reveriealamode

[reveriealamode]

“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it

[reveriealamode]

A Short and Effective Guide on How to Mourn Your Childhood

It is not for the faint of heart. Nor do you become a Spartan when you do it at last.

To mourn a childhood is no easy task. You should be aware of the years gone by and the ones to come. You always have been, in a way. This time the only difference is that you are inevitably and undoubtedly an adult, or you are playing pretend as one.

The first step to mourning the baby fat on your cheeks and the rush of your dreams is to yearn unmeasurably. This yearning process has no one-size-fits-all solution. You have to customize your grief as it fills your palms with a great victory and a devilish smile. Have fun figuring that out!!

Slowly but surely, the awareness of time becomes cathartic. Your glass finally overflows and floods with the help of one more drop of ‘’I should have learned, done, read, known, heard, felt, written, drawn this by now.’’ See how you gradually lose the meaning of childhood? Nothing should be a ‘’first-time’’ now. You are purified from all the ways you thought you could be a comrade to Achilles. You came to understand only Icarus’ kinship. But, you still have two feeble heels to be pierced through though.

Good news! The steelyard you claw onto with which you compare and contrast yourself does some good. You will never let a day pass by without weighing yourself in terms of your stones and guilts mounted at the back of your nape. Well, now you have a hunchback that would make Notre Dame green-eyed or, maybe proud. That’s open to discussion.

Then, along the way, there comes a day. A day where you burn the bridges that lead to your juvenile years and you stop taking the desire path to your childhood room, even if you still wake up inside it every single day. Because you don’t believe in fairies and creatures of forests anymore. Do you? Do you even have the time to?

You then, start being frenemies with numbers. You can’t live without them. They certainly don’t feed you the essence of life, either. Numbers to tell your age and work hours. Numbers to count your friends. Your hobbies. By the way, do you have any of those left lying around? Numbers to calculate the days until your retirement when you have done nothing, and I repeat, nothing at all yet. And, there are numbers to count your calories in and out. That’s always fun! Amirite?

So, mourn you do, the shortness of your height and the wisdom of your teeth, and the tiny of your hands. You look in the mirror and feel unjust. Unsightly and weary. You might need a little bit of ironing, too. But, tomorrow bleeds through your dark-colored blinds and you will try despite. Despite! Despite! Despite!

#rip sylvia you would've loved this #prose #writing #creative writing #prose poem #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writers and poets #time #childhood #longing #yearning #mourning #i think i need therapy #well yes #wry humor #poets on tumblr

[reveriealamode]

How (Not) to Make Scrambled Eggs

* This is not about making eggs. *

How do you like your eggs in the morning? Hmm. Sounds delicious. Me? I don’t really have a preference. I don’t get the egg ick either. So, I think I will scramble some eggs this morning.

All right. Where’s the pan? Oh, right. There it is.

Get 2 eggs.

Crack the eggs into a bowl. Add a pinch of salt. Whisk the eggs. Set them aside for now.

You can add a dash of milk. I sometimes do. I won’t today. One day one of my best friends told me I could add half a tablespoon of yogurt into the eggs and then whisk it. I tried it. I remember liking it. I couldn’t really tell the difference but I think it was the extra mile I took for the eggs to taste nicer.

Add some butter to the pan. Bring it to a low heat. Let the butter melt.

I woke up really late this morning. I think my sleep schedule is going downhill again. And what was that last night? I tossed and turned. Couldn’t sleep for the life of me. I should stop drinking coffee past 6 p.m. That’s what my aunt says.

Right, the eggs! Have I already added salt? I don’t remember. I definitely didn’t. I can handle a bit too much salt anyway. It should be fine.

Add a pinch of salt to the egg mixture.

Is that the sound of butter burning?  &U$#!

Pour the eggs into the pan (quickly). Don’t stir them for a couple of seconds.

I really should start working out soon. I promised myself to lose weight last summer. I think I’ve gained a couple of pounds since then. Maybe I should add less butter when making my eggs in the morning. Oh! Let me chug a huge glass of water before breakfast, I heard that helps too! Yeah, that feels better. I should drink more water. That’s what my mom says.

Stir the eg--- So, Uhm, yeah. I let them be for too long. This is going to be an omelet now.

Stir the eggs anyway.   

I guess I do have a preference for my eggs. Did I add salt by the way? Doesn’t matter. It’s too late for salt now. I’ll still eat it though.

Take the pan off the heat.

Serve your eggs on a plate.

Did I turn off the stove? Yes, I did. I sometimes forget to turn off the stove. I should get back into journaling. Why did I stop, again? I think at some point it felt like I was writing for an audience. I remember the phrase ‘’To live is to perform.’’ Who said that? * lemme google it real quick. *

Yes. Right. John Berger. Well, the quote isn’t actually his. He stated that a woman’s presence is intrinsic, a presence in which appearance becomes vital. But I think the quotes overlap in some way. Kinda. Idontknow. Should I write about this some time?

This just reminded me of Sun Yuan and Peng Yu’s ‘’Can't Help Myself,’’ I remember the first time I found out about the artwork and how much I wanted to crawl into myself and become an obscure mass where no one would be able to perceive me anymore. Not even myself.

Oh! Right, The eggs! Here goes nothing…

Well, they are too salty. And almost cold.

#this is not about eggs #i wish i knew how to stay afloat #i will try again tomorrow morning #eggs #creative writing #this came to me in a dream #im glad my mom doesn't know english #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writers and poets #writing

[reveriealamode]

After Abel, Dante Émile

[reveriealamode]

deadly love for wounds.

caravaggio // guercino // natalie diaz // maryanne bilham // sierra demulder // jenny holzer.

[reveriealamode]

thinking about the 'cannibal's delicacy,' those as-yet things that are too pulsing, chaotic, horrifying, or seductive for us to take a bite out of. reading this against biblical impurity and taboo: here we are told by god not what we should not eat, but what we can't. don't eat sacrificial female cows, the bible tells us. don't eat the body of god—not in this form, not yet. don't eat your father. not physically, at least. it's about making more delicate those delicacies. it's about fragility—ours and god's. i am trying to tell you that god knows what you can stomach. it is in your best interest to listen to him

[reveriealamode]

adam wakes up, probes his side. rib gone, wound sticky. god's fingers have touched a place that will never be touched again. how does adam not curl up, swell and fall, beg god to touch him again. to touch him everywhere else. not just ribs but cheek, inner thigh, lap. the worst part of the side-wound is not that god penetrated you but that he won't do it again