tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17793195208977587172024-03-19T16:58:16.339-04:00animals in the actemily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-4633805165777369302009-08-15T01:58:00.002-04:002009-08-15T02:00:04.524-04:00alsoim picture bloggin on <a href="gumbolaya.tumblr.com">GUMBOLAYA</a> <br />im not sure exactly what it will become, but i may eventually just post there!emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-2029716322270762992009-08-15T01:57:00.001-04:002009-08-15T01:58:28.268-04:00my life, i am the center of a deepening darkness,<br />the emptiness of infinite space.<br /><br />i sit surrounded by its victims:<br />broken bones and beating hearts,<br />and lungs still breathing the heavy air.<br />all impersonal reflections of what has been won.<br /><br />i sing dopo la vittoria as the sun sets,<br />mourning their loss as i praise a lord,<br />provider now of a feast of ashes,<br />burned from the figures of lovers of old.<br /><br />after the victory, the darkness is whole.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-21802236239238685162009-07-29T11:05:00.002-04:002009-07-29T11:05:51.405-04:00you know how when you are doing a really complicated puzzle and you think a certain piece fits in a certain spot but it just won't. and then hours or weeks later (if you leave puzzles out) you realize it does fit but you didn't turn it the right way? so, i got a piece to fit, and i wasn't even trying, it just happened.<br /><br />and i get what my portion of responsibility was, and i fully admit my shortcomings. it does not take away from her end, but the perspective shifts. i don't want to admit that as it seems to me as though i am dismissing fault or that i find such a reaction perfectly reasonable, and i feel the opposite of those things.<br /><br />but it has helped me to feel less animosity or anger or revulsion for a person towards whom i'd rather not have those feelings. granted, i will never see her again, and perhaps i will think of her even less often than i do now, which isn't all that often. it is still nice to finally be able to check that box and throw away that list that i did not know existed.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-60844006017301852412009-07-06T01:00:00.001-04:002009-07-06T01:02:22.409-04:00Bookish-Art<a href="http://s178.photobucket.com/albums/w258/dirtbagsbaby/?action=view¤t=5252_786611222875_23425630_47273709.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w258/dirtbagsbaby/5252_786611222875_23425630_47273709.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><br />I finally have a picture of the wig i created out of Porn for my Artists' Book class last semester. My lady Propecia.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-83223716295161912442009-07-01T11:09:00.003-04:002009-07-01T11:10:18.765-04:00tramps like youwe were a couple of turnpike head turners, <br />young buck hunters, spruced up springsteens, <br />high fiving our high heeled wild sides. hearts slow <br />drip skipping as we raced the rising sun on our last lip gloss runs. <br />we were name takers, ball breakers, cum fakers, 'til we were done.<br /><br />and gave the streets back to the newest ditzy tit sinning minis, <br />changed the locks on our legs, and went home.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-69951557030071258222009-06-26T16:03:00.002-04:002009-06-26T16:04:07.688-04:00Coconut Records with Chloe Sevigny<a href="http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=59564789">Any Fun - Coconut Records - Music Video</a><br/><object width="425px" height="360px" ><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/><param name="wmode" value="transparent"/><param name="movie" value="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=59564789,t=1,mt=video"/><embed src="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=59564789,t=1,mt=video" width="425" height="360" allowFullScreen="true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"></embed></object>emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-59850094919057087332009-06-23T12:48:00.001-04:002009-06-23T12:48:19.317-04:00<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jFkOdUX6JB0&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jFkOdUX6JB0&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />we make our own monsters.