscious and unnoticeable. he looked with a detached interest at the bare space between my legs, in the way that a person looks at art. i saw it, too, but only after glimpsing that the area of neck and shoulder that settles above my collarbones was ringed with dark, thin hair. like fur. but then he complimented me on it, in a completely nonsexual way--again, in the way that people talk about art, especially art in which they have no deep interest, merely appreciation at the craftsman's aesthetic. i recall him saying, "i really like it. you did a really nice job with that."
i thanked him, and woke up.
i have never, ever had a dream like that.
no damn wonder the day has ended with me being banged on the forehead-- on the snout of my knit bear-- by a man whose enchantedness and whose arms i escaped by jumping on a random bus only to find that when i got on my actual trip home, he was still with me.
but i had taken off the damn hat. so ha!
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