The Story Project: No Pistachio
Once upon a summer, long ago, I was in a city I didn’t know. The streets were cobbled and mazy, and wound around tall buildings of ramshackle stone and shuttered windows. Washing lines hung between them like children’s cup-and-string telephones. Sun baked the red roofs and bathed narrow alleys in…
I think this is the best story I’ve written this year so far (honesty, not immodesty, I promise!) Read it if you have five minutes to spare.
If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern.
William Blake. I’m currently reading Huxley’s The Doors of Perception (in french) and it’s amazing.
I think this is my spirit animal.
(Source: puugs)
The Story Project: The Ten Ways I Didn't Die Today
The first was when I
woke from sleep,
steady heartbeat,
breathing deep…
If only I had a steed as noble as this!
want
The Story Project: The White Tree
Last night I had a dream that I was going to be beheaded.
I was kneeling on a podium with my cheek pressed against a wooden block, although it felt more like an uncomfortable pillow. Thus is the nature of dreams. My body lay contorted behind me; tangled in a duvet, I imagine, in real life. In the…
They should make the opposite of Ghetto Hikes. Drag public school kids through the ghetto and put all the shit they say on tumblr.
(Source: ghettohikes)
F Dm You and me, have seen everything to see Bb From Bangkok to Calgary F C (barchord) And the soles of your shoes F Dm Are all worn down, the time for sleep is now Bb But it's nothing to cry about F C Dm Bbm Because we'll hold each other soon, in the blackest of rooms
Durham I miss you.
