Our words will live so much longer than we will. Maybe for one. Even none. Or, the whole world. Who knows, van Gogh?
This killed 20 mins of shocking karaoke. (The hostess and her friend are kind of amazing? It only enhances the contrast. 🙃) More importantly, this was much, much better than Insta.
This killed 20 mins of shocking karaoke. (The hostess and her friend are kind of amazing? It only enhances the contrast. 🙃) More importantly, this was much, much better than Insta.
November 23, 2024 at 1:14 AM
Our words will live so much longer than we will. Maybe for one. Even none. Or, the whole world. Who knows, van Gogh?
This killed 20 mins of shocking karaoke. (The hostess and her friend are kind of amazing? It only enhances the contrast. 🙃) More importantly, this was much, much better than Insta.
This killed 20 mins of shocking karaoke. (The hostess and her friend are kind of amazing? It only enhances the contrast. 🙃) More importantly, this was much, much better than Insta.
Hwaet: It’s thinking out loud, with a chisel. We can carve the sentence, but not the whole. Mold and sculpt, but only within the moment. Small moves, big choices. I’ve never been a good poet. But I admire the good poets. Meter, meter, rhyme, maybe just one more time….
November 23, 2024 at 1:09 AM
Hwaet: It’s thinking out loud, with a chisel. We can carve the sentence, but not the whole. Mold and sculpt, but only within the moment. Small moves, big choices. I’ve never been a good poet. But I admire the good poets. Meter, meter, rhyme, maybe just one more time….
Oh shit. Literally Mamma Mia now. Shit….
November 23, 2024 at 1:04 AM
Oh shit. Literally Mamma Mia now. Shit….
Like I had this lunch one time, out on my own in Chelsea (NYC), during which I wrote a complete, short story about a mouse. Who cares? Also: Why? I dunno. But I still think about it. I think because it was a moment of balance. Between had-to, and want-to. Chance, and choice….
November 23, 2024 at 1:03 AM
Like I had this lunch one time, out on my own in Chelsea (NYC), during which I wrote a complete, short story about a mouse. Who cares? Also: Why? I dunno. But I still think about it. I think because it was a moment of balance. Between had-to, and want-to. Chance, and choice….