Red Hand Over Red River, Painted Hand Over Painted River

Red Hand Over Red River, Painted Hand Over Painted River

caustic envelope

Light warped and twisted like rods of hot iron. Cardioids and Nephroids, hearts and kidneys lit against the shadow of a wine glass.

i'm just putting this out there even though it looks pretty bad with the lack of formatting. I used to hate mirrors when I was younger, because I always had this fear that I'd see something else behind me. They're always super frightening in my dreams. But now in my mind's eye, I can hardly see the reflection at all. Or rather, when I'm super stressed out, I instinctively think of looking into a mirror and all I can imagine is a smudge of myself. Rarely, it's a good thing that I think about reflections, but often times it's just scary. It's like a sore ache. It's like asking yourself: Are you okay? And not being able to make the words to answer that question. But sometimes, you are okay! You just couldn't form the words immediately. I think part of it is the fear of not being able to answer a question, the fear of being a smudge on the glass pane, and not remembering yourself. That's also why I like heavy, jewel-toned, muddy, smudge colors. The kind where you mix saturated stuff a little too much, but you could still pick out their richness and vibrancy a bit. I really get them, or rather, they remember me. They remember that someone like me exists!

Toodles, see you later!!! hopefully when i figure out some basic html hahaha

'who are you?' i really hate that question! even when i'm the one asking it the most, in my own head. honestly, i think that's why I hate that question so much! mostly because I don't have an answer for it. But it's kind of useful since it's a form of clarifiction, very much so when i'm directing it to a mean line of thought in my brain. Who are you? Where is this coming from? Why is this kind of person going around in my head, when I don't even like them that much? I guess it's a knee-jerk reaction. like thesis (me being whatever in my own brain) antithesis (the most unamused and dismissive critique to the whatever) and... honestly it's not usually very constructive, what that knee-jerk reaction blurts out. and even then, it's always up to me to try to tie that train of thought into a nice little bow. It's tiring! I think that internal jerk is also known as an 'intrusive thought'. They're usually the loudest after a long tiring day, or if you feel like you've been particularly useless or helpless. I wish imagining that a thousand anvils being dropped on them would shut them up! 'Resorting to violence is pretty crude, and it doesn't really refute what I have to say :/' Well, I've got news for you!!! You're not even real, and you're not even saying anything, and just because it makes a person feel bad doesn't make it true or pragmatic. Back to the topic, I guess asking 'who are you?' is much better then going on dumb debates with clumps of thoughts that pretend to be people who don't like you. It trips them a good while, like a series of hiccups. Those annoying retorts, they just run away! and leave me to pick at the roots, like beheaded sheaves of grass, to find out where they're coming from and how they came to be.

teletubby panopticon Candy Time by Christine Altmann

in girum imus nocte et consumimur igni

We enter in circles at night until we are consumed by fire.

"Beneath the porch light, we've all been circling. Beat our dust hearts singe our flour wings" - Joanna Newsom, 'Cosmia'

the many-chambered nautilus

Going back and forth and over your old selves. Smoothing it over with new secretions like a pearl or a spiral. "Volute"

if it was just for me i just want to drown the whole page in a vat of ink. i want the act of creation to be as grotesque as it should feel. in wretchedness truth, and in wretchedness light. and it is not something hoisted upon you like a duty that you are expected to perform, but something you choose for yourself (like a moth drawn to a flame). the blast furnace and the skull and the snake and the howling man.