Engraving (SIC) (Mis-Interpretations)...
Growth, BD 2007
BD
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29 January 2007
28 January 2007
27 January 2007
Playlist 1.4...
001. The Gossip / Mangled Heart
002. Joanna Newsome / This Side Of Blue
003. Aphex Twin / Jynweythek Ylow
004. ¡Forward, Russia! / Fifteen Pt. II
005. Björk / Frosti
006. Public Image Ltd. / Rise
007. Wolf Parade / Disco Sheets
008. Aqualung / Extraordinary Thing
009. The Hedrons / Couldn't Leave Her Alone
010. Norah Jones / Thinking About You
011. Vega 4 / You And Me
012. I Was A Cub Scout / Teenage Skin
002. Joanna Newsome / This Side Of Blue
003. Aphex Twin / Jynweythek Ylow
004. ¡Forward, Russia! / Fifteen Pt. II
005. Björk / Frosti
006. Public Image Ltd. / Rise
007. Wolf Parade / Disco Sheets
008. Aqualung / Extraordinary Thing
009. The Hedrons / Couldn't Leave Her Alone
010. Norah Jones / Thinking About You
011. Vega 4 / You And Me
012. I Was A Cub Scout / Teenage Skin
BD
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25 January 2007
An Easy One...
1. Grab the closest book to you
2. Open to page 123
3. Look down to the 4th sentence
4. Comment the text of the next 5 lines
5. Include the title and the author's name
BD
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Young Knives / Loughborough Suicide...
I will never go down fighting
I looked down from the Carillon
I looked across to the aviary
How long have they been having fun?
I want to be among them
Sitting pretty drinking Evian
I don’t think that it will be long
I want to do it on the tennis courts
I want to do it where they are playing sport
So they can make sport of this man
Will I find myself traveling?
Will I find myself in therapy?
Or leap and just see where I land
Well it is cold, cold, cold
And I think I'm going to die in here
Considering Loughborough suicide
Which I'm definitely going to do this year
And if you take a look out side
Then the answers to your questions seem quite clear
That you may as well leave
Because there's nothing else to do around here
How long have I been inside?
And I will never go down fighting
I looked down from the Carillon
I looked across to the aviary
How long have they been having fun?
I want to be among them
Sitting pretty drinking Evian
I don’t think that it will be long
I want to do it on the tennis courts
I want to do it where they are playing sport
So they can make sport of this man
Will I find myself traveling?
Will I find myself in therapy?
Or leap and just see where I land
Well it is cold, cold, cold
And I think I'm going to die in here
Considering Loughborough suicide
Which I'm definitely going to do this year
And if you take a look out side
Then the answers to your questions seem quite clear
That you may as well leave
Because there's nothing else to do around here
How long have I been inside?
And I will never go down fighting
BD
| 2 comments
24 January 2007
21 January 2007
Nice Things About B: Hearts
Something about B that I like is that he likes hearts. He shows me pictures of them when he comes across them... But beyond the artistic view of hearts, he has such a big heart inside of him. Right now I feel all wrapped up tight inside it, like a baby in swaddling. We spoke of how we have the same heart the other day. In this moment, I can feel his around and inside mine like we are one. I am glad, and thankful, that he shares his heart with me and that he is so careful with mine.
Where your heart is, there also is your treasure.
Where your heart is, there also is your treasure.
18 January 2007
16 January 2007
Dreams: Our Place...
Across the lines and under the down shifting lights, catches breath like a stream alive. The tallest trees, stretch to the sea and to the edge where shadows meet. Our place beneath the skies, nested in natures way, as the seasons come and whisper loud. We're still wrapped together again and all our dreams are waking in our (quiet hiding) place.
BD
| 2 comments
15 January 2007
The Sounds From Inside The Shell...
There are those nights I can't sleep, the drafts follow me and I think of things that no-one would believe. I think of driving through the city and down to the sea, without dreams but just left to be - 'waves I cannot sleep'. Watching the foams rumble along the seams, its lines ingrained in the sand. The whole world, like me is smoothed by the sea - she to me - is the sea, she soothes me.
BD
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14 January 2007
Tsunami...
I. Staring at the horizon, the world is ending. It was raining, on me, it might as well have been pouring. I hate my heart, it makes the hate for myself that bit more unbearable. I need someone to wash over it, fill it with something - something caught is better than nothing spilt otherwise it should be cut out...
II. On a journey that leads to the sun, where the soul-less are bent on destruction. They splash between right and wrong, take my place in our showdown and I'll watch my demise with a pitiful eye. Humble in asking for forgivness and laying subsurface requests for you and I. What will burn? A creation of divity? Like the one bursting out...
III. Decide on which skin, which sign. Find a set, one you will want to keep and won't surf out at your lesuire. One without the spray of what if and nothing unchecked. Then I can be happy, like I was last night. I can flicker out to sleep, with visions of your feet about mine. Hold me back, why cut the slack? Foam is white to black...
