[It had started with Orin Incandenza, the cleaning. When relations were strained, or she was seized with anxiety at the seriousness and possible permanence of the thing in the back Bay's co-op, the getting high and cleaning became an important exercise, like creative visualization, a preview of the discipline and order with which she could survive alone if it came to that. She would get high and visualize herself… Continue reading ‘The Mad Storks’, Writing by Dead Writers, David Foster Wallace, #2
Month: September 2012
Over Here!Alone.Ah…
Toshiba Cobalt Blue and I are slowly choosing becoming exiles, for now.
A Short Story, A Spontanous Writing Experiment.
I'll be here all night. Figuring some stuff out. Experimenting with some dark matter. See you at sunrise. I don't even know what im going to write. Couple topics, some old memories, some future events that will never happen but be remembered more than those that did. I was going to keep editing but fuck… Continue reading A Short Story, A Spontanous Writing Experiment.
William S. Burroughs is a Bug
He hangs around on a James Joyce Collection — in Dreamland, MI.
I am where the wild things are.
Always. We're in this thing together. These words are what binds us, ghosts, forever, links us alive with the goodness of the human chain of events; zeros, light, stars, crunch, tears, yes, we're here. love. peace. Be nice. Be cool. Be you. Calm the sway of life. Learn. Grow. Drop. Fail. Just keep going. The world… Continue reading I am where the wild things are.
Adventures In American Writing 