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-58333101684954521742009-06-18T14:21:00.005-04:002009-06-18T14:31:09.998-04:00<span style="font-style:italic;"></span><span style="font-style:italic;">[Fingers as Extensions]</span><span style="font-style:italic;"></span> <br />Words intended to hurt I keenly interpret professionally wisely correctly sadly. Harmful and stooping rare slips when it is recognized previously presently nowly by in oneself. meticulously crammed behind a closet door polished mirrors vel-cro wood glued behind it bunched blanketed clothing kneaded over regretfully paradoxically necessarily good simple and complicated. Crammed and empty of definitive meaning like this. Late at night an ease envelopes the room. Objects pronounce themselves against others a glass, the draped scarf, the patterns of the rug seem to recline at will in their untellable histories. Something less greedy than fatigue, intellectual than though neatly packages the body. A cartoon framework. A cobble path of moments drawn up above our heads. Slinking down, with what does the mind reattach itself? Words as enamel, no longer form uncertainty.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-4344392833782680972009-05-31T15:19:00.001-04:002009-05-31T15:19:58.957-04:00<blockquote>“And you musn’t be sad when she disappears, you wouldn’t come home either if your house were made of honey. A black-treacle building. I told you so.”</blockquote>emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-53963076487682304092009-05-12T23:29:00.000-04:002009-05-12T23:30:15.320-04:00smoke on the waterthe sun slumps low<br />drags the tide down with it<br />and the harbor smells hung over,<br />hurled up, sour, locked out on the stoop.<br /><br />this april just hangs on us;<br />wet laundry draped from the door knob,<br />the morning after our long moans got drowned out in the concave of one another's mouths<br />and the fog steamrolled over our sound.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-41172786526369888772009-05-11T21:41:00.003-04:002009-05-11T21:44:45.160-04:00escaping the city<a href="http://nl.tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i44.tinypic.com/2z65dm0.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><br />its time to outstretch my cramped limbs and give strawberry kisses to the fresh air of the Blue Ridge mountains with my lady.<br />farewell brooklyn, ill be back before you know it.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-34710732214178418202009-05-06T03:05:00.000-04:002009-05-06T03:07:43.858-04:00Sapiens<br /> <br />I was made in the shape of a man, with few exotic features; <br />neither beak nor paws, nor anything adventurous, <br />but my opposable ape thumbs <br />remind me that there are other things I may have been. <br /> <br />At night, I always feel less human, <br />like the darkness releases the wild; <br />the reservoir is filled again <br />but with a savage, seething current. <br />But as night recedes into the morning, <br />I freeze, now solid, frost-capped ice, <br />deception known to every human. <br />I expand beyond my animal constraints <br />and hairline fractures bloom in my beginnings. <br />I am no longer instincts and evolution; <br />I am more and more and somehow better <br />until night, when the myth is once again dispelled. <br /> <br />The power of expression seems to dull and darken <br />our understanding of the roots of our behavior, <br /> those most basic processes, what we have come from; <br />I regret the loss of pure primitive midnight, where we were once beasts, <br />a template for raw existence, nothing more.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-40796255032916966792009-04-25T11:34:00.002-04:002009-04-25T11:37:18.726-04:00need for white<a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i41.tinypic.com/104rjma.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><br />these beauties can be found at oaknyc<br />gotta splurge. just gotta.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-48626470791233948772009-04-21T05:33:00.002-04:002009-04-21T05:34:47.409-04:00This poem is supposed to have given spaces, but the html will not do it justice. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Animal Sounds Jolted</span><br /><br />When something was wondered by curiosity<br /> what that was a cat peaks a bed-head out<br />of the mid-night door in to a light binged hallway<br />square blank folded short playhouse vision nothing.<br />Curiosity side-<br />Steps and the writing voice thinks about words and <br />forgets the :: pop :: sound in the hallway<br /> remembers<br />going back in self-removal<br />sad rope j u m bl e<br />of cords tangled chargers.<br /> Likes the sound after all.