||[02 May 2010|12:24pm]
It seems as though most of my friends have abandoned this journal. You can find me at livejournal: bones00
||[19 Jun 2008|06:57pm]
He had a greater vision then I do now,
he could see things in green automobiles
and his own tears that I could never confess to,
he envisioned the best minds of his generation
and saw them destroyed.
I must have neglected the
assigning of genius
amongst the gang, though it's there, too etched to be so easily perceived by a common
spent too much time in introspection
to really understand
the outside construction of reality
and its ultimate self-destruction.
the lost vision of chaos
and the great fires of imagination burnt down to simnple ambers and black wood
alongside great flashes of solitude's immortal contemplation.
Too many hours running over thousands of pages
that slip out of the mind like soapsuds,
organizing by author and invested musings,
disintegrated immediately after reading.
Too muh time with double D momma
and Hophead Harry,
fucked around with bands (whose titles reveal their reflection):
Fat Apple Crud Up
Eight Struggling Rhinoceroses
Walking the streets with head down and face in a frozen contortion
of steel revolt mad with alcohol's rotting brain and churning
stomach burning waking hours to accurate clock's second-hand
metronome insomniac lusting for home remedied brew and
wine and beer,
pot and oil.
Stumbling houseward bound, cross eyed, tongue crawling with ants
plus fine fur coat of psychoactive response to warped image re-
flected in self-understanding and idiot manifestation.
Smoking long strand tobacco rolled in membrane thin paper down
to the filter near the
screaming seagulls of Newfoundland docks and ocean liners lapped
by murky waters of tampons, condoms, rubber gloves, corn,
shit and piss.
Pacing the hallways of lunatic wards in a maniac's static vibrations
and the syrupy rotation of depression's watch, eyes gleaming
in deathly consideration and the endless possibilities of ab-
sorbed knowledge through newspapers, television's fuck-ups,
radio signals channeled, chemical algebra, floor patterns, the
condition of teeth and the obvious deformity in mirrored glass.
Skeletal ink sinking laves of imagined paper. Fingers of simian
ancestry prying the physical in hellish inspection, gaining in-
trusion with primal sensation.
With body pathetic from hunger
trimming foust and eyes from long bad potatoes
picking the earwigs from burlap sacks of rice
filling the gut with liters of tea and working the mind to distract
consumption, food bank's child too competent in social aims
for intended use. Rather hunt for scraps around tables and
stoves of the very same animated psyches regarded as dedi
-cated to the standards of accepted living...
|photographs and plants
||[17 Jan 2008|06:41pm]
I feel that my journal life has become fragmented and volatile. I now have various journals that are failing or new. I dislike this.
Last night Chris G and i went to The Rooms(http://www.therooms.ca/), which is a museum and art gallery. They had free admission from 6pm-9pm so we took advantage of this. There was only one room of the museum open and two art galleries. The museum had stuffed animals, mostly, and some preserved ones as well. There was a giant squid that wasn't as big as i thought it would be. It's tentacles were quite long, but it's body was not very wide.
In a small room there was a series of altered photographs that were great. The Rooms website described the series as: "St. John's artist Jim Hansen is like a private detective investigating himself. His installation invites you to explore The Hansen Files; a case room offering fragments of evidence fraught with irony, humour, and doubt."
I also really liked the photographs of Ilse Bing (Germany):
Today i had my first botany lab of the semester. It took the entire three hours that it's alloted for (labs usually only take two hours. you are allowed to leave whenever you finish). I'm required to actually grow plants that are to be graded. This makes me worry as i tend to kill plants. This upsets me because i never can figure out what i did wrong. Too much love and petting?