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fowlqua
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Name: Sarah
Gender: Female
Interests: late-night keyboard clatter, the video game industry, the sky, psychology, philosophy, linguistics, astronomy, swords, the sky, wild animals, and above all the unnoticed
Expertise: EVERYTHING I wish... right now it is limited to HURDLE DANCES WITH SWORDS
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  scylliannettist
Member Since:
9/28/2004
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| Giving houyhnhnmorwyvern.wordpress.com a try.
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| Clouds, the wisping things, traverse the aca-bowl from edge to edge. I fix my eyes at a curly clump and begin a quiet count. The smeared cephalopods migrate, underbellies nacreous with street-light. My rolling swarm of suspended droplets spills around an airplane trail. I measure its fantastic progress, whisper to myself its name: hail the Ghostly Cephalopodic Galleon, Tossed Upon Woolfian Cloudy Seas.
During a thirty-count journey from one horizon of my vision to the other, the cloud retains no shape, but ever tumbles and uncurls into mayhem, held together only within my knitting stare.
What holds me together? What on earth holds all of me together? The hundred things I know, the thousand things I don't know, the countless steps I skip, the random steps I tarry over. What retards my entropy? At what point, I wonder, might I dissolve into some humming pile of rags under the highway?
Who's watching me?
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| 3 MORE PAGES OF ACCUSING THE MODERN WESTERN AUDIENCE OF ORIENTALISTIC SENTIMENTS AND THEN
wondering what it would be like if my dad actually gets the job in Nigeria.
I guess it's not Lubbock.
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| cut some bluebonnets, legally actually when on private property, interspersed with some small purple aster-looking things and some deep-red round-petaled ones, and surrounded them with great spikes of indian paintbrush. tied together with white ribbon fallen from my pirates fan. then ran around looking for somewhere or someone to present them to and ended up at michelle towards the end of her art show. i'd assembled the easels.
during the art show, consumed several chunks of guyere and chased away the taste of wine with a coke with an "o" sticker on the bottlecap, for ophelia apparently, in humor of some psychedelic hamlet production plans, because of my flowers and my larping garb.
oh yeah, our college night theme was larp, and there were quite a few pool toys involved, and a little too much green body paint. i have grown to like striding down a commons with cape flowing wide. and tearing across fields with the wind lifting my cape. good cape this year, a fuzzed hobbit brown and a weight that really hangs, and a hood that falls over my forehead for hitting books against. a lady on the metro with asymmetrical cornrows and one giant hoop earring reached across the aisle and sort of stroked my cloak.
walked to smashburger then to half-price books: Mystic Warrior: Book One of the Bronze Canticles, monster-sized with an appendix and an opening line of "In the 492nd year of the Dragonkings," after which I read no further ($1), Kafka anthology ($1), memoirish nature descriptions by Annie Dillard ($1), That Hideous Strength (48 cents), and my favorite, Le Guin's A Wizard of Earthsea ($1.75). Then I realized I was still wearing my larping costume and got myself out of the scifi/fantasy section.
I sat on a staircase to read while the others finished up. A little girl with frightening dark eyes, according to Rory, sat next to me and became my friend. Her name was Mackenzie Elizabeth something and she gave me a flower though she was sorry it was squashed from her hand, and I gave her my ball of spanish moss on a stick, one of several dropped from the campus trees this week.
and I'll try not to leave out the two herons, or the squirrel crunching his piece of branch and dropping bits into my hair, or how I completely forgot to go to work this afternoon for the first time.
so, any day in which flowers (or moss balls) pass hands three times is probably good. or any day you spend wearing a hobbit cape in public, I guess. though maybe those are just the small things.
it was good, but there's something I'm trying not to think about.
unrelated news - I'm the script coordinator next year. Thousands of football fans will be hearing my witty, witty words at halftime every game. Thousands. Zillions.
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| and more slavery, dubai this time, where else? will we ever grasp tanstaafl? grotesque reshapings of the coastline, shark tanks lining the hotel walls, and feces washing up on the beach.
and I'm remembering my dad's sudden offhand bitterness after my mom got off the phone with her sister: the cinderella girl supporting an entire household. he doesn't know why, but this happens a lot among filipinos, he says. my mom, too, at aunty nancy's before my dad met her. the giddy neverland of sloth, the allure of pretty things, pulling the world lopsided.
I'm bewildered. but I know that I am lazy too, that I really, secretly just want to stumble upon wells of talent within myself someday so I can ride out the rest of my life upon a lucky, giddy geyser, another shade of black gold. I'm not sure what separates me from the perpetual clubbers, the monkeys with six figures, the slave drivers both unwitting and witting.
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls...
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
Alex K: *contemplating dyes in warhammer online* Should I get sea foam or sea blue? I think sea blue.
Sarah: No! Sea foam.
Evan: Well that settles it. Sea blue.
Sarah: No! Foam is way better. Foam is more poetic.
*Everyone stops listening*
Sarah: Why would you want blue when you could have turbulence and pollution? Why do you want the placid blue when reality is turbulent and dirty?! *frazzles out*
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