emchy: (Default)
showered and smelling like chamomile and lavender. jazz still on and the big debate of the night is if i will watch the simpsons. listen to jazz and read. or practice the accordion. i feel like i took myself on an art date today. it was slow and meandering. i cooked a little. made some progress on some writing in progress. made some progress on some heart in progress and really just let myself be a little. it's funny usually i have to go out and run around and get so much done to feel like i've had a real weekend. often it lands with me starting my monday worse off than i left my friday. but tonight will be ended with some sleepytime tea, me in my slippers, reading some poetry and sliding into bed early. just calm and nice. Hopefully I'll fall asleep with "Orange is the color of her dress" playing and my dreams will be full of music rolling over my skin and dancing with me. [profile] smallstages i feel like i owe you a huge debt for these records. my crush on the world is holding me around the waist and breathing wishes onto my neck. warm strong slow dances in the kitchen sort of world crush.

there's a mystery and cozy romance hiding in these early nights.
the night wants to curl up around me and hold my dreams safe in its hand.
just this once... i'll let it.

got it!

Aug. 28th, 2007 09:44 pm
emchy: (Default)

removed the cross and will be custom pendanting at some point
but these are the antlers i wanted
happy early bday to me!!!

ok i think that has to be it for special cindy presents from me to myself
but damn i love love love it!!!

thank you to [personal profile] final_girl for the tip off!
emchy: (new red hair)
deer blinds.
musty smell of cabins.
smell of old wood panelling and american beer.
dirt under nails.
guns that are never fired.
the sharp smell of blood when the carcass comes home. open flesh strapped to hoods of american cars. never on a foreign car - something about blood and steel that can only come from detroit. horrifying and sexual all at once. violence carved into skins and honored on the wall. i wonder if culture allowed it - if you would put the hips of every woman you fucked up there. mounted on that wall. cleaned of flesh and bone and love and sweat. bleached and sterile. bones of a conquest. of a moment. of destroying something you weren't ever meant to have.

once i laid naked at 3am on the roof of my parents house. you could climb out through the bathroom window. i went out a lot to listen to my radio when they weren't home. but that night with stars and branches and moon owning the sky - i jerked off for the first time with roof shingles scratching into my back and at sixteen with blood on my shoulders, i was my own trophy. these hips were owned by me. and i would put them on my wall - to honor -

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