March 2012
Anonymous asked: woooooof woooooof wooooof
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untitled fragment, february 29, 2012.
each and every beetle holed tree spilling rotten red fruit to the mould of a midwinter orchard, cracked skin and septic pulp. ‘i don’t actually believe in those things,’ in the throes of… who really knows what. and it’s all apples, after that, anyway.
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-.sjb.
February 2012
black canvas sneakers, grey bamboo socks, brown cotton twill trousers rolled/cuffed at just below the knee, black cotton boxer shrots with a print of small bicycles all over, black leather belt with steel buckle, grey alasehir t-shirt, black bandana tied around left wrist.
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apple.
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“one night to be confused
one night to speed up truth
we had a promise made...”
– richard m. nixon, a thanksgiving prayer for the dying.
hollovv replied to your post: whenever any of the current crop of republican…
Reasons Why Heksenhaus Is One Of My Favorite Bloggers
<3!
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“for the first time on the radio
when i was going somewhere in a car
you...”
– the knife, from ‘you take my breath away.’
gerausch replied to your post: i dreamed of sitting at a kitchen table, with a…
Last night, I dreamed that I got into a shouting match with Boyd Rice about opera. I don’t care what he says, the “Al Destin, Che La Minaccia” aria is not improved by two singers.
while i’m not really a fan of ‘mitridate,’ i am in complete agreement with you.
“FIRE ENTERS THE GALLOWS
PRISONERS TRAPPED LIKE RATS
SOMEWHERE OUT THERE...”
– rick santorum, republican candidate, on his ideas for prison reform.
eviscerateyoungcaptain replied to your post: i dreamed of sitting at a kitchen table, with a…
One time I dreamed that I went to a party and someone introduced me to Terry Zwigoff, the director of the “Crumb” movie and he told me “I know you don’t think so right now, but everything will be alright, It will be better than you expected”
that sounds so strangely comforting.
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i dreamed of sitting at a kitchen table, with a bowl of wax fruit in front of me. as i sat there, i felt my jaw crack and splinter and mandibles grew from it. the wax fruit began shifting in the bowl and i was filled with an overwhelming urge to eat it. once i finished, i stepped through the door where it smelled like burning dandelions.
whenever any of the current crop of republican candidates says anything, all i hear are the lyrics to integrity’s ‘those who fear tomorrow.’
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(and then sometimes it’s like a fucking knife to the gut.)
chaperone asked: I have been following your Tumblr for a while. I like the way you use language quite a bit. Have you maybe made physical zines of your writing/findings?
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“BLOODY
FUCKING
TEETH.”
– AND CRACKED
black canvas sneakers, pale blue bamboo socks, black cotton twill trousers cuffed at the ankle, black cotton boxer shorts, black leather belt with steel buckle, brown sun ra t-shirt, white cotton shirt with small blood stain on left cuff, black woolen tie with swans pin, black cotton hooded sweatshirt, black cotton twill jacket, purple and grey striped gloves.
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vocal test with monotron delay.
-.sjb.
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slabbb-blockkk-hilarious asked: ...taking the dog for a walk in the forest is a political act! photographing spaces emptied of the human save traces and scrawls is a political act! field recordings, ambiance in aloness, is a political act! apathy? One exists, how can one then be apathetic? "the personal is political" "all is happening in the dark.." (but it's being shared, extended, reciprocated, finding...
slabbb-blockkk-hilarious asked: More: the creative is political (active, activism), to practice 'magick' is political, to write, compose, make music is political, to make choices around diet involving least to lesser amounts of harm (to other living creatures), to take a stance within oneself as to values & to stake out some 'ground' in oneself towards those values, to speak & write from such a...
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i dreamed of driving through the desert at night. i stopped the car, turned it off, and sat on the cooling hood and just listened to the sound of the world around me. and there were wolves.
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black leather five-hole doc martens, pale yellow bamboo socks, black cotton twill trousers rolled/cuffed at about an inch about the ankle, black leather belt with silver buckle, pale blue cotton boxer shorts, grey t-shirt with white demon print, white cotton shirt, black woolen tie with snakebomb pin, grey bandana tied around left ankle.
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“everything is happening in the dark
and everything is happening all at once”
– dax riggs (via dialoghost)
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thayer street and post office, providence, ri....
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'once, when i was on the cusp of adulthood.'
wine soaked lilacs left to rot in the sun gifting a sweetness to the air both cloying and commendable. the bees of some forgotten hell (thrice times twice) circling stingless and erratic drunk on the piss of martyrs. (and her afterglow lit the way back to nowhere.) there is a symbol for Nothing and it’s carved in the back of her throat.
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-.sjb.
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i dreamed of sitting in an overly lit office with pale yellow walls, and sparse furniture. there was a filthy window through which filtered a sort of grey light and i could hear the sound of someone wailing but i could not bring myself to move to the window to look out. i removed my tie, sighed heavily, and sat in an uncomfortable chair and just waited for the sound to stop.
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