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-10474153438811366212009-04-16T18:11:00.002-04:002009-04-16T18:16:28.549-04:00InspirationHere a just a few of the things that have made writing in the springtime, in bed, far more mystical and beautiful. <br /><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i44.tinypic.com/w0qn2h.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i44.tinypic.com/2ic5zr7.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><a href="http://tinypic.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i43.tinypic.com/wufe9x.jpg" border="0" alt="Image and video hosting by TinyPic"></a><br /><br />Currently, I want nothing more than to escape the city with a tent in tow and dream under the stars.... I will just have to wait for May.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-69467690277058405112009-03-27T12:45:00.000-04:002009-03-27T12:46:19.073-04:00dream here<a href="http://s178.photobucket.com/albums/w258/dirtbagsbaby/?action=view¤t=20080925194019.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w258/dirtbagsbaby/20080925194019.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-44132573555318402672009-03-12T00:15:00.002-04:002009-03-12T12:37:38.301-04:00norwegian dreamTiny diagrammatic shapes<br />Sensed the lingering<br />Of time. A mass <br />Of warm mud clinging <br />To it. The birds <br />Would not leave. <br />Bird-shaped metal<br />Crashed.<br />The continuation of my dream<br />Soft white glow <br />The angle of moonlight<br />Lured exaggerated<br />Silhouette. The beating<br />Motions of the darkness <br />Swallow stillness<br />I was huge<br />Rustling faintlyemily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-13408607244593186272009-03-09T15:30:00.001-04:002009-03-09T15:31:52.826-04:00i put my soul into what i do<object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4F-CpE73o2M&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4F-CpE73o2M&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"></embed></object><br /><br />As Jacque said, "Do you see the look on his face?"<br />Every look of mine&yours gathered from the past 21 years of living.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-86967753165090693472009-03-03T22:30:00.001-05:002009-03-03T22:30:47.371-05:00Fairy TaleShe feels like Sherlock Holmes has been combing her hair<br />All full of sleeping moths’ metamorphisizing inside her<br />Mysteries keep cutting out the electricity <br />On the edge of a verb<br />She could feel the devil dancing <br />To the rhythm of thunderstorm tongues<br />Wet with metaphors <br />Now shame is the shadow of love<br />And Sherlock Holmes is kissing her nipples <br />Twanging tongue to fire thigh <br />Cause freedom is a fleeting feeling<br />With the forest wedged between herself and the world<br />Deconstruct the layers <br />While she shifts to lessen the painemily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-21435254963562900252009-03-03T22:14:00.003-05:002009-03-03T22:19:54.503-05:00isn't she lovely?<a href="http://s5.photobucket.com/albums/y156/ylimej/?action=view¤t=pink_dolphin_1358282c.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y156/ylimej/pink_dolphin_1358282c.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br />thank you louisiana for <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/4927224/Pink-dolphin-appears-in-US-lake.html">this</a>emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-85767297842431983192009-03-02T00:40:00.001-05:002009-03-02T00:41:11.801-05:00snow day<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wjxef8AfVQg&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wjxef8AfVQg&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />its time to start taking care of every aspect of myself. its time to get selfish.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-53937064612571339612009-02-25T10:42:00.001-05:002009-02-25T10:42:49.492-05:00young voiceThe kids bang to the beats,<br />Skateboard to concrete, <br />Beer panhandle, land in on two feet.<br />Their wet ears can’t hear it<br />Rebound sounds of old poets spoken.<br />But I recognize that tongue,<br />My own mouth was once,<br />Young. <br /><br />i find that this is the only pace:<br />aging bones and growing wrinkles.<br />a picture of the world upon a single face,<br />and time - the difference.<br /><br />i find that there are many shapes, and many instruments that create them; fires for the forging make the dark a lesser place, never again so oppressive or binding.<br /><br />sometimes, the people in my memories blur,<br />as if one could be another could be a third;<br />and sometimes, my memories aren't memories at all<br />but ghosts pretending, out of line with reality,<br />molded from formerly accurate shapes,<br />replete with embellishments.