IV. Clearly this can't be me - in a mist I was called perfect, my will battered - crashing into rock. Those horrible mistaken words? I don't know what to call losing if this is meant to be winning. We live in a glug of hope, that we can all cry about our love and loss but people climb waves just to gulp in fame and famine...
V. That feeling, it was the way to save us, to clean us. Forgetting the salty, we're first and last. No one has a sniff at us, our anti-social ways, wanting friends but those voices all sound the same. What comes after I give all I have to give, what are you going to do with the helix? La la laaaa...
VI. That work, trickles away. Empties me, without tipping me, pierced. No one has to live life on their own, that kind of life needs a watering and a gratitude. I can't believe everytime I turn on the news or read email there is something bringing me down. Evaporating. Just standing here, I'm going to change...
VII. Ten dollars, ten pounds. This vessel, considered as the other was half thrown away. This one, it fell deep, into holes worth-less-than the sum paid to be filled. It was a pyrrhic victory and then, it was temporary. No turning back, the deep blue hell I'm in now - take this heart, turn port and follow the skies...
VIII. Keep your cigarettes, I'll put trust back to my drug. She doesn't need but I'm weak, I have non physical needs, I want 'one'. Its not a connotation or confrontation, I'm broke looking for a lighthouse. Time doesn't mend anything, the currents only wear the edge away but gifts of heart can. I can't find the impossible, not with a dam for help...
IX. What did I miss, what was I given the droplet. Left to sink. Raft, roaring tides, battle against the tempest. Eyes red, the bitterness - it'd never have destroyed me if I still had the ring, or even the vest. Gone just like the best, only me in its place. Next time there will be warm and sunny days, leave me back to the sea...
X. With the cycle, I'm back. Leads us all to nowhere, the orbits. It's the death and sometimes, the lives. Tell me, what gives? The icy it warns me that the tunnel gazing toward the white warms me. Hypnotised. Submerged. Weight on the bridges, the are soon to be soaking...
XI. A shipwreck, a city for the fishes. Not so very pretty, the same as you don't like it anymore. Looking on, remembering what I once had. You are surfaced, with another reflection. I wish I'd have drowned, unknotted from roots but tangled in weeds. All of those bubbles...
XII. In the middle of the ocean, I should walk the rest of the way. No tears (wasted) anymore, when I wake they will be waiting, its the same old platter these days. Accepted, granted, revoked, something else. Blocked. I called the one many, I thought it was stronger, not to be messed with, lost...
II. On a journey that leads to the sun, where the soul-less are bent on destruction. They splash between right and wrong, take my place in our showdown and I'll watch my demise with a pitiful eye. Humble in asking for forgivness and laying subsurface requests for you and I. What will burn? A creation of divity? Like the one bursting out...
III. Decide on which skin, which sign. Find a set, one you will want to keep and won't surf out at your lesuire. One without the spray of what if and nothing unchecked. Then I can be happy, like I was last night. I can flicker out to sleep, with visions of your feet about mine. Hold me back, why cut the slack? Foam is white to black...
IV. Clearly this can't be me - in a mist I was called perfect, my will battered - crashing into rock. Those horrible mistaken words? I don't know what to call losing if this is meant to be winning. We live in a glug of hope, that we can all cry about our love and loss but people climb waves just to gulp in fame and famine...
V. That feeling, it was the way to save us, to clean us. Forgetting the salty, we're first and last. No one has a sniff at us, our anti-social ways, wanting friends but those voices all sound the same. What comes after I give all I have to give, what are you going to do with the helix? La la laaaa...
VI. That work, trickles away. Empties me, without tipping me, pierced. No one has to live life on their own, that kind of life needs a watering and a gratitude. I can't believe everytime I turn on the news or read email there is something bringing me down. Evaporating. Just standing here, I'm going to change...
VII. Ten dollars, ten pounds. This vessel, considered as the other was half thrown away. This one, it fell deep, into holes worth-less-than the sum paid to be filled. It was a pyrrhic victory and then, it was temporary. No turning back, the deep blue hell I'm in now - take this heart, turn port and follow the skies...
VIII. Keep your cigarettes, I'll put trust back to my drug. She doesn't need but I'm weak, I have non physical needs, I want 'one'. Its not a connotation or confrontation, I'm broke looking for a lighthouse. Time doesn't mend anything, the currents only wear the edge away but gifts of heart can. I can't find the impossible, not with a dam for help...
IX. What did I miss, what was I given the droplet. Left to sink. Raft, roaring tides, battle against the tempest. Eyes red, the bitterness - it'd never have destroyed me if I still had the ring, or even the vest. Gone just like the best, only me in its place. Next time there will be warm and sunny days, leave me back to the sea...
X. With the cycle, I'm back. Leads us all to nowhere, the orbits. It's the death and sometimes, the lives. Tell me, what gives? The icy it warns me that the tunnel gazing toward the white warms me. Hypnotised. Submerged. Weight on the bridges, the are soon to be soaking...
