lillyan

ch-ch-cherish your q.i.h.

[02/16/2020.09] PROGRESSIVE COMMUNITY RADIO FOR THE PALOUSE [02/15/2020.08] but i cannot help but feel that this lostness is self-imposed, and that soon, i will be gone, the same way that others have been burrowed further and further into sun-spilled valleys, leaving notes for no one on their refrigerators. it was something i could not understand, but as i approach, i gain small inklings. i was thrust into a body of water. there was a phone was ringing on the bottom of the lake. reading behind curtains, making incremental progress with no one to compare against, eating quietly, taking walks, opening letters, discerning, listening to footsteps, clicking hyperlinks, boiling water, folding cloth, rubbing one's hands together, thumbs up reactions, adjusting margins, dragging chairs, scrubbing porcelain, ensuring coupons go through, digestion, transportation, picking a pen among pens, positioning objects in cabinets, [02/13/2020.07] proposals for flower names [02/13/2020.06] b told me about c, a fellow employee at the grocery store he had worked for in ohio, who was very much in to renfaires, and had, for five years, remained a cart boy. b told me that c, who he barely knew, once cornered him in the store and told him that he had shown his penis to some guys on omegele, only to later find out that they were seventeen years old. does that make me a bad person, c had asked b. b told me that once chad had asked him "do you believe in god" while next to him at a urinal. b then found c on facebook (there was nothing else to do, we were all hungry and waiting for more people to show up) and it appeared that c had moved onto working at walmart — the most recent pictures of him show him dressed up as ness from earthbound at some convention next to women he most likely did not know. [02/13/2020.05] bosses out, bitches complaining [02/13/2020.04] i had never thought that i'd be given an opportunity to peer into this nearly-extinct corner. she said to her mother (nearby, i was entering fields for work) that a woman who lived near the convent was dealing with her husband's recent death. the nuns invited her to stay with them temporarily, until she had taken the time to mourn and gather her bearings — she had no where else to go. it was realized that she had a problem with alcohol, and despite slight reprimands, continued to bring bottles into her room. things got worse, she was told to leave. the day of, one of the nuns went to transport the woman's bag to the car and found it to be unnaturally heavy. it was a surprising struggle. she dug through the sack and found a gun within. immediately she took it and went to the police office nearby, depositing the fatal weapon at the sheriff's feet. 'those were my nun with a gun days,' she had said to her. [02/13/2020.03] my dear something-or-other, trudging in the dimly dark/dimly damp [02/13/2020.02] can you help me? my girl's gone missing. i haven't seen her since twenty-sixteen. there's her picture — take a look, come and see. she's on the milk carton, half smiling. (i haven't seen her since thirty-sixteen!) [02/13/2020.01] the book that is said to have first used the term 'paladin' came in the mail; i got the un-cool cover, and honestly the entire thing has a spaceballs-y, 80s silicone gremlin -type of fantasy flavor to it; the witch just laffed and said something like, 'you paladins only save fair maidens and always fail to pack your lunch' — no i did not (though i do from time to time), i thought the taco bell was opening around the corner from work today, but instead i was reduced to mcsmithereens. still, i enjoy the way cars reflect in the higher windows of skyscrapers as they travel northwards toward the library and park, fleeting yellow strokes wobbling their ways in ascending diagonals. i could download asesprite off of my drive somewhere, fix up some ash near a medieval kiln; i could superficially scan that 'chaos at conde nast' article; or at * least * clean off the smidge of cream cheese on the speakers that i pulled out of the trash here to maybe later donate to the arcade. the space around me is blank, in a moment of transit. the space around that is filled, in a moment of transit. i can't wait / til i get home / to read my tome in my room alone!

lillyan

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Last Updated: 2/15 4:15pm

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