Different Keys for Different Locks

His voice, pinched off at the end of sentences / Revolutions Two through Eight / And walk through the clutter, the dead automation / Circuits bled electricity until nothing was left, no power just silent snowflakes, the buzz and hiss of high tension lines conspicuously absent / Bare walls and hardwood floors and cold rooms. Oppressive empty space / You need to see the timing, like Tetris blocks locked in place / Serpentine vibrations that pass through flesh walls, while in the corner stacked journals tell dusty tales of imagined possibility, dry ink flaked off yellowed pages / Frightened by the speed of his tonal recognition / Wet reflections / wild lights / cloud passed electricity / Lightning is cloud feedback / This storm is a song, thunder chorus and lightning verses, rain fell like liquid percussion on glass ears / All of the songs in the world play at the same time and I try to decipher them, individual melodies like cells in ether / Planets and cells suspended in ether, the sound of a compressed spring / Burnt tongue coffee, like a swollen piece of sandpaper between my jaws / Yellow-tipped power cords and quarter-inch input jacks; again, in the empty cold room. Cracks in the floor, wide / Cracks the floor wide, like veins in the marble or rivers bisecting themselves on graph paper / Everything ends with a g / Golden maple floor, cracks wide in the marble, veins or snakes or / rivers / Little skeleton fingers make a fist around a pen / The floor is basement cool in front porch heat / Perfect cylinders / gears in motion.

Hiatus

So, the blog has been on something of an unofficial hiatus lately, it the complete lack of posts hasn't been obvious enough. It can be really difficult for me to stay motivated, and the first month of summer is usually spent not writing or reading. It's shameful, really, how little I've done sine the end of the semester. However, tomorrow I start phase one of the Program, which is a highly scientific and exacting, um, program, designed to keep me from being totally worthless. Phase one involves writing every day for ten minutes, without stopping, for a week. After that, phase two: two pages in the morning and three pages at night, every day for a week. Then, phase three, which I haven't created yet. Probably be pretty serious though. Punishing, perhaps. The idea is that somewhere in this process a gem will be unearthed, and I can finally stop watching Arrested Development and start writing the next Great American Novel. Then I can retire and return to repeated watching of Arrested Development. That is the goal, the mission, the Program. Or something like that.