Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in discongruity's LiveJournal:

[ << Previous 20 ]

Thursday, March 8th, 2007
1:54 am	Sprung fountain breaks a ward with no necessity but alleviation— langoring lament to company without, the burden novel expansive quick above. Understanding is no sterling sensation, a prim apositive beleaguered waiting band. But golden alluvial accumulation, wistful in the by, sings reverberant the patient deep flow. In passionate route deep descendent route commences with passing company, an open quick conversant crowd, takes skim acquired conscipient quips in solvent drips to collect intransitory troughs, flown low, subobservant croon rich arrival a swift patient peculiar glut in arterial gut. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, July 6th, 2006
10:03 pm	Heavily worn And speaks a quick handwrought disguise fodder— it is found in the flesh so susceptible to dream chain down another great subverse. Shake back and wait, complete forgotten slurry out of nerve, scant of reason summer slings discount response to appease slippery sense. Do you who waits for sterling repose, mandering affect on will call to gather and seduce slivers from just under toe? Sleek measure, just appropriation of quavering into silent gesture, gaunt reckless skeleton leans into fashion, the next slim tickle, part way querent sigh— oh collapse from within, release to the tome of eyes availing naught but muscle tones effect into identity and cross corrective to the aid of strong far ferried foe. And to timed collapse the bring about a quick grievant wallow of resolution to resolve a pithy restraint of fingers, of thumbs of nature craft result in limit that each wisping clot figures into soft repose— each day goes by to weigh in with material day, and dawns impatient glut. (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, May 1st, 2006
7:55 pm	endless trip onward foot over crack and step smooth relief with moment on corner switch and about we are, collect return to breathe and step and step (Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 12th, 2005
3:33 am	Lowing Refrain With parch front settled sour milk soaked in corner bits of collars limp, angry and lifted wise from nine hundred sixty-nine pumped on through minutes we stand deserting resolve vision to ample ways sucked dry on a moment littered flittingly masquerade and pardon. Trotting in pant legs drag sweep dirt up fling and notice first There's no one here. with whisk forth on rhythm per force ears, locks, sniff, and on meter the rocks will gather. If you notice, you'll have fixture swinging out of revolving doorways perplexed at queries rattling along with grazing four-part cud gnash whey spill with curd closely to follow. This is holy- bright and resilient, a stain picked for steps trail and brief uncertainty picks a warbling edge to send shuffled feet random and again you walk through speckled and please, do not jump from spot to spot. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, October 30th, 2004
3:48 am	What I would Like to State about the State No Matter What Happens— I will not forget We have been overtaken. We hear noise spatter, construe and picture a mating world picturing itself on a matted screen, recognize turbulence on fold from catapulting care and due ratified by hororists who so crane necked seek their prize. Be for the guide lining the streets with partition and salvation is here. We gather moss on the soles of our feet. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 17th, 2004
11:29 am	feeling rythmic -- two weeks ago I too can swish a stick, grip and flick, along the street to let a passing fellow know he'd better keep his feet on stride to destiny as some attendant watchman's branch, the rattling drum or rapier's dance; he'll move along with silent feet another path, another street, the sound kept still for future trick as some relentless tyrant's stick. Current Music: Mother Whale Eyeless - Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) - Brian Eno (Comment on this)
Wednesday, June 16th, 2004
4:22 pm	Each wave rolls soft and curl peddling in measure and lift, languid in craft and decides- at point to toss the egg of ocean fail to the blue and there in touch is the draw. Matters come and go to the doors to welcome fastest dreams, settling reasons and catchers for maids who squeeze the rinds of fruit they find each sir, and wringing it know where it bends and slides pulp over pulp timing itself with the weight of the age. Young thing, pace along, sugar and sweet the minutes and the days, the- (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, April 9th, 2004
10:14 pm	Instructions for Babies In sitting on down there is no wait, there is no fashion, only the meeting of ride and relax. Note the keen way your flesh hugs the ground, revel in the monument of your bones, the light array of the things surrounding your moment. It is never too late to begin, and never the right moment to stand, keep walking and know the next place you find you will sit, and stop falling, just stick on for the time being. Stand is another floor higher, you'll know by the gravity of the impending motion you cannot avoid. Rock back and forth, feel tension waiting to dislodge you, saddle the rancor and learn to know when to lean and when to sway. You can do it on your own, try it out for a bit and then master the fear of falling- remember all there is to descend to is a seat. From here you can see further over the ground. The sights are there to be seen and you may take advantage of them. There is no harm in looking. From the height you have so many options, but let us begin with the walk. Stumble forward with a first step, put your foot in front of you to betray your body's attempt to fall. Shift yourself forward, keep the center in mind, do not lean or sway, when walking these are advanced maneuvers. It is easiest to walk when one just keeps going. Stopping causes imbalance, knocks you for a loop, makes your eyes and ears shift their frames and everything will look different. Speed makes everything relative. From here it is up to you, learn the skip and the jump, the sashay and dance. Wave your arms in the air to see your balance for itself, cradle the world in your arms, the motion has set you free. Running is advanced walking. Beware the oncoming objects, put your arms in front of you if you have the fear, your arms and hands are there to stop the pain, they will hold you back from the ground. Sitting is harder in motion, so no reliance is best. Take motion and run, now remember the first lesson, and don't forget to sit sometimes, and examine all you now have with the stretch of a leg and the will to go. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
