Sunday, June 7, 2015

P.O.D./Flordacana Pass-a-grille 6/7/15

I always feel safe and potentialize when I can nest one obsession/recurrence into another. I know this puts me somewhere between plain magical thinking and a diagnosis on the DSM. That's OK.

Pigeons are for lovers. In plaid shirts and bubble dresses; memorial for Ms. Sass, a 24 yr. old girl. Bolted to the beach bar picnic table; he sleeps; when the water is very flat there is an electric scum on top, it also gets under the greenish-yellow surfaces of objects and elevates it; bleary; these little girls were playing chicken with violent gulls, waving French fries int he air and then diving for cover--I was right there with them; sea pods; the sidewalk


on Twitter

, where this blog lives now. because it can be read and posted to through that app, one-handed, on my back, by a body of water, or in the cool olive green light above my mattress. This is articulation my spine had not dreamed of before.

My blog lived on Tumblr for a minute

because it is so much easier to access from my phone. fallinginrealtime.tumblr This is the feed. No, I don't like it. I can't add another virtual box. I'll make due with Twitter.

Real Time Archive