Perch @perchingpath@eldritch.cafe
Scarp scree clatter. Register swerves, confusions of scale.
She, elle.
Within 30 miles of Philadelphia, because of a curse.
Joined Sep 2018
The ghost haunts a subway bench at 13th Street until the fluorescent tubes wear out. The ghost haunts the sidewalk flower beds at Market & 38th until the ornamental cabbages desiccate.
Brushed hands with the vet tech as I handed him a carrier-full of ill cat and, later, after hearing a relatively rosy prognosis, realized it'd been the first time I'd touched someone in nearly three months. That's an awful long time to go without checking whether I'm a ghost yet.
Sat weeping in bed having finally escaped a pseudo-dream of pure unbearable sound/texture, smooth-rasping cotton-corium-contrail-?-?, the sort of nightmare I must have had as an infant who always woke up inconsolable.
Perch
boosted
Image from page 21 of "Character and treatment of swamp or muck soils [microform]" (1909)
https://www.flickr.com/photos/internetarchivebookimages/20621465586/
@Sylvhem Not even that. I'm afraid I've been a fraud from the start. ;)
@stolas If they wanted their architectural flourishes intact, they should have either offered canapés or not invited me.
@Sylvhem Sorry, I've lied. I can't even bite through a pebble with my pathetic human teeth, let alone devour that sort of architectural flourish.
@Sylvhem I arrived at the party dressed as the ravages of time and soon realized scuffing floors & strewing dust wouldn't be enough to win me the costume contest.
Bit that finial clean off. Snap! Gone. One less orb on your manse.
Suddenly I dove under the bed and gently bundled a stunned mouse into my handkerchief. That brings me even with the cats at 1-all for the season.
Chain-chewing Sichuan peppercorns to hoax my tongue into reporting an unexpected frost, admonishing the incredulous rest of me not to doubt it.
Emitting frequent gamma-ray bursts to the detriment of my houseplants.
She cut me off four years ago(, worried, I suspect, that I might influence her effete son), but in this morning's dream she told me about the Dister, a type of dog bred for antipathy & muscularity over centuries to create an animal that'd attempt to destroy all other life on sight.
In a better night where you are is serene, restful, & I'm out sweating on a runoff-wrecked wasteland heath 60 miles from nowhere in a crowd whose devout love of explosions, unsullied by patriotism, has us ready to blow up the whole sky.
@everysplendidsun I mean, if so, he does a pretty good impression of being a Brazilian guy named Caio, but he has said his music is about "overcoming the shame of being human" so maybe he'd be into your theory.
My album of the year so far is Moor Jewelry's True Opera. A way through useless bitter fugs of dread, over&over. Punk, I guess, jagged, I guess, but every instrument unavoidable & infinitely textured always like a comforting weight of sea-eroded concrete.
https://moorxjewelry.bandcamp.com/track/look-alive
My album of the year so far is the new Kaatayra, Só Quem Viu o Relâmpago à Sua Direita Sabe. Woven sunshower-metal roar about dissolving into the trees.
https://kaatayra.bandcamp.com/track/desnatura-o-de-si-mesmo
Since turning 30, every period of particular crisis, regardless of length, has turned exactly one of my hairs white. I'm up to 3 on my scalp and 1 above my eye, but I haven't found a logic behind that distribution.
In the dream we spoke to each other as mountaineers. We called out piton positions, admitted we'd started too late in the day and were succumbing to cold & fatigue. Our bodies knelt warm indoors, nailing shirts to the floor until each was outlined by hundreds of dull steel heads.
Found some wild brambles and ate a few ripe, sour berries the birds had missed. If I've made a tragic fruit-identification error and am now dying, keep it to yourself.
Scarp scree clatter. Register swerves, confusions of scale.
She, elle.
Within 30 miles of Philadelphia, because of a curse.
Joined Sep 2018
