June 30, 2013 § 2 Comments
I have finally got around to posting the collection of art and crying stories that people sent me. I hope I have not missed any. You can send yours to firstname.lastname@example.org.
May 10, 2013 § Leave a comment
My best friend died when she was just a young girl. I am not sure if that is true, or even any form of truth for anyone. I can remember some of what it felt like to be a child. I remember houses mostly. Do you long to be alone? Are you no longer alone? I have three weeks here in Iceland and then I return home. Except there is no real home for me anymore. I never quite fit, and being here has helped me to understand that. You know that feeling when you have been mispronouncing a word. Then you learn the right way to say it, and suddenly the word feels foreign slipping from your lips. I have been mispronouncing a lot of words. That is a metaphor. Fuck you. i cried for you today and i hate that I feel that way. The distance between you and me is the distance between me and a mountain. The distance between you and me, me and a mountain.
January 14, 2013 § Leave a comment
And then she starts to cry and she cannot stop so they beat her and she is crying and it is loud and she won’t stop and that’s why they beat her. She keeps to herself mostly and she is named for her favorite song as she cannot remember her own name. She cries on the floor and stairs while they beat her with sticks. Later she looses the paint from her pocket and they laugh and lie to her. She looks like a boy it is safer that way. Stand over there. No, over there. Don’t disturb the people.