in hiding
(Source: cinoh, via astoldbyemmaline)
“he praised her loins with a conversation of moans”
-leonard cohen
photo by filippo minelli
if music were currency i would have no job
i would be a collector of coins, old and exotic
i would take them out to polish, gaze at, to feel their tiny weight in my palm
i would know how it felt to hold these coins but not their worth nor how to spend them
let’s play a game i like. it’s called making out to t rex.
photos by eddy templeton
silhouette of left behind from moving the still-warm corpse of a roadkilled coyote. the salty silhouette formed by passing cars on a winter highway.
photo by Dylan Menges
(via sexular)
“a sense of calm envelops me, a feeling close to rapture. swimming is one of the best things in my life. it has never solved any problems, but has done no harm, and nothing has ever ruined it for me. swimming”
- haruki murakami
Photograph by Douglas E Pope
memory lapse at the waterfront
dear jolene,
i am sitting under the tree writing to you. how are you? well i hope. over here things are as usual. the paper shortage is getting worse and worse, which is why i am writing to you on saran wrap. finding an envelope should be real interesting but i guess it doesn’t really matter, as you will never get this letter anyway. i don’t even know whether you are still alive. i don’t know whether california is still there, or whether it finally dropped off into the sea like everyone always said it would. sometimes i feel like going down to the waterfront, finding a boat and rowing to california, if that’s what it takes. except of course there aren’t any boats. i can’t even remember the last time i saw a boat.
i think of you when i’m sitting under this tree. we sure had some wild times together, didn’t we kiddo?
last week the rodents tried to cut the tree down. of course we didn’t let them. we threw garbage and they left; it never fails. they said they wanted to make it into paper, i dont know what they’d do with paper anyway, except maybe wipe their butts. bunch of illiterates.
it’s funny about the memory. i can’t remember how long it’s been this way. sometimes i forget altogether there ever was a Before.
anyways hugs and kisses,
your old pal,
chartreuse
~
dear jolene,
i haven’t heard from you in ages. what’s the matter, didn’t you get my letter? maybe you forgot. before mum died she used to forget things all the time. i can’t remember what it was that killed her in the end.
the rodents are trying to act tough again. they came around yesterday saying we were hoarding paper and that they’d have to resort to nasty measures unless we handed it over. as you can see, i’m still writing on saran wrap. good old saran wrap-never a shortage of that.
billy helped me throw garbage at them until they left. i guess they’re not so tough.
love,
chartreuse
~
dear jolene,
did my hair again today. i wouldn’t want people to think i can’t live up to my name. why don’t they try making paper out of garbage? it’s the only thing that seems to grow around here. i forget what else i had to say, but in any case, keep in touch.
love,
c.
~
dear jolene,
guess what!!!??? this is the best news in years!!! billy and i got ambitious yesterday and sorted through the top two stories of garbage. you know, into a) useful b) might be useful someday and c) yuck. useful only as ammunition in rodent raids.
but then miracle of miracles! i found a piece of paper!!! isn’t that wild? so this is your birthday present.
love,
chartreuse
p.s. when’s your birthday anyway?
~
dear jolene,
i just don’t know what to do. the reason i’m so down is that the killer fog is here again and i can’t go to visit the tree. what if something happens to it while i’m gone?
love and peas,
c.
~
jolly jolene,
wonder of wonders. yesterday under the tree i met Someone New. isn’t that terrific? there haven’t been any newcomers in a fog’s age. it was really An Event.
haven’t seen hide nor hair of billy in three days since the killer fog left, which is a shame cause i sure could use a good lay…
but
the stranger asked me to go for a hike with him tomorrow. isn’t that wild? he must be a real weirdo. whoever heard of going for hikes? i mean Nobody But Nobody goes for hikes.
see ya, toots.
your chartreuse.
p.s. what’s a hike?
~
dear jolene,
b. is back. he found three more tires. we hung them up in the twenty-second story. that’s seventeen of them we have now. a regular gymnasium. i should invite the rodent’s up here and watch them all crash into each other. that would be a real laugh, huh, jolene?
love ya,
chartreuse
p.s. i asked billy what a hike was and he said it was something skirts do. skirts hike up, he said. that billy, sometimes i don’t understand him at all.
~
jolene,
i forgot to tell you about the hike!!! how could i have forgotten? a hike is a long walk it seems. the stranger’s name is kent. he has cigarettes! isn’t that wild? he gave me a pack for my birthday. i can’t remember when my real birthday is so he said it’s today. cool by me. the cigarettes are named for him. he must’ve been a real somebody in his day. with paper around them yet!! maybe i’ll kiss billy-o goodbye and shack up with this cigarette man.
c.
~
dearest darlingest jolene,
i don’t believe it. the most amazing amazing thing happened (it must be my birthday again) the cigarette man and i went hiking down by the waterfront, and we found ANOTHER TREE!!! can you believe it? we sat there smoking cigarettes and wondering whether we could get the trees to mate, and there’d be more. kent said that’s how they do it. mating is when you have two of the same thing and they make more. kent is great. he’s a lot smarter than billy, that’s for sure. hiking skirts, boy oh boy.
love, lots of it,
chartreust
p.s. what’s a skirt?
~
jolene.
i haven’t written in ages. billy joined the rodents. he said the only way to survive. survive what, is what i want to know. we’re all gonna die anyway, right? so what’s the big deal? also i don’t know where kent is. i wish he’d come back so’s we could make the trees mate.
c.
p.s. i’d rather die of amnesia than join those creeps.
~
jolene,
do trees die? i sure hope not. i don’t much care whether we die but i sure hope trees don’t.
i went to look for the other tree by myself. i got lost. it took me two days to find my way home. i didn’t find the tree. it seems like every time i go to the waterfront my memory gets worse.
love and kisses,
chartreuse
~
dear jolene,
some of the rodents came by yesterday to tell me i should join them. they said now that i’m living alone, what with kent and billy gone, we’ll never be able to continue the human race. have you ever heard of such a thing? personally, i’m sick of running. i threw some garbage at them and they left. gee, you’d think they’d be immune by now.
love,
chartruse
~
hi pumpkin,
worse and worse. the rodents got kent. i don’t mean he joined them like billy did, though i guess it amounts to the same thing. i don’t know what they did with him but the way they’ve been behaving it sounds like something very nasty. i don’t trust them, not for one minute. i sure hope they give him back so’s we can get the trees to mate.
still love ya,
chartruse
~
j.
i forgot to write you but luckily today i remembered. what reminded me is a found some letters to you i’d forgotten to send. how could i have done that? but it was good because it reminded me.
aces wild,
c.
~
jolene,
this letter is different from the other because it’s written on the tree. (the one i didn’t lose) i found a knife to do it with. i like it better than saran wrap, even though it’s taking me a week to do it. who cares, time is cheap around here.
but i thought it would be neat if the rodents ever get me like they got kent and billy, that somebody will come by years and years from now and they’ll know that chartreuse and jolene were best friends. i like that.
lots of love,
your chartreuse.
p.s. guess what? you can see the sky today. isn’t that wild?
by ursula pflug
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
From Sean Nicholas Savage’s album “Movin Up In Society” 2010 Arbutus Records
:)
What I cannot do now is the sign of what I shall do hereafter. The sense of impossibility is the beginning of all possibilities. Because this temporal universe was [always] a paradox and an impossibility…
— Sri Aurobindo
