Skip to main content

a selection from the imaginary kaleidescope

sometimes, i like to simply write stray bits, often as accompaniment to music. (i turn the computer on random and write a separate piece for each track that plays.) here are a few excerpts from that sort of exercise.

#1

I thought I dreamed last night, but I can’t remember anymore. I think I dreamed. Maybe a dream of being out, walking in the cold early spring, sitting with people who hardly know I exist, those people who see me every day. Being satisfied that they might finally know what my voice sounded like, being able to explain why I list ever so slightly to the right when I walk, in case they’d ever noticed, not that they would have had reason to notice.

You weren’t there in the dream.

#2

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved didn’t love the way that I love her, didn’t lose her as completely as I am losing her. She takes not only herself when she goes, not only her white form, leaving a smooth, temporary imprint on the sagging sofa, not only this goes with her but part of me as well. The part of me that belongs in recent memory. The part of me that she has created. That’s all done for her now, that’s all done and she moves on, an effortless slide on a chessboard only she can see. She takes me with her. I am left without myself.

#3

Then parlour dramas took their toll and I became that other, that one who held you back from all you dream and you, sweet hero of the tale, put hand to breast and showed how much you longed to fly from here, even as I wrapped my arms around you, even as I thought the history of the flesh would crush you into me.

And then there was the jerky dance around, the histrionics that time expects for its patience. Arms thrusting up and down, countered by those waving side to side, the film descends to lurid drama and then unravels entirely.

Grey real of alone, sitting despondent stupid and waiting for your sunshine.

#4

Marianna needs to stop dancing on the damn table is all I’m thinking at this point. She’s wearing these massive, alarming silver boots and a purple dress, a sort of rabbit-hole dress- only fits around the hare. Her platinum locks- or the synthetic mass that’s passing for her hair this week- shakes and weaves in time with whatever eastern crap Derek’s got blaring from his stereo.

See, the thing is, Derek’s guests encourage Marianna to do this sort of thing because it’s funny. But Derek doesn’t find it funny because he paid more than a month’s rent for the table she’s dancing on. I’m the only one who knows that. Two people are snorting lines off a coffee table that costs more than this incredible apartment.

Comments

fruityb said…
Already said bravo to these elsewhere, but I must say bravo again :)
morelikespace said…
hey, welcome to you, hatter! i figured i'd stick them up here for those who aren't "pets" as well :-)

as long as you're here, why not read more?

do you not know what you do not not know?

i've been meaning to get back on the blogging bandwagon for ages but i've been lousy at focusing. i mean, i'm never great at focusing but it's been particularly bad lately. i've also made the horrific mistake of following the news too closely, not just in the last few weeks but in the past several months. i realize now that that isn't healthy. [no pun intended.] my head has been so wrapped up in politics that shifts from moment to moment, half-baked debates about social policy, trying to track what's happening behind the smoke and mirrors of the biggest news stories because we all know that those are the things that are really going to affect how we live. there are few things worse for anxiety than knowing that your dark fears about the chaos of the world are actually pretty close to the truth; and the thrill that comes from being able to say "i told you so" is remarkably short-lived.

however, it's pretty much impossible to deny that we'r…

making faces :: a lip for all seasons [winter edition]

it seems oddly canadian to have two posts in a row about winter/ cold/ snow, but they're obviously unrelated. after all, for most people winter is a season, but in colour analysis terms, winter is part of what you are, an effect of the different wavelengths that comprise the physical part of the thing known as "you". this might be getting a little heady for a post about lipstick. moving on...

if you've perused the other entries in this series without finding something that really spoke to you [figuratively- lipsticks shouldn't actually speak to you- get help], you may belong in one of the winter seasons. winter, like summer, is cool in tone; like spring, it is saturated; like autumn, it is dark. that combination of elements creates a colour palette [or three] that reads as very "strong" to most. and on people who aren't part of the winter group, such a palette would look severe. the point of finding a palette that reads "correctly" on you…

making faces :: a lip for all seasons [summer edition]

this may seem like an odd time to think about summer, but not to think about coolness. it can be hard to wrap your head around the idea that summer is considered "cool" in colour analysis terms and, in my opinion, reads as the coolest of the cool, because everything in it is touched with the same chilly grey. winter may have the coldest colours, but its palette is so vivid that it distracts the eye. everything in summer is fresh and misty, like the morning sky before the sun breaks through. in my original post on the season, i compared it to monet's paintings of waterlilies at his garden in giverny and, if i do say so, i think that's an apt characterisation.

finding lip colours touched with summer grey and blue is, as you might expect, kind of tricky. the cosmetic world seems obsessed with bringing warmth, which doesn't recognise that some complexions don't support it well. [also, different complexions support different kinds of warmth, but that's another…