File under: Shit that actually happened.
(To clarify… we don’t have a thought control machine.)
![thedailywhat:
[tombrazelton via d|a / original artwork by: adri t.]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp25i2aQOb1qzpwi0o1_500.jpg)
![left-handers are hot.
shithouseshowcase:
I’m a day late and I am sorry sorry sorry!
My entry this week was partially inspired by Christina’s post, and also Jonathan Safran Foer’s latest project Tree of Codes. If you’re not familiar with the project, Foer used The Street of Crocodilesby Bruno Schulz (apparently his favourite book - I’ve read some of it, it’s pretty good) as a canvas and then literally cut out words and phrases in order to create an entirely new story.
Instead of using my favourite book, however, I decided to use the first 50 pages of a book I neither love nor hate - If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things by Jon McGregor. And rather than cutting slashing the book up (only a monster would do such a thing) I covered the book with pencil marks.
The following is the result (bear in mind I was in a rush to get this done):
The city, the middle of a street, the rush of traffic, crying sirens sing for a man with tired hands.
I understand, I sat, and I understand. I remember the moment - pushing the woman away. Her lips hanging, oh my God, on to wat s…he said. I remember talking slowly.
I hadn’t been there, there was a warning. I was missed, I wasn’t paying attention.
Woman ran, turning back. Man call, trying to end The tense. Nobody’s listening. He stop[s] hoping t…o catch her.
He closes his eyes, settling, sleepy, re…living the shadows of the people they w…ere. The girl is thin…e…r, waiting for things, wonders, photographs, things – her direction. She didn’t know where [sh]e’d be in two or three years time. I[He] said no one know[s], other people don’t know, He said, st…ay still with me. And she stands and watches her blood slow as [s]he gets corroded.
And He (selfish fucking wanker) thought everything was going to last forever – against his promises, h…e faultered. He left her hanging still (looking like ghost). He hustles out, does not say a word of concern, she tries to talk but all he can do is drift out and in, back to bed and she kisses his face, his body. He is clenching and unclenching his fists.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lncd6touR11qfesnoo1_1280.jpg)
left-handers are hot.
I’m a day late and I am sorry sorry sorry!
My entry this week was partially inspired by Christina’s post, and also Jonathan Safran Foer’s latest project Tree of Codes. If you’re not familiar with the project, Foer used The Street of Crocodilesby Bruno Schulz (apparently his favourite book - I’ve read some of it, it’s pretty good) as a canvas and then literally cut out words and phrases in order to create an entirely new story.
Instead of using my favourite book, however, I decided to use the first 50 pages of a book I neither love nor hate - If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things by Jon McGregor. And rather than cutting slashing the book up (only a monster would do such a thing) I covered the book with pencil marks.
The following is the result (bear in mind I was in a rush to get this done):
The city, the middle of a street, the rush of traffic, crying sirens sing for a man with tired hands.
I understand, I sat, and I understand. I remember the moment - pushing the woman away. Her lips hanging, oh my God, on to wat s…he said. I remember talking slowly.
I hadn’t been there, there was a warning. I was missed, I wasn’t paying attention.
Woman ran, turning back. Man call, trying to end The tense. Nobody’s listening. He stop[s] hoping t…o catch her.
He closes his eyes, settling, sleepy, re…living the shadows of the people they w…ere. The girl is thin…e…r, waiting for things, wonders, photographs, things – her direction. She didn’t know where [sh]e’d be in two or three years time. I[He] said no one know[s], other people don’t know, He said, st…ay still with me. And she stands and watches her blood slow as [s]he gets corroded.
And He (selfish fucking wanker) thought everything was going to last forever – against his promises, h…e faultered. He left her hanging still (looking like ghost). He hustles out, does not say a word of concern, she tries to talk but all he can do is drift out and in, back to bed and she kisses his face, his body. He is clenching and unclenching his fists.
Blue - adj. characterized by profanity or cursing; “foul-mouthed and blasphemous”; “blue language”; “profane words”
Languages used in order: French, Italian, English, Japanese, Spanish, Dutch, Polish, Arabic, Filipino, French, Russian, German.
So I have this friend who often gets really annoyed at me when I walk too fast. Partly because she has really short legs and can’t keep up, but mostly because I don’t give myself a chance to actually observe my surroundings. I guess I figure that since I walk the same streets over and over, there’s nothing new to see.
But she’s right. It’s kind of arrogant of me to think there’s nothing to be found on misty suburban streets at 8 a.m. or tall buildings that have seen better days, or piss drenched alleyways, or the mug I drink from every morning.
- Simon
