Cami Park

Archive for September, 2009|Monthly archive page

Dance Dance Industrial Revolution

In Art, History, Sex on September 20, 2009 at 12:38 am

celebrate Steampunk and the age of Victorian sci-fi

b3ta.com qotw: other people's diaries

Advertisements

Be me in voice

In Film, Prose, Sex on September 19, 2009 at 9:55 am

Vodpod videos no longer available.

page 439 Finnegans Wake

Adventure pig

In Drama, History, How to on September 18, 2009 at 12:21 am

Why did they do this?

War pig - Wikipedia

Soft white

In Art, Philosophy, Poetry on September 17, 2009 at 1:13 am

Bob Staake

Am I an animal
          able to distinquish
                    beams of light
                             like music this moonlit night
                                      eyes closed

–Mizuhara Shion (trans. Hiroaki Sato)

There’s sometimes a buggy

In Film, Prose, Science on September 16, 2009 at 5:52 pm

Meaning threat

Don’t stop talking to me

In Entertaining, How to, Music on September 15, 2009 at 1:46 am

Emily Wells

Were you ever my favorite?

In Celebrity, Music, Poetry on September 14, 2009 at 12:35 am

Rollerfink did a nice re-mix of my last 16 blog post titles; check it out, he is quite a talented fellow.

rollerfink: the cami re-mix

Some strange gravity

In Poetry, Religion, Universe on September 13, 2009 at 8:53 pm

For Elizabeth
Jim Carroll

It is winter ending on earth. The planets align tomorrow in March and grow more distant from the sun and each other like stray, worn soldiers retreating from an enemy that no longer exists. It is a mild spring in purgatory. In green limbo the children whose foreheads are dry, whose hands do not grow, are transformed themselves to seasons of birds circling an obelisk of shivering mercury. None are allowed prey, none are allowed heaven’s crooked beak. They are radiant swallows with thorns for tongues to feed on the shifting mercury from the mythology of God’s hand, which I cannot break, even now, under this tearful scrutiny. I’ve tried. I’ve tried. I am allowing to pass through me a statement of death. You, the catalyst of such distorted memory. In that limbo the children move in some strange gravity within and outside Grace. Their Lord is angry. They have died with their innocence untested. None knows what it has been or will be ~ each day it changes without changing ~ do you understand what I am saying? It is the life you chose on this Earth, the life of junk and lies. But that wasn’t You, I knew You ~ you had perfect lips, eyes like a true child, your breasts unformed, an incandescent mind. This place where I put you now, it is a cursed season, an awkward line, a flawed circle, a snake on fire devouring what tomorrow it will itself become.

Eric Thompson "Jim Carroll"

Eric Thompson "Jim Carroll"

If you aren’t going to die, at least make a palace of it

In Architecture, Confessional, Household on September 12, 2009 at 1:36 pm

Vintage Roadside's Photostream

I imagine myself in socks sliding lengths of marble hallways, and finally gathered up sleeping at the end of the last.

Mongo, Mingo, Mungos

In History, Mathematics, Music on September 11, 2009 at 9:20 am

Physics problem - How many hours to orbit Planet Mongo?

Mingo City - Flash Gordon Wiki

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Mungo Park