nathan 3.0

space.

Thu, 11 Dec 2008 01:56:34 GMT

i'm tired? you're tired. and he's never coming back.

pretender.

Mon, 08 Dec 2008 05:49:27 GMT

i am alone, aiming my gun, never before this confident. way down, the west has fallen again.

pockets.

Mon, 24 Nov 2008 17:05:24 GMT

to slip into that cast again, too simple. today i am arms full of bundled money. outside... nothing. the air too thin, too much noise. clatter and clutter. to take my breath away, take me between punctuation.

-

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 19:19:02 GMT

...there was a picture of a whale. i looked into its tiny wise eye and wondered where that eye was now. was it alive and swimming, or had it died long ago, or was it dying now, right this second? when a whale dies, it falls down through the ocean slowly, over the course of a day. all the other fish see it fall, like a giant statue, like a building, but slowly, slowly. i focused my attention on the eye; i tried to reach down inside of it, toward the real whale, the dying whale, and i whispered, it's not your fault.
-miranda july, 'the shared patio'

so long.

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 19:05:36 GMT

i am sorry. i no longer remember your name. but we will always have this song.

planes.

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 01:53:05 GMT

smart in attire, wholly lovely.
i think i blocked out winter.

-

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 18:20:58 GMT

when your dreams are of some world that never was or of some world that never will be and you are happy again then you will have given up. do you understand? and you cant give up. i wont let you.
-cormac mccarthy, the road.

snap.

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 18:53:50 GMT

frail but focused.
get the word out.
shit's going down.

-

Sat, 29 Mar 2008 04:25:03 GMT

laughing in my room. as you try to explain me i will spit you, yellow, out of my mouth.
-ondaatje

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 03:39:26 GMT

"Froth at the top, dregs at the bottom, but the middle excellent."

-Voltaire

-

Sun, 23 Mar 2008 04:43:21 GMT

Passing wet chicory that lies in the field like the sky.

miss misery... i get it now.

hound.

Fri, 14 Mar 2008 04:12:25 GMT

hounded in the way the light chases.
you don't rise from that, son.

slampigs.

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 03:01:32 GMT

i have lived in the eye.
i have lived in the heart.
i have lived in the basement.
i am still intact.

smolder.

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 18:23:00 GMT

the times, close to the heart. the heat, everything.

-

Wed, 12 Dec 2007 04:11:10 GMT

no, they are only birds...

-

Fri, 30 Nov 2007 18:39:51 GMT

people are no more interesting than waves and mountains.
-d.e.

-

Thu, 22 Nov 2007 20:56:03 GMT

there is nothing wrong with everything wrong.

thrones.

Mon, 24 Sep 2007 17:17:09 GMT

it was my first week there, and someone dropped dead behind the muffin case at 5 AM. they brought in crisis counselors and everything. it was really something. she was probably 70.

this could be the start of something really great, i thought.

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 00:25:31 GMT

I was, of course, reading Ecclesiastes at night in a very old Bible that had heavy pages. At first I read it over and over again every night, and then I read it once every night, and now I was just looking at the punctuation marks.

Actually I was counting them, a chapter every night. I was putting the number of punctuation marks down in a notebook, in neat columns. I called the notebook "The Punctuation Marks in Ecclesiastes." i thought it was a nice title. I was doing it as a kind of study in engineering.

Certainly before they build a ship they know how many rivets it takes to hold the ship together and the various sizes of the rivets. I was curious about the number of rivets and the sizes of those rivets in Ecclesiastes, a dark and beautiful ship sailing on our waters.

-richard brautigan.

-

Mon, 20 Aug 2007 01:14:55 GMT

I had a rental car waiting ouside. It had stained baby clothes and a crack pipe on the backseat. I put my hand inside a plastic bag I found in the glove compartment and carefully lifted them out, dumping it all into a FedEx dropbox outside the hotel lobby. A FedEx employee once tried to steal my breakfast. I hold grudges for decades. Frankly, if I didn't hold grudges, I'd have nothing to play with on Christmas Day.
-warren ellis, crooked little vein.

-

Fri, 13 Jul 2007 03:42:38 GMT

why is a mystery so terrifying to us as adults? is it because our worlds have become worlds of routine and safety and order the older we've grown? is it because we have learned the answer to everything and that answer is that there is never a secret passageway, a hidden treasure, or a note written in code to save us from our darkest moments? why are we struggling so hard against believing there is a world we don't know? is it more frightening to accept our lives as they are than it is to entertain a fantasy of hope?

family haircut day.

Fri, 08 Jun 2007 15:30:44 GMT

shut in. nothing beams as proudly as a scarred trigger finger.

mathletes.

Mon, 12 Feb 2007 18:10:51 GMT

just locked doors. buckets of pine cones, paint rollers, transformers. the bird feather float, scraped backs and bellies.

whether it holds you hostage or holds your hand, prepare for your wind being knocked out.

poof.

Fri, 02 Feb 2007 19:14:42 GMT

night skies deafening, scratched retinas and your visible breath. we too ring until nauseous, swing like vertical blinds.

-

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 03:00:13 GMT

In the world according to the positivist, the inspiring thing about scrambled eggs is that any way you turn them, they're sunny side up. In the world according to the existentialist, the hopeless thing about scrambled eggs is that any way you turn them they're scrambled.

-tom robbins, still life with woodpecker