XI. A shipwreck, a city for the fishes. Not so very pretty, the same as you don't like it anymore. Looking on, remembering what I once had. You are surfaced, with another reflection. I wish I'd have drowned, unknotted from roots but tangled in weeds. All of those bubbles...
XII. In the middle of the ocean, I should walk the rest of the way. No tears (wasted) anymore, when I wake they will be waiting, its the same old platter these days. Accepted, granted, revoked, something else. Blocked. I called the one many, I thought it was stronger, not to be messed with, lost...
BD
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13 January 2007
Clutching...
A devotee is one who treats abuse, criticism and praise equally. He keeps his mind always silent. He is always silent in praise and abuse. He is always satisfied, never discontented and never allows his mind to go up or down... - Gita 12:19
BD
| 2 comments
12 January 2007
11 January 2007
10 January 2007
07 January 2007
About Today..
Sometimes when we talk
I get the distinct feeling that
You are not glad
You are you
I am me
And we are we.
I detect a detached chill.
It used to worry me
Until I realized
That only a man
Who can be very attached
Can also be very detached.
And though at times I still detect detachment
I can weather it.
For I have come to learn that
You and I , my love,
Do not live in a temperate zone.
Lois Wyse
I get the distinct feeling that
You are not glad
You are you
I am me
And we are we.
I detect a detached chill.
It used to worry me
Until I realized
That only a man
Who can be very attached
Can also be very detached.
And though at times I still detect detachment
I can weather it.
For I have come to learn that
You and I , my love,
Do not live in a temperate zone.
Lois Wyse
06 January 2007
Futures III (Similars Or Familiars)...
RB: What do you call a couple who agrue about the same things every week?
RC: I don't know what do you call a couple who argue about the same thing every week?
RB:Married...
So anyway, once you've recovered from a little of the two Ronnies - I remember my Grandparents used to really nip at each other somethings chronic over something, one being food. This was two people you could see walking down the street ay 70, holding hands, joking with each other, playing sport together, dancing together, being the 1940's couple they always were - showing their love.
Food, my grandmother doesn't like to cook - even though she is a grandmother and that pretty much makes her the worlds greatest cook - she used to buy fish on a Tuesday and prepare sometype of fish based meal for Tuesday dinner, it was always very good. My grandfather, wasn't a big eater - even though he was 6'2'' and I can only ever remember him being 'portly' - so when he got this plate of fish (and chips and pea and tartar, for example) he'd complain and complain about the size of portion he got, ...you know I dinna need a'that... and the contest would begin it wasn't entirely a bad thing for me, since I like fish and I used to make it coincidence to be going round on a Tuesday night he used to put a bit extra on my plate. After those meals, my grandfather (and I) would wash up while my grandmother would make a pot of tea, he would give her a kiss and tell her how he enjoyed his dinner; the next Tuesday the same thing would happen.
RC: I don't know what do you call a couple who argue about the same thing every week?
RB:Married...
So anyway, once you've recovered from a little of the two Ronnies - I remember my Grandparents used to really nip at each other somethings chronic over something, one being food. This was two people you could see walking down the street ay 70, holding hands, joking with each other, playing sport together, dancing together, being the 1940's couple they always were - showing their love.
Food, my grandmother doesn't like to cook - even though she is a grandmother and that pretty much makes her the worlds greatest cook - she used to buy fish on a Tuesday and prepare sometype of fish based meal for Tuesday dinner, it was always very good. My grandfather, wasn't a big eater - even though he was 6'2'' and I can only ever remember him being 'portly' - so when he got this plate of fish (and chips and pea and tartar, for example) he'd complain and complain about the size of portion he got, ...you know I dinna need a'that... and the contest would begin it wasn't entirely a bad thing for me, since I like fish and I used to make it coincidence to be going round on a Tuesday night he used to put a bit extra on my plate. After those meals, my grandfather (and I) would wash up while my grandmother would make a pot of tea, he would give her a kiss and tell her how he enjoyed his dinner; the next Tuesday the same thing would happen.
BD
| 3 comments
05 January 2007
04 January 2007
Just Thinking
I like the times when I drift away into thought
swimming streams of ideas into an ocean of calm
warm rays of understanding piercing through clouds
til I'm filled with the warmth of
almost
knowing
something...
Then resting among the waves
floating bobbing along until I feel
the grit of dreams of meeting reality
and sleepily stand to walk among the tall green things
that drop seeds into the shadowy loam
sprouting new thoughts to lay waiting for the gentle rain
of peace
and quiet
to promote their growth.
It's been a while.
swimming streams of ideas into an ocean of calm
warm rays of understanding piercing through clouds
til I'm filled with the warmth of
almost
knowing
something...
Then resting among the waves
floating bobbing along until I feel
the grit of dreams of meeting reality
and sleepily stand to walk among the tall green things
that drop seeds into the shadowy loam
sprouting new thoughts to lay waiting for the gentle rain
of peace
and quiet
to promote their growth.
It's been a while.
03 January 2007
01 January 2007
MMVII...
They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope... - Jeremiah 29:11
BD
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