while breathing, not profanity by la-tigresa, literature
Literature
while breathing, not profanity
webster says: profane means not sacred, or irreligious.
no thoughts on swears.
imagining
sulphur, salty water in your eyes.
reading, tap-tap the pencil, objectivist philosophy,
as blue light journeys scummy from the television.
last week it was the theravada school of buddhism; you had mala beads.
at night you said the prayer for metta,
loving kindness.
in the morning you were strong.
double-crossed at a traffic light you cursed and flung your finger up
in high defiance.
too proud now for eastern wisdom,
too empty for atheism,
you sip milk.
christ brings to mind
the hippies from the wharf
and stodgy pudgy over-perfumed sunday
My swirling multitude of thoughts
Harangue me day to day,
A caravan, come brilliantly
To spirit me away,
They dull the edges of the knife,
Of honest pain and frantic strife,
And prod me gently from their life
For I am wont to stay.
And lo! Upon their peaks would rest
A haven for my mind,
So beautiful a place in real life,
I've yet to find,
I summon you to join me there,
And see me laying, stricken,
bare,
With roses pleated in my hair,
But life is too unkind.
In love I seek the life that I
Should wish to soon be mine,
I would be yours for every day's
Tumultuous ride, and bind
The vagrants I call fingertips
To yours, so to
no, I won't.
let me cut you.
let me sear your flesh like hot wire.
the centimeter-long scab on the tip of my right index finger,
just under my fingernail,
is fascinating me.
it was a bread knife, at work today.
bled like a sonofabitch for about ten minutes
as I went about my business,
too busy for a band-aid.
i dreamt of smoking pot last night,
and now i want it.
i want to toke away my worries
and fill myself with yet another emptiness,
a pleasant one this time.
i hope i live to see tomorrow,
i hope i don't.
it's raining now- i can tell
the city feels for me.
what- a- beautiful- sight!
stuttery reflections in the smooth st
to my parents
why is it that in seeking comfort, I turn not to you,
but to an inanimate device?
why is it that in wanting love I smile wryly at sexual acts
and shy from your arms?
why, pray tell, do I think of you now
as just another passing phase,
in the grand scheme of my life…?
why is it that you are the cause,
and not the relief,
of my emptiness?
why do you sleep at night,
and not I?
i am a life-actress, like it or not.
i dare the world to toss whatever obstacle it has, at me,
so that I may cry and vainly pity myself
for an audience only I can see.
i am quiet because you like it,
loud, because you like it better,
funny
Current Residence: everywhere and nowhere Favourite genre of music: experimental psychedelic electronic symphonic trance rock (HA) Favourite photographer: matthew newman-saul (chimera.13th-floor.org/) Operating System: xp Skin of choice: anyone's but my own Favourite cartoon character: daria Personal Quote: that shit happens.
Favourite Visual Artist
frank frazetta, dali, delli colli (movie director)
Favourite Movies
arthur, la vita è bella
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
muse, radiohead, elliot smith
Favourite Writers
ann rice, ayn rand, terry pratchett
Favourite Games
mancala
Tools of the Trade
a canon ae-1. it is 35 years old.
Other Interests
photography (my life), writing, reading, piano, roaming the streets
i am now the proud owner of a plustek negative scanner.
it is the best fucking thing in the world.
it was cheap.
it scans fast.
it scans big.
it scans great.
it runs with xp.
i adore it.
more than words.
mmmmmmm.
hence, all my film photographs can be found at http://oshinn.deviantart.com
ladies and gentlemen, i have purchased a brand-new negative scanner. once it arrives, i shall commence stunning you with amazing photography. until then, i will update with a few things that i've taken since i, depressingly, found out my OLD negative scanner is extremely old- for example best used with windows 95- and is impossible to hook up to regular computers.
<3