7:34 pm	on the waves Sliding sines number the times they follow themselves calling the number until the machine picks up. Frantic manning of the shores, reading the same books over the light of a candle, flickering and sanction regulate middle slopes to the favor and wish of an upswing. If you don't present the problems over time expect a cascading, threatening rhythmic crash, will mettle and pluck the the shells out of sand, loosing the damnation of yesterday's signals, exile fishing itself from the get go, and then you'll know indeed. "Hello?" (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, April 2nd, 2004
3:06 pm	tube head We have a two for one -laugh track- sale ending sunday! Asleep on the couch, Jim doesn't notice his wife opening the door until it's too late and he's been hit with the sunday paper. "You haven't cut the lawn, have you?" If he had it might have tried to swallow him whole honey, didn't you notice the teeth they've grown, the seepage from the cables running rampant under the yard leaked ads the blades of grass were quite ready to spend their savings getting sharper while Jim lets it all soak in- the spreading drool marks each second they sell to him under his snoring breath. Free financing for silence, we promise. "Go dig up the weeds before it gets dark." See what you find under the dirt there, run your fingers through the smallest distinction you can make, salvage the flowers if you can. make the sun run backwards, and tell your neighbors dying isn't a problem unless it happens while you're sleeping. Jim gets up before he can feel the paper over his head again, reaches to turn off the television but he can't turn the dial, and there's Johnny giving the opening monologue to grass. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, February 19th, 2004
8:08 am	drip drip drip drip drip drip drpi So there is the dirt, it shows itself when it has been soaking progressive droplets on march right on across the pattern and sinking in everywhere. You have a leak, fine hairline crack letting water into your home, saving itself within the fibers in the carpet and slinking along the ready path to the next small hole it seeks, to hide. The flow holds itself upright and shakes the notion that creeps slowly, we are all just dropping hints of single thoughts failing to predict our moment of impact. Sop us up with a towel. Carry each thought through to the washer, put them in to spin. Model forward thinking: I may be a copy, or I may be too thin. Dry it out before the return. Bring the yearning cloth bit, throw it back upon the floor, and know soon the rest will come crashing through the ceiling and nothing you have at hand will stop us. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
3:45 am	we work our hands like cinder blocks leaning into the next slight gesture with a steady moment only holding up in the constant presence of friction. i slide fingers over pages of rough notes, leaf in and out of years of pent up rages, and now there is only a worn surface that verily might just slip any second now— tips i should have taken from the Beatings will lose grip and i can let torrid love affairs tumble from my chest and leave trails the slimy martyrs won't come near for fear of such earth solvent salt. don't worry. i may come and go, while at Chinaski's wake, they keep going and going, with sinful unsalient weeping. Current Music: Rollin' Stone - Rollin' Stone, Disc 2 - Muddy Waters (Comment on this)
Wednesday, December 10th, 2003
6:38 pm	Peach fountain sorta With hand over brow, sunshine as well as the back of our hands, distance stays put, one mile lingers a mile away, no matter the steps or the roll, but one of these days you will arrive. mother does your hair before the big dance, and Johnny will pick you up soon. Johnny Cash playing in his car, wearing just the right flower, bright dreams linger in the neon sign flickering in a television shop as they drive by and make their way. steps on toes dutifully, arm around not quite the right time hasn't shown itself, but she will. stop dancing for punch, take his hand and stroll through fields of busy bees wearing only the finest in home made garb. grows old slowly, the dance, one more time and then depart, know when dips make you bobble, head home, but detour first. we will have shakes, fizzy pop, cherry malteds, on top of sundaes, of soda, a shirley temple, for the lady. one day we grow old and know candid desire was not forbidden, just a little before new. on to the long drive home, the tension nimble fingers can't avoid. on putting simple asides to learn the name in between. on night fall, it becomes a moment, linger inside his eyes. on one of these, days never come. on top of greeting the day whitewall tires and lollipop dandilions field questions on the nature of human existence they know nothing and we wander on floating at the hop. Current Music: Scream Like A Baby - Scary Monsters - David Bowie (Comment on this)
Friday, October 17th, 2003
1:15 pm	armature plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop plop (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 14th, 2003
