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05 November 2003 @ 11:00 pm
screaming forks  
and only a line remains

Our words perish, mutate, vanish, leading to generations of dilution and distillation. Today we have fourth-hand, fifth-hand, n-hand lectures and contaminated contexts, ones we've confused with and infused within our own. Time burns our works in epoch decomposition. As we try to remember our past, it disintegrates beneath our touch: the edge of our memory can only be so far away from us.

and his ink bled dry as the paper crumbled
only eighteen lines survive countless volumes dead


Though I couldn't really see what I was doing and was therefore operating mostly by guesstimation, I wired my hair up today. Yes, wired - copper wire, beads, pins, a pencil, barrettes, and such were used to pull my hair backwards and upwards. I had to have two out of three roommates help me take it all out.
Current Mood: in pain
Current Music: Love Spirals Downward - Love's Labour Lost
(unmuted)doublesketch on November 10th, 2003 03:19 am (UTC)
n-hand lectures. too bad so many of them are considered canon. i wonder which is worse—that or trying to decipher aristotle from a handful of lecture notes.
(unmuted): i see in the dark through colored lensesdoublesketch on November 10th, 2003 03:19 am (UTC)
and from 'wired hair,' i get an image of a girl set up for ethernet.