December 2011
2 posts
22 tags
sometimes i feel as though my volumes of bukowski...
I guess it’s because I’ve carried each one of them around at different times in my life over the last few years, that the stuff I’ve tucked inside of them can say more about me than I can say about myself because they’re more objective than the words I bleed into my notebooks.
Junior year of highschool I carried my notebooks in piles on my arm because I was too stupid to...
21 tags
So last night after spending almost fourteen...
and after I continuously inhaled toxic oil paint fumes, glue, clouds of charcoal dust and so on, I finally got to bed around 3:00 am.
It was there that I had a dream about the future. I was watching it like a movie, so I didn’t play a role in this dream. Noam Chomsky was depressed, destitute, heavily bearded and ignored. nobody knew his name. He was a walking Jekyll/Hyde of cynicism and...