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ambiently & with ardour
12 January 2020 @ 12:00 pm


*if you're going to add me please leave me a comment and let me know, as i'd do precisely the same courtesy for you*
noise & sound: microphones
ambiently & with ardour
31 October 2014 @ 05:27 pm
oh, I'm really not getting a kick out of things right now. which is not to say I'm the most distressed/depressed but that the "shape of things" is lacking in luster. sometimes I'm really shocked but never ever in good ways. doesn't everyone want to look out the window and see something marvelous falling from the sky? earnestly marvelous things like phallus shaped crystals that vibrate and hum and reveal what one is going to eat next tuesday when touched. I mean it. I need marvelous.

it's Halloween and I've eaten so much candy and I don't even know why I've remembered this blog all of a sudden but I'm jazzed and tickled and just blushing oh wow.

ambiently & with ardour
07 November 2010 @ 09:35 pm
this is my favorite time of year and I am terrified that I will miss it. I spend all the other seasons thinking about how silent winter is here, how it portends great disaster and how if I am not careful I will miss it. how the plains go overhead some times and make a huge sound in the void of the backyard and the thick snowbound trees leading into the woods.

this is my only home and there is no other. for the next few months we will wonder at Jesus' birth and the pine trees in the thicket. i can put away Flannery O'Connor and find something that smells like the empty cold.

this is the time when I am closest to her. this is the time i believe that once we loved each other in a dimly lit house in a half-closed corner of the universe. this is the most beautiful time of year in central new york and i'm afraid of missing it. she gets closer and closer with her unhappy, empty eyes and i cannot catch her and i cannot catch her ever, but i do keep trying.

this is the most beautiful, gorgeous time of the year in the state. this year i will not miss it and i will take my medication so i am not afraid and this year i will catch up with her. and then, the story will appear like a bush burning on the planes.

I think.
noise & sound: joanna newsom
ambiently & with ardour
03 July 2010 @ 07:39 pm
Just so that everybody's clear, this:

is probably my favorite thing, ever. Other than probably Solaris and Nightwood and Sufjan Stevens and pink sweaters and pinot noir and cheese. Maybe it's higher than cheese. It's all dependent on the type of cheese.

ambiently & with ardour
26 June 2010 @ 11:26 am
so I'm frankly obsessed with the tiniest details. like a man with a receding red hairline whose name is Bo, or an anemic, jaundiced looking boy who smokes organic cigarettes and only -

catching the eye of a girl in the coffee shop and holding that look with a hazel intensity that isn't quite, that's more of a moment of brief camaraderie that can be recognized but not acknowledged. and everybody's nostril piercings shining silvery in the light. little girls who want to sit on your lap with their tiny fragile bones while you braid their impossibly long hair.

right now I'm reading Herzog by Saul Bellow and it's a bit rich. the density and the complexity of oppression are powerful and I like it. but honestly it's a little irritating to read misogynist literature - even if it's written by a genius. letting it slide now because I'm genuinely in love with the novel. Other things I read and loved: The Charioteer by Mary Renault, a wonderful queer novel with absolutely exquisite imagery.

Also, I cannot stop watching Solaris. I love Tarkovsky's cinematography. I love Natalya's acting. I love the Russian language. It all makes me so, so happy.
noise & sound: vashti bunyan
ambiently & with ardour
23 June 2010 @ 03:28 pm
essentially this is nothing but a shameful self plug for my new blog over at blogger:

Little Ambient Heart

it's a blog composed entirely of fiction entries. i welcome all readers, all comments, all anything. feel free to just browse around, check things out. it's exclusively fiction and prose for the moment. I have about 10 entries already. Any con-crit, of course, is sincerely appreciated.

Anyway, self-plug over, thanks in advance for anyone who takes the time to read my work. It means so very much to me :)
noise & sound: diane cluck
ambiently & with ardour
07 April 2010 @ 11:25 am
Someone special: your mission today:

convince me to go to graduate school. I am hoping to achieve an MFA in creative writing.
or unconvince me to go to graduate school. writers are 98% talentless and often live poor, sad, lonely lives spent in unrequited love.

But somebody please convince me either way because I'm monstrously ambivalent. Some days the future looks nice, like the image seen through cut glass, and some days it's like a black pavement road that leads into an infinite gray sky. Long, long, longly gray sky and no trees.

Is it better, please, to think too much of yourself, or too little?
ambiently & with ardour
29 March 2010 @ 05:23 pm
we are not where we should be now

that was a nice place at the end of the little road, where Shelly and I stayed for a weekend. the trees very tall and the path narrow, loosely paved with stone and ridged on either side by these deep ditches. the water ran shallow. there was a constant noise (overtone) like the organ played under a hymn resonate now with little birds and windy movements in greenery. I was happy there but Shelly was nervous and drank whiskey, parted her hair unevenly, was jumpy and dropped the empty kettle on the floor where it thudded and rolled.

i suggested she take in some philosophy courses at the community college, or do some nude modeling for artists so she could learn a little more about herself. she took my advice (i think) but i don't see her now and do believe i heard (in some obscure grapevine) that she has a boyfriend now. i am lonely now, little lonely. it is very hard to pay the bills on a lazy income. come to think now, i bet Shelly got married. i don't think she knew there were other options. her momma was dogmatic and direct. Shelly had to little brothers and everybody liked them more. absent of her rather blotchy freckles, the jaundice looking skin around her eyes. her parents wanted two boys to play sports and skin knees and take joyrides in their teenage cars. Shelly was leftovers, slightly forced disappointing union between sperm and egg. i now pronounce you baby.

we still write letters to God. we're still awful at remembering our prayers. we still drink liquor out of plastic bottles. we still recycle, comb our hair, watch the six o'clock news, try sudoku puzzles in the arts & living section of the paper. we're still terrified of all kinds of sex.

"Silent Night, nothing feels right!"
ambiently & with ardour
15 February 2010 @ 11:28 am
I think I've become what my health class in high school would refer to as a functioning alcoholic.

all you have to do from here is make it. and be ready for the train of the Lord when He comes, His gold streaming his chariot and horses with many noses shall not wait. be read. Paul's letter to the Romans. a slip of the knife while cutting a pepper, the sting of chlorophyll in the open cut. the blood, the pennies, the little kids with their pinwheeling arms their cartwheels on the sidewalk.

Look! I'm not intellectual! I'm not educated! Four years spent having been very silly. I will pay my taxes. I will do good for the government. I will shop at upscale department stores like Lord & Taylor. I will find a proper church and get involved in charity benefits. Get fat, eat synthesized vegetable spread and not butter.

I will forget that I liked writing. I think I've already forgotten that I once liked writing. I will become a connoisseur of cheese and wine. I'll hold on to little things like gardens and Siamese kittens.

Peach, Plum, Pear!
ambiently & with ardour
16 December 2009 @ 02:42 pm
I chew gum. I gnaw on my tongue ring. I smoke cigarettes. I lick my lips. I bite my lips. I usually have a bag of sucking candy next to my computer. I always need to have a drink to sip on.

noise & sound: the swell season - i have <3'ed you wrong