<br /><br />i study these fictions as truths, the two now indiscernible like distant shadows , the rate at which they multiply absurd.<br /><br />And ya see planes are coming down faster<br />Than I can catch em them.<br />Places I never knew the names to are smoking,<br />Smoldering, sweetly and then not<br />So sweetly , in me.<br />Leaving me heaving,<br />For once not weeping<br />Wishing water please, sweep<br />These trees into a cool sleep so I can speak <br />Freely.<br />Once again.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-9062173385548126152009-02-14T14:07:00.003-05:002009-02-14T16:05:53.772-05:00newlittledoeislove<a href="http://www.littledoeislove.com">Little Doe </a>has just released there new lookbook for the spring season. Its my favorite combination of 60's bohemian and Native America culture. I am crossing fingers for one for my birthday but money is tight. Here are some of my favorite new pieces. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCoceqCG6ROWMb01jgmC4z8Yvs4I9JGqgFHOaGjBaDgOw5EFzHEm9NWrBNCEcm-S63IuCWJ4dfFP9ogEuBZFs-HyMDCA4JJc0sPvf4gAB5Pbqc5EEp5A9bUnqqFPlnqXZGGvxNSBVIMRQ/s1600-h/Picture+13.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCoceqCG6ROWMb01jgmC4z8Yvs4I9JGqgFHOaGjBaDgOw5EFzHEm9NWrBNCEcm-S63IuCWJ4dfFP9ogEuBZFs-HyMDCA4JJc0sPvf4gAB5Pbqc5EEp5A9bUnqqFPlnqXZGGvxNSBVIMRQ/s320/Picture+13.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302761870918302098" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrH5gR3RZEIER28nWCSuuT1kCZxWiUwOQCUPbtenWwZhl6a4s4BBQvvNOWns4oK6pSX3ljVcc0CkwAjmjGv42fIDSczS3KQrqcQ8A25Rj8gv9mSR4jTaXHD2n5-Ass2VW4wHE6x6XC3M/s1600-h/Picture+6.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrH5gR3RZEIER28nWCSuuT1kCZxWiUwOQCUPbtenWwZhl6a4s4BBQvvNOWns4oK6pSX3ljVcc0CkwAjmjGv42fIDSczS3KQrqcQ8A25Rj8gv9mSR4jTaXHD2n5-Ass2VW4wHE6x6XC3M/s320/Picture+6.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302761868504188898" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVc1vxuhsFIB0YTUfFn8iRCG-CKK8ADYXbac0B13sSOXT2NOZL2LTP0tTYbuPwNTxDvzdkF3ff2OyV2Oe3SVDSzi9CBWufIPgw0VjmPwSpB-pm1mPQvlxuPZzzA-Bp-SoEls2RFdwKmTU/s1600-h/Picture+12.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVc1vxuhsFIB0YTUfFn8iRCG-CKK8ADYXbac0B13sSOXT2NOZL2LTP0tTYbuPwNTxDvzdkF3ff2OyV2Oe3SVDSzi9CBWufIPgw0VjmPwSpB-pm1mPQvlxuPZzzA-Bp-SoEls2RFdwKmTU/s320/Picture+12.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302761868165876482" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxn9s2nQkvjvMiDLXkRowifPgx8sDLNqN5qnn8jc2Ri_ICwzcds-utICtN6wIiQqr5OP6yHIBYqB9UmRsQE0YnMIi84HOquCpiF4_AkVDlY_O8i-N6W1qAULbri0bFQjvKczQcK8B2wZM/s1600-h/Picture+7.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxn9s2nQkvjvMiDLXkRowifPgx8sDLNqN5qnn8jc2Ri_ICwzcds-utICtN6wIiQqr5OP6yHIBYqB9UmRsQE0YnMIi84HOquCpiF4_AkVDlY_O8i-N6W1qAULbri0bFQjvKczQcK8B2wZM/s320/Picture+7.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302761859181540450" /></a>emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-85206644298028849472009-02-11T18:16:00.001-05:002009-02-11T18:16:39.709-05:00<a href="http://s178.photobucket.com/albums/w258/dirtbagsbaby/?action=view¤t=superpoop-dot-com-variant-2.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w258/dirtbagsbaby/superpoop-dot-com-variant-2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1779319520897758717.post-31745560422278997642009-02-11T18:12:00.001-05:002009-02-11T18:14:17.395-05:00ongoing project not done yetGonna go months with a mouthful of gonnas, <br /> ‘til I get a good jaw on you.<br />I won’t even bite a bit of skin<br />I’ll just save it all for the mosquitoes <br />to tattoo their red map upon<br />and just gibber jabberwocky, <br /> sleep softly<br /> <br /> ****** <br /><br />I can’t even remember my dreams anymore<br />And you look at me as though that is some<br /> kind of problem<br />Well fuck you, okay?<br /><br />I never was one for real words<br />So allow me to quit rapping that poetry pipe.<br />Lets just say your words make me wet<br /><br /><br /> ******<br /><br />And oh the rusted tops of pick up trucks.<br /> Musta been a hundred and one suns that day,<br />And you <br />all stupid in the eye with gold spun tales<br />of a thousand well worn punches where people love you so hard<br />they hafta hit you. <br /><br /><br />I don’t know<br /> I don’t know<br /> I don’t know<br /> <br /> Y’all <br /> <br /> ******<br /><br />Maybe all words are just a song:<br /><br />If his is dee dum dee dum dee dum.<br /> If hers is diddy dum diddy dum diddy dum.<br /> Mine is dum dum dum.<br /> A dull drum.emily-nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10571570418452250324noreply@blogger.com0