Bodyworks

He was in love with her, the physical immediacy of her. How she felt, the soft plumbing curves of her body, her stomach, her breasts, the way his neck filmed up slightly when she breathed on him in the morning, the slight bitter tang of her breath when she didn’t brush. Eyebrows, plucked infrequently, odd and half-grown in, penciled infrequently still. Stray flakes of eyliner that flaked off onto the pale light of morning pillows. I was in love with her. I still was. I loved everything about her. Except for the things that I didn’t.

But girl, love, darling, madame, dear, she who I loved. Let it never be said that I did not love you completely, every aspect of who you were, every nook and cranny, fold and follicle, lash and lingering touch, let it never be said that I did not love it at all, all of you, and all of it. Never let it be said you are not beautiful.


now just to pin down this miserable voyeurism thing for the story.

Dogs

We are old dogs, lost, forgotten, old wanderers who linger around old places we used to go to and dream about old girls who used to love us.

Old souls who wander around the old places of the world where once people, lovers, the young hung, hanged, lived, loved, lingered listlessly in the lilting light of lost sounds and moments hung on a string.

We forget everything we ever knew except for the people who used to know us or we dreamed we knew them.

We miss them.

Days like these

Days like these you think about threading your fingers all the way through to the back of your skull, protruding out the base of your spine.

Community

I aimagine a community. Small and disparate like the corners of the world, bundled together into a knotted seam. They played out like colors on a television sitcom, representations of the archetypes of jung all bundled up into a location. The thief, the sage, the girl, the boy, I was the boy, the girl was small, slender, parted bangs that split off to the left side of her cheek. I was in love with her.

We played archetypes and beehives, laughed at the stereotypical nature of our existence and then lost ourselves in living, laughing, and figuring out the basics of who we were, how we were constructed and how our arms came apart at the wrists, unspooling into gigantic reams of paper.

I loved her and then she left, floating off into the winds blowing away with the capricious spirit of my imagination leaving me only with the various scraps of paper that scattered around me like the autumn leaves. I missed her. and the sage, and the trickster and the archetypes that'd laughed and poked ironically at their stereotypicalness, then disappeared into the wind.

I miss her, the Girl.

We are too busy.

On average the American worker works more hours than any other worker in a first-world nation. While there are many reasons for this, one of the major transformations of the social dynamic is that life has shifted from the family to the workplace, to life outside the workplace to entirely within the workplace.

You are your job, your job is you, and most likely you will find all your SOs at your job or related in some way to your job.

Now as for me that means that unemployed me who has been unemployed for almost ever, this means that well, things don't stay samelike.

Well I pulled this up because my friend works. A lot. She's constantly scheduled, poorly paid, but in this economy, it's a job. But, ionno. People are gone more. I stay home and write, but i'm mostly alone. Yes I'm a self-centered narcissistic little twat. But,


I forget people have lives outside reading and commenting on my story

Adventureland.

I'm a very big fan of this movie. It's beautifully choreographed, it's sweet, sentimental, the main character could almost be my clone, and the performances are awesome.

Carnivals are some of the best places to photograph ever because you have multiple light sources and so much to do with wide angle lenses to achieve the movie soft lighting effect with blurred out lights.

With James and Em, you feel this performance. Kristen Stewart is a good actress given the right role, and this is her right role, among one of many should she choose wisely in the future.

Heady nuances in the movment of her hands, a distinctly jewish aspect to various elemnts of her character. Jesse eisenberg mixes it up too as someone who is simultaneously very intellectual and nerdy but comfortable in his own skin, a degree of jockish cocky bravado in his physical perforamnce. James is smart, but he's nowhere near as unrelastically cartoonishly awkward as is Michael Cera's usual demeanor which at this point has become almost unbearable to watch. Think of Michael Cera's character, except done well.

This is a movie about people who kow their lots in life, who act like adults and individuals who make decisions based on their personalities and not genre conventions or anything else. The performances by Eisenberg and Stewart in particular are so absorbing they might as well be a stylized documentary. Stewart's lines falter at times, but a compelling performance makes this as good as any movie ofits ilk can ever be.

It shares the spirits and hopes and dreams and demeanor of its main character, soft, sweet, intelligently crafted, and fableistic, but only in the best way possible.

This is the cheap and tawdry world of our memory, but how we rememeber it, how it was beautiful to us.

So yes, I'll have no shame in pulling up this movie to watch James and Em falling in love time and time over again. It might be wish fulfillment, but. I don't feel like i need to make an apology for that.

I don't really want to know how many people read this blog, do I?

Prolly like talking to a mirror.