6:44 am	Dig 'em up. That's what I said, calling to the wreckage so the plane and everyone dead and alive could hear. Wreak havoc with the evidence, scatter the dried blood floating on pools of engine oil wide into the grassy seas waiting for just one life preserver to try and float. Let'em ride, gamble with the single chance they had nothing else to do, so give them seat cushions, oxygen masks and no smoking, just in case we crash over water and the last thing a drown victim might want is fire. (Comment on this)
Friday, October 3rd, 2003
4:05 pm	After dreaming Wandering in from steep midnight the calls come pouring in over breakfast, tall glasses are filled and, well, we take another look at ourselves. It's brand new they say, but every time is just like the one before and there goes the neighborhood. Lights're ceremoniously shut off before slinking under sheets and sinking into sleep. Then we had another shot of sand, our eyes gulp down the darkness, reforming everything until spinning rooms and how many fingers are up? Faces get misplaced in waves of vicious rapid movement just under heavy eyelids. Goggles look onward, and say they'd do that, jump on speeding wagons, ride 7 wheels just to wake and do it all over again. So pour another glass, we'll look through, slosh ourselves around in memorium, eyeing what we tried for so long and mix in some dry liquor. Another glass. One for me, one for you. (Comment on this)
Monday, April 21st, 2003
6:07 pm	Grade school arithmetic Skataling through the grassland, my five legged antelope hops one and a quarter times as fast— forgetting that Mrs. Murphy says, "Antelope don't have five legs Jimmy, you should erase one so he doesn't fall down." On the second day of first grade I was already singled out a fifth leg, scrambling to keep rhythm in the forefront, putting eagles with three wings next to an American flag, seventeen five eyed cats in alleys filled with double nosed rats on their last leg. Badgers, the kid next to me has drawn rabbits and rabbit holes, each rabbit with four paws and two ears, running swiftly from badgers with black and white stripes running down their backs. He doesn't know that my twenty-eight ten eyed squirrels have long walrus teeth and eighty-two hind legs to make his badgers fear for their lives. His rabbits have no chance. I tell my mom I see fishes slithering into asps with rattles, on humongous hind legs waiting to discover the rhinocerous they belong to. Dogs on three leashes try three times as hard to run after the seven winged pigeons, smell three times as well as the orangutan with only one armpit, and eat half as neatly as five gizzard buzzards. It isn't fair that father gets a four-legged puppy for my birthday. I go to my room and cry ninety-twelve tears, ripping fingers from my gloves and praying to thirteen gods that someone would hear with their eighteen ears. He never listens. I know I asked for the five-legged variety every time he asked me twice, and mother just won't back me up more than once. So in class I draw floppy eared cockroaches feeding on leftover nine eyed olive pizza, covered with two-tailed anchovies and five udder mozzarella. Mrs. Murphy says there's no difference between one udder cheese and five, but I tell her it's important anyhow— because if five udders can make a cheese then my six fingers can draw an antelope, skataling through the grassland one and one quarter times as fast. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, April 17th, 2003
4:22 pm	n. Jill- Jack Imagination tells us of the things we expect to exist, drowning in our words. Deep down in a well the world, with no more cause for growth, forgets. It looks down, does not notice there is more than itself at the bottom- Deeper, survival depends on watchers and finders, on putting on dresses of sudden attack, twenty-four black birds launch from earth upon speaking feather and finding the words to put ourselves in a tub with three men, lost in the middle of something. Each step is taken to confirm in the act of saving that it is only in naming whether it really happened that something first, or first the name that makes reality in lush and damp. Spilling first what I had gathered, it was left only to eyes to have seen and led wonder into the might of the situation. Might it never have happened if Jill didn't come along with a song on her parched lips, changing a tune that cascaded into a tune of descent. Mother, you wrote it down, and thus a crash follows. So walking forth, sand on the road, salt in her eyes, we have no more words for because in the absence of hunger, we do not define food, I did not say, "I am the one who walked up the hill, and you only followed," once my head fell open and all that I had was soaked into the ground. (Comment on this)
6:31 am	Inversion Signs tell me more is to come. I speak, and exude tonal pitches on average to the average con versation on meters of a coercive language bringing radiance and absorbance in full splintering stop. You will not gather evidence against the notion that I am fully with It is said, "He who travels from one path to another- in no way marking his trail, makes an impressively hard act to follow." But I say, "If you think you're buying a tracking device make sure it's a one way receiver." And neither is correct. Such is the nature of my story- you listen, while I I... I, I, while you were away I looked at the neighbors. "You what!?" I can see!!! "This is wonderful!" Isn't it? And so, I sat by and looked at the neighbors, you gave me time, and I sat by and looked at the neighbors. I did learn a lot. Brother Matthias is a loving brother. Every night he tucks my teddy bear in with me. Mom always tucks me in so tight I can't fit my teddy into my bed with me, but my brother always comes along and stuffs teddy in with me. It gets tighter, but at least I have teddy! (Comment on this)
Tuesday, April 15th, 2003
1:15 pm	I am a grain of sand clinging to my master's backside after he has waded in the ocean. Something tells me, if there is wisdom in reconnaissance only, this is finality, This is a path I have not yet taken, and that is in itself and therefore whole. (Comment on this)