I do the nose bridge press: Sliding my glasses up to my forehead. Thumb and middle finger digging into my eyes, where the tear ducts nestle. Feeling the shape of the sockets as film cigarette burns form in the corners of my fade-to-black vision.
I only do it cause I've seen it in the movies. A gesture of completive frustration. Often I'll massage the bridge of my nose to wring out the pressures. No clue whether it works.
These days have been meager on the writing front. The flood of time, post-show, cooled all the auxiliary reactors. Tomorrow marks the 1/3 point and it's still a fight. I'm once again pretty sick of the constant patterns in my writing, my drawing, my voice. To have it bouncing back so much is a sort of psychic pollution I did not anticipate.
There are derisive voices in the echoes. They speak to me like a I'm a child, a placating condescension: "That's cute." "Good for you." "That sure is something!" "Way to go!" Encouragement out of pity.
Eh.
The Geiger counter's out of calibration, that's all. A solid shift, a shake of sight, or some chemical jolt and things will come back in focus. Already I feel the bristle of the tiger's eyes on the nape of my neck....
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Lyric" from MW's word of the day. It means suitable for singing or expressing direct personal emotion.)
Today's "365" Project (Make something that flies. So I looked up some paper airplane designs and liked this one best. It does NOT fly well.)
"The Flopper"
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I only do it cause I've seen it in the movies. A gesture of completive frustration. Often I'll massage the bridge of my nose to wring out the pressures. No clue whether it works.
These days have been meager on the writing front. The flood of time, post-show, cooled all the auxiliary reactors. Tomorrow marks the 1/3 point and it's still a fight. I'm once again pretty sick of the constant patterns in my writing, my drawing, my voice. To have it bouncing back so much is a sort of psychic pollution I did not anticipate.
There are derisive voices in the echoes. They speak to me like a I'm a child, a placating condescension: "That's cute." "Good for you." "That sure is something!" "Way to go!" Encouragement out of pity.
Eh.
The Geiger counter's out of calibration, that's all. A solid shift, a shake of sight, or some chemical jolt and things will come back in focus. Already I feel the bristle of the tiger's eyes on the nape of my neck....
Haiku of the Day:
Magic wearing off
in the mystic pink foldings
under hair and skin
in the mystic pink foldings
under hair and skin
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Lyric" from MW's word of the day. It means suitable for singing or expressing direct personal emotion.)
Today's "365" Project (Make something that flies. So I looked up some paper airplane designs and liked this one best. It does NOT fly well.)
"The Flopper"
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