I tried to friend you a long time ago but you denied me. I didn't have a picture up but I think you denied me because you're an elitist bitch. Just kidding. It's good to hear from you. I got tons of cheez-its for you whenever your ready.
Hey lady...how're things? gotta say nothing quite compares to the chicago debauchery days.. if you're ever in SF you should come by my little sunshine mountain abode for some nicotine and alcohol. yes.
He moved toward the heart of the seed, but found his path blocked by a book. Leafing through the book, he noticed many pages were missing. Yet, even with missing pages, the book was too large to move, to high to vault, and too wide to go around. So he sat down and began to read the book with the missing pages. Reading first the odd-numbered pages, and then the even, he read out loud, while all one hundred rooms of the house of the seed echoed with the sound of the hand reading.
Night. Mother wren, soldier heron, and pastor crow were all three waiting for citizen seed to wake, to rise from his dark bed walking, to speak. The seed lay in a dead swoon. Somewhere, snow fell past a clock, and the seed slept. Somewhere, a man grew a beard and died in his cell, and the seed slept. A woman waited for her lover a lifetime, then swept her kitchen of leaves blown in from seasons of trees the man left unpruned, the shears hung to rust in a lower branch, and the seed slept. A city closed its gates. The seed slept. What to do, fretted mother wren. Stand fast, counseled the heron. The pastor, wise crow, spoke: Only a hand can help us, and only a thief. For only a thief will know the way into a fortified seed. But where, asked the soldier, will we find such a hand?
The wren looked here and there, in a hayloft, inside an old coat sleeve. The pastor ventured throughout the countryside. The heron guarded the sleeper. One night the crow found the hand lying under a thigh. The hand smelled of oranges and fish, and lay dreaming of oranges bobbing in the ocean, among the wreckage of crates, the fruit nudged now and then from below, nibbled by unseen mouths. The crow scratched a message on the windowsill, tapped the pane, then fled. The hand, a blind thief, read the pecked sill with its fingers, then lit out after the bird.
After many years, the bird and the hand arrived where the tattered wren, in a cap of snow. stood by the heron, who wore a shawl of snow across his powerful shoulders. There, said the crow to the thief, and the hand approached the tiny sleeper.
Children, I know you may wonder how a hand may enter a place so narrow as a seed. The answer is the hand must die. So the hand lay down next to the seed, opened, and the three ravenous birds ripped up its flesh, and gobbled up the blood, and put the bones in a sack.
Once inside the seed, the thief, who had been blind, could see. He moved toward the heart of the seed, but fo
ligsie! i love the bookshelves you installed. you rule. you ARE going to be good to those shorts right? ive had those since highschool. they need love. post pics and thigns so we can see where you are!! hope the move is less stress and way fun and exciting. xxxxxx
ligaya's Comments
Apr 24 2009 9:27 PM
thought you might dig em. swing by the page and check out the rest, get yourself a custom piece if you want, i"ll rock it out. cheers
donny
Oct 20 2008 9:51 PM
Mar 22 2008 2:33 AM
Mar 20 2008 4:53 PM
Jan 28 2008 7:49 AM
Dec 7 2007 1:14 PM
Dec 7 2007 7:56 AM
Nov 19 2007 2:54 AM
if you're ever in SF you should come by my little sunshine mountain abode for some nicotine and alcohol. yes.
Nov 16 2007 11:21 PM
Nov 9 2007 5:17 PM
He moved toward the heart of the seed, but found his path blocked by a book. Leafing through the book, he noticed many pages were missing. Yet, even with missing pages, the book was too large to move, to high to vault, and too wide to go around. So he sat down and began to read the book with the missing pages. Reading first the odd-numbered pages, and then the even, he read out loud, while all one hundred rooms of the house of the seed echoed with the sound of the hand reading.
Li-Young Lee
written in Chicago
Nov 9 2007 5:14 PM
Night. Mother wren, soldier heron, and pastor crow were all three waiting for citizen seed to wake, to rise from his dark bed walking, to speak. The seed lay in a dead swoon. Somewhere, snow fell past a clock, and the seed slept. Somewhere, a man grew a beard and died in his cell, and the seed slept. A woman waited for her lover a lifetime, then swept her kitchen of leaves blown in from seasons of trees the man left unpruned, the shears hung to rust in a lower branch, and the seed slept. A city closed its gates. The seed slept. What to do, fretted mother wren. Stand fast, counseled the heron. The pastor, wise crow, spoke: Only a hand can help us, and only a thief. For only a thief will know the way into a fortified seed. But where, asked the soldier, will we find such a hand?
The wren looked here and there, in a hayloft, inside an old coat sleeve. The pastor ventured throughout the countryside. The heron guarded the sleeper. One night the crow found the hand lying under a thigh. The hand smelled of oranges and fish, and lay dreaming of oranges bobbing in the ocean, among the wreckage of crates, the fruit nudged now and then from below, nibbled by unseen mouths. The crow scratched a message on the windowsill, tapped the pane, then fled. The hand, a blind thief, read the pecked sill with its fingers, then lit out after the bird.
After many years, the bird and the hand arrived where the tattered wren, in a cap of snow. stood by the heron, who wore a shawl of snow across his powerful shoulders. There, said the crow to the thief, and the hand approached the tiny sleeper.
Children, I know you may wonder how a hand may enter a place so narrow as a seed. The answer is the hand must die. So the hand lay down next to the seed, opened, and the three ravenous birds ripped up its flesh, and gobbled up the blood, and put the bones in a sack.
Once inside the seed, the thief, who had been blind, could see. He moved toward the heart of the seed, but fo
Jul 16 2007 2:58 PM
i love the bookshelves you installed. you rule. you ARE going to be good to those shorts right? ive had those since highschool. they need love.
post pics and thigns so we can see where you are!!
hope the move is less stress and way fun and exciting.
xxxxxx
Jul 5 2007 8:03 PM
Jul 3 2007 1:10 AM
Jun 25 2007 12:13 AM
jerk.
Apr 11 2007 4:04 AM
Mar 2 2007 12:15 AM
i would like to come visit... i've never been to Chicago!
Feb 3 2007 7:23 PM
I love ya, hun!
Happy Belated Groundhog Day
Feb 1 2007 10:41 PM
miss ya. g
Jan 30 2007 1:53 AM
So productive! Soooo productive!
Jan 29 2007 5:42 AM
i will send the dragons...
Jan 10 2007 6:08 AM
ROD STEWART BITCHES!!
Jan 9 2007 5:40 AM
Jan 6 2007 3:33 PM
ohmigod. gimme. I so want one.
these are hand made by some dude in SE PDX. And they are cream. fucking cream.
www.vanillabicycles.com
Dec 20 2006 3:51 PM