I am a bit hesitant to break the narrative voice this blog presents, but then again, you all know it’s me writing, so there’s no harm in a bit of shameless self-indulgence.
What have I been up to these past days since I last posted? Well, I have been listening to everything old and new from Bright Eyes. That always gets me in a very pensive and sad mood, which is something I seek a lot, so it’s nothing negative in my eyes. And Conor just makes more sense to me than most people, which – considering his perceived awkwardness in some interviews – is quite worrying. To get what I mean, watch the videos from YouTube I have posted below.
If he makes sense to you too, then I am infinitely calmed.
In other news, there was a HUGE Buffy reunion in California at Paley Fest on Thursday. It was so huge that even Sarah Michelle Gellar made it. Looking lovely as always and according to Tony Laszlo from CC2K being very gracious.
So in order to celebrate this most rare of events, here’s the link to the 70+ page Buffy paper I wrote to earn my Bachelor’s degree in Media studies for all of you to enjoy.
Don’t worry, it’s not all scientific, I made it fun to read as well! Comments are welcome, be they geeky or academic.
I am working on two more creative/poetic/dreamy posts to hit this spot over the Easter holidays, so stay tuned for more…
March 19, 2008
SPRING (Seasonal Palpitations Rouse Intrepid Neurological Ghosts) [Part VIII of my "Thinking In Acronyms" series]
The swollen gland presenting as a chunk of wood lodged in my throat refusing to be swallowed makes it impossible to chuckle at Easter snow in the flatlands. April weather in March fares on the ticket of ridiculous and global warming.
Wading through air like molasses – another sensation created by viral intruders – everything happens too slowly. Who pushed slow motion? Puddles of sea-like magnitude open up before my feet. Not only did it snow, it rained as well, how does that work? Urban obstacles, of course. In the country you go ‘round, in the city you have to wade through or get run over by traffic. A sigh and a coughing fit carry me across.
Impressions and imprints you made quickly fade now. I am like good dough, if you don’t keep impressing and imprinting, I return to my original state.
After all these years I still use varied metaphors I borrowed from a single source. In my defense, I also bake a lot, dough is on my mind.
I whisper a soft goodbye to the last coins I fished from my pocket, now spent to deliver chocolate love to the world. Chocolate insanity is more like it. Must have been viral madness even back then. But remembering my holy word I couldn’t bear the guilt of bailing out now.
Backwards the molasses has turned to jell-o and the sickness of the town – cars – aggravates the sickness of me.
When pillows are softer than you can bear and bring back memories of skin, it’s best to avoid resting your head in them.
My cottoned ears drown out the sounds you make. Better for it, they were lies anyway.
"I can be quiet. Wish you could hear me."