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Gingerly Foolish

Post tenebras, lux. Monday, April 11, 2011. I am wracked with the sorrow of memory. It heaves forth, it whirls sickly-sweet in my stomach. But it is good. The memories want to leave. Like ghosts, they must want to depart; we cannot compel them. I am afraid, though: petrified. If they spill out of me and dissolve upon contact with the air, then will I be empty? Posted by Miss Lazarus. Wednesday, October 6, 2010. It is crisp and sunny today, and my heart is all a-flutter with the newness of autumn. Posted ...

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Gingerly Foolish | gingerlyfoolish.blogspot.com Reviews
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Post tenebras, lux. Monday, April 11, 2011. I am wracked with the sorrow of memory. It heaves forth, it whirls sickly-sweet in my stomach. But it is good. The memories want to leave. Like ghosts, they must want to depart; we cannot compel them. I am afraid, though: petrified. If they spill out of me and dissolve upon contact with the air, then will I be empty? Posted by Miss Lazarus. Wednesday, October 6, 2010. It is crisp and sunny today, and my heart is all a-flutter with the newness of autumn. Posted ...
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Gingerly Foolish | gingerlyfoolish.blogspot.com Reviews

https://gingerlyfoolish.blogspot.com

Post tenebras, lux. Monday, April 11, 2011. I am wracked with the sorrow of memory. It heaves forth, it whirls sickly-sweet in my stomach. But it is good. The memories want to leave. Like ghosts, they must want to depart; we cannot compel them. I am afraid, though: petrified. If they spill out of me and dissolve upon contact with the air, then will I be empty? Posted by Miss Lazarus. Wednesday, October 6, 2010. It is crisp and sunny today, and my heart is all a-flutter with the newness of autumn. Posted ...

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Gingerly Foolish: Asphyxia.

http://www.gingerlyfoolish.blogspot.com/2010/05/asphyxia.html

Post tenebras, lux. Thursday, May 20, 2010. I woke up this morning choking again, struggling to cough and clear my airways, the ones all clogged by nightmares and dry air. I find it hard to speak. The words in my mouth are all wrong; they taste bitter. I'm afraid that I'll die in my sleep with secrets on my tongue, heart all parched and arid. Afraid of the dark, I cuddle my blankets under my chin and protect my little larynx as I fall back into the agony of sleeplessness. Posted by Miss Lazarus.

2

Gingerly Foolish: The Waking Dead.

http://www.gingerlyfoolish.blogspot.com/2010/06/waking-dead.html

Post tenebras, lux. Monday, June 14, 2010. I've finally had three nights of decent sleep: only mildly disturbing dreams, only a few instances of waking up with a bout of chest-crushing panic. I couldn't sleep in my bed anymore. I slept on the couch, huddled under a fleece blanket clutching a worn old teddy bear. The only way to know whether or not I had slept was to decide if what I remembered was possible; had I just gone camping in Arizona? No, then, I had indeed managed to secure an hour's sleep.

3

Gingerly Foolish: Nightmares.

http://www.gingerlyfoolish.blogspot.com/2010/09/nightmares.html

Post tenebras, lux. Wednesday, September 15, 2010. I sleep on my couch. I can't bear to sleep in my bed anymore; haven't for months. Waking up in a panic is easier here, I remember where I am more quickly, can curl up into the firmness of the couch, press myself into it and feel myself shaking, notice the spasms of fear, try and calm them. I miss refreshing sleep. Posted by Miss Lazarus. George Orwell, “Why I Write". Staying and meeting family in Holland. Rose trees, said Alice. Cut Up Poems 4.

4

Gingerly Foolish: Static.

http://www.gingerlyfoolish.blogspot.com/2010/04/static.html

Post tenebras, lux. Saturday, April 17, 2010. My room is too quiet at night, too full of the ambient emotional static of insomnia. I start to hear my heart buzz. My skin rattles with hypnagogic jerks. Feet are hiccuping like railway spines. I sleep with one arm crossed across my body, the hand cradling my ribs. The other hand is pressed against my belly, as though I am trying to staunch a wound. Time to shut the lights out and try again for sleep. Posted by Miss Lazarus. George Orwell, “Why I Write".

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Gingerly Foolish: Heavy.

http://www.gingerlyfoolish.blogspot.com/2010/05/heavy.html

Post tenebras, lux. Saturday, May 1, 2010. I am heavy with sleep. My body is numbing out from the edges inward, cells turning over to rest. I wonder, sometimes, if my cells feel the same sadness as I, if they twitch and itch with the anxiety of sleepless nights, if they mourn as I do. I sink into the weight of my mattress, bones filled with concrete-marrow. Posted by Miss Lazarus. George Orwell, “Why I Write". Staying and meeting family in Holland. Rose trees, said Alice. Cut Up Poems 4.

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Rose trees, said Alice: ok, I'll admit it. Sometimes, I use a thesaurus.

http://rosetree.blogspot.com/2008/08/ok-ill-admit-it-sometimes-i-use.html

Rose trees, said Alice. A spine of glass won't hold her fractured form-Terami hirsch. Friday, August 01, 2008. Ok, I'll admit it. Sometimes, I use a thesaurus. I wrote a song a couple of days ago. Or a simple poem, if not quite a song. But writing to chord changes and glimpses of melodies causes me to write significantly differently than writing with just the sound of words. Simpler, and the sounds and rhythm just flow a little bit more. Pretty soon she'll be a dove. And the records will play again.

