December 2011
2 posts
November 2011
1 post
August 2010
4 posts
assuming that you are NOT the shit may lead to... →
July 2010
31 posts
5 tags
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KevinNuut.com →
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?
yellow birds
She sits by the door. Its old oak frame supports her thoughts as would a tree hold the very small nest in its’ safe mothering arms. The dreams flutter in the silence beating their tiny memories, playing a vision that dances on the sky blue walls. Nestled in between two knobby roots, one small delicate finger trails the hem of a flower garden in pink and blue. The petals smell real but feel like...
April 2010
14 posts
The daily activity most injurious to happiness is... →
psychotherapy:
“…In other words, the best way to make yourself happy is to have a short commute and get married. I’m afraid science can’t tell us very much about marriage so let’s talk about commuting. A few years ago, the Swiss economists Bruno Frey and Alois Stutzer announced the discovery of a new human foible, which they called “the commuters paradox”. They found that, when people are...
lamp, bracelet, 2-4-2, hair
hummmm- its there in her head, never ending, tonedeaf, dead it buzzes without pause it dims the yellow sneaking out of the small lamp by the side of her twin bed on it she sits wearing nothing but covers, and the one bracelet made by her lover it is silence, but it is so loud the digital 2-4-2 stares at her as it has for what seems like hours is it in her head, beneath her matted hair? or outside...
yellow birds
She sits by the door. Its old oak frame supports her thoughts as would a tree hold the very small nest in its’ safe mothering arms. The dreams flutter in the silence beating their tiny memories, playing a vision that dances on the sky blue walls. Nestled in between two knobby roots, one small delicate finger trails the hem of a flower garden in pink and blue. The petals smell real but feel like...
she sits alone
They opened their eyes to a rainy day and even before the thought of sleep had gone away the call to arms was heard, by all of man with butterflies they each stood tall rifles at the ready and with thoughts of home… and of friends like you the battle wore on red and cold each side taking losses for one gained and friends and lovers they lay slain and lines they moved on, forward each...
the Blue Haired Lady and the Sea
In a room darkened by my mood, I am lounged sleeplessly in a faded dirty recliner. The vines crawling their way down the faded blue arm and underneath and again over my head strangle. My thoughts choke before they even fully bloom. Silence hums at my ear drums playing a simple beat to my memories of yesterday, and the day before… I cant seem to place that moment in any context, her hair so red...
