| Rendered Speechless |
[Nov. 6th, 2010|02:40 am]
Moosebroccoli
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What does one say to those they neglect, forget or take for granted? Sorry? Oops? I was doing my hair for the last few years? My dog ate me? Would you like to see my boobs?
I used to get so much from livejournal, and the wonderful folks I met here. It brought me back to my creative, positive self. A self I had locked up in the attic of my mind. I, after taking so much, abandoned that which was, and those whom were so much a catalyst to my creative rebirth.
Sorry? I think? |
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| My life |
[Feb. 1st, 2010|01:35 am]
Moosebroccoli
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My life is like a poem
That doesn't rhyme
No meter
No beat
No time
I am phrasing
And alliteration
The train
Not the station
Fantastic and frightening
Fractal n' lightning
Going up
And coming down
Sometimes lie
Most times true
I ain't living
No haiku |
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| wow |
[Jan. 23rd, 2010|07:45 pm]
Moosebroccoli
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It has sure been a long time since i have posted in my journal. June 6, 2007 to be exact. I don't think I have anything particularly life-changing to say, or anything that will change the next hour, for that matter. I have been through a lot of change lately, some good, some not so... but I do remember how writing, creatively, brought me a level of comfort, and it kind of keeps the brain buttered. So, I am going to try to make consistent entries in my journal, and see if the universe let's me ease on down the road. |
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| Ode to a friend... |
[Jun. 6th, 2007|09:16 am]
Moosebroccoli
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I sometimes cry quietly in my sleep for those moments of unrequited joy that only the true love of another human being can bring upon a soul... the reflection of self mirrored in the eyes of someone who sees right through the walls of one's common rooms... the freedom experienced in the simple trust of friendship, unspoiled by the taint of trivialities of the societal condition...
... hold on tight to that which brings even a peek of the light, for each peek is a factor in the sum-total of that which we can actually see in the dark vacuum of the universe. |
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| Happy New Year |
[Jan. 3rd, 2007|09:05 am]
Moosebroccoli
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A fresh year is like a bowl of cold cereal
as the milk is poured... still crunchy,
waiting to soften against the palate of time
and the taste of that which is familiar |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 17th, 2006|08:06 pm]
Moosebroccoli
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Me...
I have an old cat.
I have an old journal (that I have been neglecting).
I have an old pain in my neck.
I have an old theory on life (that is like a new-found friend).
I have an old guitar (that is making music again).
I have an old pair of thick silk socks (oh no).
I have a new job.
I have a new house (which is up for sale).
I have a new outlook on life (well, maybe an old outlook that I welcome with open arms)
I have a new company.
I have a new haircut.
I have a new pair of thick silk socks (oh yeah).
You? |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 12th, 2006|07:26 am]
Moosebroccoli
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I want to live, love, be me, share me, share others,
and create a space of wonder about myself that will
leave a tingle of joy in the hearts of whomever steps
into my periphery. I can sense the magic... it is not
quite tangible, I cannot see, touch or taste it...
but I now believe, again, that it is there, waiting
for me to drink of it. |
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| The Beetle |
[Sep. 5th, 2005|08:52 pm]
Moosebroccoli
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My mom used to drive a Volkswagen Beetle. It was green. My brother and I used to have to sit in the back seat with our feet tucked under our butts because the car was so rusty there were no floorboards left. We could, if we chose, put our feet right through the floor of the car and place them on the road like the Flinstones. Mom told us to keep them in the car or we would pay dire consequences. Mom was scary when she gave that face. On rainy days, water would splash up through the holey floor, soaking my brother and me. We thought this was a gas. Mom would look back over her shoulder and say "try not to get wet" as we cruised the treeless tropical rainforest in pursuit of destinations past.
I remember once we had just pulled up to the house in the old Beetle. Mom got out first, walking around the car to let me and my brother out, she was not in a good mood because she was yelling at us to hurry up, that was when it happened... my little hand got shut in the door. In her haste my mom had slammed the door of the car onto my hand. My hand obviously was not able to keep up with the rest of the disembarking schedule. Mom turned around and told me to hurry up, she asked why I was just standing there like a "something"... I can't remember what. I guess I just stared at her, getting paler than a red-headed little sprite should get. I don't remember it hurting all that much, I just remember tears running down my face. I knew mom was mad and I didn't dare inconvenience her any more by telling her I was stuck in the car. When mom finally realized what had happened she broke down. Guilt (that guilt you only feel when you cause hurt to a child) mixed with her already angry state brought her to near hysterics. She opened the car door and freed my hand. I remember wondering if this was what parents meant when they said "this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you", a statement which I never really came to an understanding with. I guess the car door had actually latched closed. I was lucky... my hand was only bruised and swollen. I got some ice cream.
I think my favourite part about riding in the back of the Volks was staring at the road. If I leaned forward as far as I could, straining against my lap belt, I could get my face about six inches from the hole in the floor. As the car drove, the road would whizz by at about a billion miles per hour. The more I tried to focus on the road, the dizzier I would become. As I got dizzier, the blood would rush to my head from leaning forward. I would see patterns, spots, and lights... and a strangely ethereal soundtrack would start to play in my head. Mom would freak out when she caught me doing this, which made the event all the more alluring. She would get really mad when she asked me why I was doing it, and I would tell her it felt good. I think mom was a little worried about my psychological future. In retropsect, she may have been right. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 31st, 2005|10:43 pm]
Moosebroccoli
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I have been doing some soul searching. I can't find one. I search and search. I go around in circles and all I can find is my own ass. I don't think my soul is up there. I know there is a soul in me somewhere. I have faith. Maybe its on a dimmer switch, turned down low. I think I can hear it humming faintly. I think my soul must be breaded... crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside. I can't wait to find it. What a meeting it will be. Me and my soul. Maybe we will have dinner, or take in a movie. I would like that. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 2nd, 2005|01:48 am]
Moosebroccoli
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The main reason I have been absent for so long.
Love,
B.
Bonfire Music Festival |
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