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Rose trees, said Alice: A Wednesday Morning Mix tape ( with words)

http://rosetree.blogspot.com/2008/08/wednesday-morning-mix-tape-with-words.html

Rose trees, said Alice. A spine of glass won't hold her fractured form-Terami hirsch. Wednesday, August 06, 2008. A Wednesday Morning Mix tape ( with words). First song of the day, Charlotte Martin’s “Days of the Week”. Non-invasive, non-abrupt switch from silence to sound, but not innocuous. Simplicity, not too much instrumentation, no really high pitched sounds first thing in the morning. Vienna Teng is usually a perfect for choice for first thing in the morning, last thing at night. Which I adore beca...

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Rose trees, said Alice: Today

http://rosetree.blogspot.com/2009/10/today.html

Rose trees, said Alice. A spine of glass won't hold her fractured form-Terami hirsch. Wednesday, October 07, 2009. See, I don't know. ANd I know nobody really does, but I'm bored of watching everyone pretend like their navigating through this world with clear eyes and a clean compass glass, especially when their talking about how they're not pretending but they really still are, they just can't see it. I just can't see it. Everyone confuses me. I can't tell who's lying and who's real. My goal is to be a ...

rosetree.blogspot.com rosetree.blogspot.com

Rose trees, said Alice: Cut Up Poems 4

http://rosetree.blogspot.com/2010/04/cut-up-poems-4.html

Rose trees, said Alice. A spine of glass won't hold her fractured form-Terami hirsch. Monday, April 12, 2010. Cut Up Poems 4. Text From "My Mother: A Demonology" by Kathy Acker, "THe Powerbook" by Jeanette WInterson, "Ecstasia" by Francesca Lia Block, a dream dictionary,. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. Cut Up Poems 4. Cut up Poems 2. Ive been making cut-up poetry out of books Ive r. Don't shout, you'll bring the mill down. Frances Around the World. Things I like to read.

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Rose trees, said Alice: ow. Yeah, that's pretty much it.

http://rosetree.blogspot.com/2008/07/ow-yeah-thats-pretty-much-it.html

Rose trees, said Alice. A spine of glass won't hold her fractured form-Terami hirsch. Sunday, July 20, 2008. Ow Yeah, that's pretty much it. Too much heartburn to write. As a 26th birthday gift, I would love to not have an ulcer. That would be lovely. The whole stomach is destroying itself from the inside thing is not so much fun. It's distracting. I can think of prettier things to suffer from. Ennui. Nobody says "Oh, I just suffer from the. Youch Cuddles to your poor tummy. July 21, 2008 at 10:11 PM.

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Rose trees, said Alice: Fluctuations and depth, perception

http://rosetree.blogspot.com/2008/08/fluctuations-and-depth-perception.html

Rose trees, said Alice. A spine of glass won't hold her fractured form-Terami hirsch. Tuesday, August 05, 2008. Fluctuations and depth, perception. I’m home, living from laundry baskets, only half unpacked. I feel years older than when I left. I’m kind of blog cheating with this entry, because it’s actually part of an e-mail conversation I had earlier today with Adriana. My ever attempts at untangling concept and actualities of friendships and other relationships…. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

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Rose trees, said Alice

http://rosetree.blogspot.com/2010/04/ive-been-making-cut-up-poetry-out-of.html

Rose trees, said Alice. A spine of glass won't hold her fractured form-Terami hirsch. Friday, April 09, 2010. I've been making cut-up poetry out of books I've read and am getting rid of/letting go of. I'm a little obsessed, I'll admit, taking the gorgeousness of other people words and rearranging them. It's creation out of the best sparks of inspiration-a good way to work around writers block. The words belong to them, the rearrangement of them are my work. April 10, 2010 at 4:04 PM. Cut Up Poems 4.

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Rose trees, said Alice: Cut-Up Poems 3

http://rosetree.blogspot.com/2010/04/cut-up-poems-3.html

Rose trees, said Alice. A spine of glass won't hold her fractured form-Terami hirsch. Sunday, April 11, 2010. Text from "Ironweed" by William Kennedy. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Girl in a rainy city. I like to sit on the porch and look out at the moon. Watch the leaves drip in my backyard. Witness vulnerabilty. Wander the city.Drink tea in coffee shops with a book. Listen too way to much sad music. I like quiet and joyful things.Kindness and gentleness. View my complete profile. Cut Up Poems 4.

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Rose trees, said Alice: Two words.

http://rosetree.blogspot.com/2008/07/two-words.html

Rose trees, said Alice. A spine of glass won't hold her fractured form-Terami hirsch. Wednesday, July 23, 2008. Zoe Keating's "Sun Will Set" is, at this moment, the aural equivalent of these two words. Tactile and fragile.). When put together, there is such a gentle strength to these words. My hands are alight with fragility. I am burdened and blessed with a lack of touch. It makes me sad. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. Not a word to find. Thoughts at a party.

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Post tenebras, lux. Monday, April 11, 2011. I am wracked with the sorrow of memory. It heaves forth, it whirls sickly-sweet in my stomach. But it is good. The memories want to leave. Like ghosts, they must want to depart; we cannot compel them. I am afraid, though: petrified. If they spill out of me and dissolve upon contact with the air, then will I be empty? Posted by Miss Lazarus. Wednesday, October 6, 2010. It is crisp and sunny today, and my heart is all a-flutter with the newness of autumn. Posted ...

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