janepaulette

janepaulette

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a compass should always be old and worn and slightly wrong in a wooden box kept in corduroy pockets with a dusty smell of matches and the necessary presence of its owner who can discern and interpret its eccentricities a compass should be a thing that doesn't work for anyone but you

knows

how can we know anything i remember learning the words to do with knowing and the different ways of learning by experience by fact dividing philosophical debate when really i guess its a great melange of the sensual

due

we were due the great fate always due and always late lying like dew intermittently between sun and rain always due but never arriving a constant arrival or never arrival duly due undue

i am determined to be determined about my determined future i get tired of trying to be determined. determination (termination being the optimum composite) is more appealing to me i wish it was a purchasable commodity

methods of madness methods of stirring a mortal and pestle is a method it makes me think of serious old white men who studied law and medicine with guts and dust spilling over their books. old methods

what is contained in a marble? it's a little excretion of a lie - something that looks beautiful and intangible but is a shitty smudge of colour in sham-glass. I don't know why so many generations of children have cried over them, or old people despaired for losing theirs...

My grandmother used to spend hours as a child practising drawing horses. She adored them. She showed me an old bound book that taught her how: she would build up from bone to sinew and then finally add their soft coats. I think she liked horses more than people, which is understandable considering her upbringing. What's heartbreaking is that she's still never ridden.

study

my grandfather's study was under the old wooden staircase, tucked beneath the dusty balustrades. It was always kept locked and filled with a myriad precious things, things that made no sense and were endlessly mysterious to a 5 year old.

something I haven't heard in a while from myself. sounds too distant and false, shuts up when you imagine the horrific mouth contortions. animals don't need to laugh. did they escape it via evolution or did we create it ourselves?

flare

oh the flare of the night the city below a thousand tiny flame particles moving around, orbiting the black mass we are perched so precariously on the flare of the scape is too far from us, it divides us still.

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writing since 2011 · 15 entries · 14 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means janepaulette showed up.

2longest streak

14days written

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on this day 15 years ago

janepaulette wrote about icicle
“tall glass of water, like a woman. monster from star wars, i am dangling upside down while i try to escape deep in a cave in italy we take boats through the underground crevices as you hang between…”

the words janepaulette reaches for

whiskeyglassdeterminedduegreatmethodsdrinkrememberescapeorchestraflarewoodendustyhorsesarrivallearning