May 2011
4 posts
Four Great Motives For Writing, by George Orwell
Putting aside the need to earn a living, I think there are four great motives for writing, at any rate for writing prose. They exist in different degrees in every writer, and in any one writer the proportions will vary from time to time, according to the atmosphere in which he is living. They are:
1. Sheer egoism. Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get...
Patina
And as the days go
so goes the sky and
as skies go so go
minds, hearts, assorted
cellular viscera
muddled down to dreams
________________________
and dreams steaming up from
sewer grates like New York
fogs, saxophones blazing
over burnt sienna
70s butt-rock
parodies—but where were we?
Brine
The air smells of salt
and tastes of dust
a chalk as fine as
powdered wig workshops
and black cats waiting
in the wings
in the dark
for tunacan handouts
and rainwater in beercans
and broken mirror beardtrims
of SatNite pre-revel
drunk on nighttime and sauce—
powdered nose nightcaps
powdered nose nosebleed
powdered nose bloodsneeze—
filling up only to empty
and fillup...
This Is The Real Shit
They told you this was the real shit. The good shit. “The best shit around, ATM.” You think it is shit. But in the crowded smoky bar, mashups mashing in the background, the hipsters speak of it almost mystically.
This is the real shit.
PBR cans crush underfoot. Pretty girls blow smoke into the faces of hapless boys in jean shorts, and the hapless boys drink the smoke like a sip...
