<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d33206271\x26blogName\x3dThe+Fine+Art+of+Falling+Apart\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dTAN\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://fineartoffallingapart.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://fineartoffallingapart.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d6081200608643811586', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

broken houses


broken house
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.


Dear Chicago,
It's difficult for me to get 'over' the stupid little things like breathing and opening your eyes. I had a long sleep this evening, but it didn't put me in a better frame of mind.

In my dreams, I was wearing a cobalt blue dress that dragged behind me when I tried to climb fences to get away. Like a circus, nearly everyone from my current and past life coexisted seamlessly in the place where I grew up.

I didn't see you, though. Not even in the made-for-tv section of my dream where I played real life video games for my life. I thought for sure you'd be in the audience, booing.

Things are getting lost in our secret translations, and I'm both too powerless and apathetic to stop it. Like a bad movie, it keeps going. You want it to be over but the ride keeps going, and you're strapped in, no matter what.

I wish I knew where it was going. I wish I had someone to consult with on a daily basis of my merit, but you're where you are and I'm where I am.

I'll spray paint this on one of your sidewalks, hoping you'll see it and know what it means.
Love,
Gish

You can leave your response or bookmark this post to del.icio.us by using the links below.
Comment | Bookmark | Go to end