Wednesday, July 29, 2009

thistles.

Colin Meloy just told me that the prettiest whistles won't wrestle the thistles undone.

Monday, July 27, 2009

sloth house.

as much a sloth and sin is an appealing way to pass the time, being back at uni is kinda nice. i enjoy being forced into productivity. dictatorships seem to appeal to me in this way (no).
I got the fliers(bookmarks!) for a lil exhibition im involved in today, pretty exciting.
pressed flowers and dead moths are best when found, not killed.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

caves.



nick cave is amazing and ridiculous and ridiculously amazing. im pretty sure he knows every word ever and then ran out of words so he started to invent them. I'm reading his book "and the ass saw the angel" at the moment, its filled with pretty tales of black tar animal traps and shoe boxes under beds filled with dead things and locks of hair and ceaseless rain and women throwing themselves down wells. its breaking me, especially when he spells 'my' phonetically as 'mah' and the like.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

tacos.

I bought a camera today

to be continued...

moths.

The moths come at night to eat holes in the curtains so that we might feast on dusty shafts of light while they lay sleeping under the undergrowth with the capillarous threads of trees and small bugs bleached white with the darkness there.
The forest is dipping her fingers and toes and ventricle woes into their clammy white skin while we are still waking.

spilt.

I've been spilling milk a lot and its soiling the sheets and they're beginning to grow mold and a delicate, piercing scent.
I hope you don't mind the smell of sour milk while you sleep.
These are some old works constructed for the uglygirls art community some time last year .
I like these pictures now much more than when i made them, but im not sure how i feel about my habit of loving in retrospect. makes the present pretty lame comparatively.

home.

this moth house is my new home for words and pictures about dusty shafts of light and moth eaten linen and floor boards that creak. written for an invisible audience. the internet is like that sometimes.