Magdalena O!

your excitement makes me so happy. your excitement fills me with yen. your excitement inspires me to be.

 <2 + <4 + <3 = <3<3<3<<

L{IF}/[ov]E!

Burial’s Distant Lights is staying up all night smoking cigarettes knowing that you should get to sleep but you can’t because you want it to last all night long. It’s the rain falling on your feet because you ran outside on a whim to feel everything. It’s the crunch, the texture – the way it pulls you down until everything is turned into a dense mass & fills you up. It’s not needing anything but music.

Fuck those who don’t try. Fuck those who take and aren’t mindful of giving back.  Fuck those who are too afraid of me.

Last night, or perhaps two nights ago I made a pivotal life decision. I am restless and nervous, and ready to take on the headaches. Like with everything else, this decision will be more difficult on me than most others but I am willing, I am ready for the experience. I want the struggle. I embrace the intention. I cannot have uncertainty. Not anymore.

I just heard Wicked Games blaring from my work’s kitchen that’s just adjacent to my ikea-clad office. It penetrates my ears, my thoughts and I freeze. Right at this moment. I roll my eyes only because, why? why now?  

ρVD / µ=2, 300  

Turbulence is predicted.

(every week I have a timed free-writing themed exercise in my Creative Writing Class. I will post it unedited here.  Feedback is welcome)

“Just really, I mean really, do you think that anyone thinks you can actually convince people of love? Is those words you swoop from our hearts and make them yours?”

“What do you mean Rebekah?”

“You know what I mean. I’ve written about you, I’ve studied you. I believed in you.”

“Well, the consequences of your life aren’t just up to me Rebekah, you need to take fate somewhere too, you know.”

“I know, but you gave me hope. I took Plato’s words to make you one of the gods, but now I realize you were just a woman who spread herself too thin.”

“You’re projecting all over me. “ She half-snickered at the last bit. “Is it because your book didn’t sell as many copies as Grenada Falls?”

I gave her a shifty look and turned away, except I couldn’t because she hovered over me swiveling in any direction I could physically go in.

“Stop it!”

“But if I am not who you think I am, how are you allowing me this influence on your life? This annoyance?”

“You’re awful. Simply awful. I don’t understand.” I shoved my face in between my palms and started to cry. Well, fake cry in hopes she would go away as I knew loss was a strong suit of hers, in that, she couldn’t cope with it at all.

“Should I jump off a cliff now? Do you take me for heartbroken by your dishonest weeps?”

I grumbled. “I do love love. I just don’t think that you are the one that I should sacrifice the pain of love to.”

“But that you must, that is what happens.” Her gestures seemed so grand I felt them sweeping the entire globe.

“I know you felt that. You felt my power.”

“You are manipulating me.” It’s just so sickly humid outside that’s all, I winced, taking the neck scarf to my forehead.

“You are in love aren’t you?”

“I am not!”

“He doesn’t love you back, that’s why you stopped believing in me!”

“No!” My voice raised.

“It is so! You are smitten with a man, and for the first time he is unwilling to kneel for you.”

I couldn’t believe it.

Before I could realize that this was a subplot in one of my earlier books, Sappho disappeared.