<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/platform.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.

Recent

I'm Gish. I guess this is what one can call the remnants of a pre-mid-life crisis. I listen to too much music and read too many books, and it all means nothing. Abrasive, I smoke too much, drink too much coffee and hardly sleep. Alive. Be sure to check out the new links to blogs, photos, music and other sorts of good stuff at the very bottom of the page.

Archives

to be near myself

Stamped: 5:14 PM

Feels like time moves sluggishly, then speeds up when I'm not watching the minutes tick by. My friend Craig is getting married in three weeks and expecting a baby in a few months. My nephew now comes up to my waist in height, and says my name, and Buckley's...sort of. He calls me 'Gii-giish' and Buckley is 'Gucky' with a hard G.

I used to love sleep. Lately though, I've been having the most bizarre dreams. Disturbing content and the feelings from the dreams linger over me like a mist all day. I just want to sleep and be rested.

tomorrow {29/365}

I don't want to dream of cut off hands, or sex with strangers. Too disembodying. I wonder if that is a word. Maybe I always want something. Sleep, better sleep, more sleep, fabulous sleep. Shit like that.

Due to reasons beyond my control, I cannot update as often as I like. However, I will do so as odten as I can. Talk soon,
Love,
Gish

« Home
an old woman's hands {10/365} »
Caution! Danger Ahead! »
a girl I know »
a bit of everything »
wet summer grass »
my hospital room »
self portrait nude »
entry »
Man in black and white »
answers for readers »

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