phthalombrage | (no subject)

Today I've been thinking about a lot of stuff I won't let myself talk about:

- A certain piece of literature I'm suddenly motivated to read because of another thing that happened over the past two days which fits perfectly with stuff.
- Something I heard while aimlessly kicking a mangled Ninja Turtle figurine across the pavement that made me kick it harder.
- The crassness of certain members of my family, including but not limited to me.
- Some figurative mold that has been growing for over half a year.
- My perception of Time and its passage.
- Eyelashes.

Most of this will be disclosed later in my life.

If the piece on time ever gets out, there will be, after much murmuration of starlings, an exultation of larks. A (long) parliament of owls shall reconvene. Unless, due to the unkindness of ravens and the deceit of lapwings, a murder of crows gets the best of me.

Things I let myself talk about:

- Throwing out part of the baby with the bathwater. Only the dead parts.
- How the president is like a black hole and how Dick Cheney has no soul because scabs are parasitic but not alive.
- Chocolate pudding with freezerburn.
- Shapeless pants my mother purchased for me.
- How noises that happen in one part of my neighborhood are audible EVERYWHERE.
- Sasha's myspace pictures.
- Pirates v. ninjas.
- The graphic novel version of The Metamorphosis.
- Brown patches of grass and sky.
- How Disney World staff must have to "relieve" emo bunnies that aren't hopping happily enough.
- Melody's discovery of how Walt Disney used pie both to preserve the German canon of Snow White and to foster the all-American image he wished to convey.
- Movies I need to see.
- Normalcy as measured by what's on TV.
- The condoms, the pie, the alcohol!
- Captain Jack - Billy Joel.
- The amazing / bizarre healing properties of Paul Waters-Smith.
- Eeeeww! Football!

Things I wouldn't mind talking about:

Working on memorizing the play for Congres, aloud, sitting on the roof of the shed in an attempt to escape incessant pounding of drums poorly played, much to the chagrin of the lady who lives behind us, who had been trying to walk her little dog in her backyard in peace and, upon spotting me, was forced to retire within her shadowy abode. Ha.

How giddy I feel when I recognize paintings. Matisse's goldfish. Still life, memento mori. Monet's haystacks. Der Stihl. Pillars of Society. Rows and rows of hotdogs and cupcakes. Some of them have become stale, like so many identical slices of bread. Or "trite coffee." Hee.

Thinking instantly of communism when I see a sickle shape.

Chloe throwing marshmallows into a fire with a demented little gleam in her eyes. Then dying for our sins.

Inkwells and how cool it is to be reliant upon them.