cleaning up so well (jones_casey) wrote,
cleaning up so well

  • Music:

all of these quiet, battered voices

aren't yours. they contain pieces, but only you can say precisely what it is you want to say.
three live tracks from bythos in a row. including one i'd been singing in my head earlier in the day.

the card on the right represents manifestation - the real work involved in completing the project, and the form it will take upon culmination. this is the painting or touch of the undertaking.
eight of music (discontent), when reversed:
freedom from disappointment and dissatisfaction. the release of repressed emotions and distress. being unphased by circumstances. emotional stability in the face of challenge. serenity.
in the creative process: psychodrama and emotional torments can serve as imaginative stimulants. expressing and documenting what you feel can be artful as well as healing.

we've got little revolvers
and such stupid choices
and no one to say when we're dumb

i don't wanna bring you down

just a look at the light
and it burns out my eyes
'cause you know
there's little things about you
that sing in the silence
so much rejection
in every connection that's made


they then found that the sawhorse had been badly dazed by the blow; for while the hard wooden knot of which his head was formed could not be crushed by the hammer, both his ears were broken off and he would be unable to hear a sound until some new ones were made for him.

cannot hear what you're saying
could i tell you so
and i can't leave my troubles
and i'm going home

lie and sleep
under deep
you know

while the cold winter waiting
while you stand there cold
all these things we were searching
now we just don't know

lie and sleep
under deep
i think you know

for the rhymes of an hour
now i'm going home
and i can't believe i'm nothing
'cause i'm coming down

lie and sleep
under deep
do you know?

instead of embarking, he filled his shot-pouch with parched corn, for provisions, and set off to cross the neck on foot and meet the boats in the afternoon at the opposite side of the bend. mr. hunt felt uneasy at his venturing thus alone, and reminded him that he was in an enemy's country; but mr. bradbury made light of the danger, and started off cheerily upon his ramble.

i have no wish to rail at fate
through the glory of life
i will scatter on the floor
disappointed and sore
and in my thoughts i have bled
for the riddles i've been fed
another lie moves over

this good he did, while thus he played his part,
his bands and troops at ease, and safe, retired;
yet coward dread lacks order, fear wants art,
deaf to attend, commanded or desired.

tuesday cxxxiii

  • (no subject)

    today's [virtual] fortune cookie message to me: you've got what it takes, but it will take everything you've got! daily numbers (pick3): 477

  • another new one!

    in your spiritual life... words that embody your presence are "linguistics". true story.

  • wouldn't it just figure?

    that this morning's mla on arthurian legends was not (if i had read closely) a presentation, but rather a roundtable? a roundtable!!! oh, the…

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