[ one: grow fins ]
Memory capsule: Time spent looking inwards, nihilist absorption towards zero 0.
I want to collect navel fluff from all my friends and knit sweaters for outdoors exploration, boldly go where no (wo-)man has ever gone before...I dream of apple-cheeked polar explorers, their beards frozen in rays of ice, their breaths like white-milk clouds in the air. Eskimos.
I hear the crackling of the ice. Underneath: The endless deep- Dark, silent, watery death. So cold. And freezing. I shiver and the ground regains strength. No ice here. No dark water. Not yet.
-Reality is floating, like pack ice in arctic waters, sailing randomly through the danger and currents of gloom which makes up weary autumn days.
I shiver, cough. Outside: The clouds are leaking, bubbly rainfall pissing down, “like someone’s opened up the gates of heaven”- as ma used to say.
Aye. “A wee spit in the air”, eh?
Smelly wellies. Splish-splash. We jump in water, we roll in the grass. Tic toc, it’s raining today. Earthworms: fill up the dams like creased crayon droodles. Nice creatures, they fall in love with their own behinds. Hermaphrodites. –But can they swim?
A. said they can. Don’t trust her. Knees bleeding, fists clenched. Plaster. Raindrops in your hair, earth in your mouth. - Wet ashphalt, water, sand. No school tomorrow. The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain.
You’re ten years old, and you want to be in the rain forever. Grow fins. Breathe underwater, like a fish-finned mermaid. Show them you can shine, can breathe, can get your own back too.
posted by the X at 8:46 pm
You got a postal address for that fluff then?
(Seriously - good to see you posting again!)
I opened the lint filter in the door of the dryer this evening, and it yielded two lovely squares of felt, built up from layers of different colours depending on what was being washed, one of them the layers had been crinkled, pushed and dragged around by the warm air. This secret record of human tendency. I will show you them when I get back to Oslo, I am bringing them with me.
- Ha, splendid!...Just knew you'd understand, sis...!;)
It'll be good to see you again, we must get properly twatted this time...
(I'll see if I can get us a tiny psilo0oo*cybin fix aswell, shhh shh...)
-Bring on the drones, the giggles and the ragas! I'm ready...!:D
- mr. Psychbloke:
...why, sure!...Just stuff yer Royal Mail envelopes and mail off the whole malarkey to me!
Beggars can't be choosers you know, even that wooly Yeovil fluff will do!;)
(Tho' I'll need one HELLUVA wooly pile to produce sweaters warm enough not to freeze yer noses off in these wolf-packed, snow-cold nordic winter forests...Mama nature is one hardcore missus, that much's for sure!):D
Loki's the one for picking up bits of fluff in Yeovil......
- Oh, but this is Magick Mother's Invocation, so we need the fluff in question to've been gracing the navel of you, not some Saxon impostor...
(- Or the spells won't work! We plan to issue a spell to stop all environmental degradation, you know...)
Navel fluff is the new bats...
And so much cheaper...!
(- sorry, i have a retarded sense of humour...)