caim
“What do you despise? By this are you truly known.”
two green ceramic cups. misshapen handles. the teapots teal bleed matches the clay. it was not planned. some things just happen and synchronicities appear. I mistake luck for fate. misappropriation wears many faces. malformed clay is a sign of inexperience. the pots spent too much time in the kiln and come out too small. hissing.
Rain Dogs. Tom Waits was born in November. There are nineteen songs on the album and one song shares the album's title. Gun Street Girl. Cemetery Polka. Walking Spanish. Each song is like candy. I peel off the wrapper, delighted by the stickiness that coats my hands. My bed is wide and white and smells like the black incense I purchased from a woman with navy eyeshadow that winked in a cats eye.
what is the sound for solitude? it's the heavy rain. low slung clouds that clap thunder and present lightning bolts over a cerulean sea. translucent coffee cups with block handles. this cup is balanced. chiseled. well-formed. there are no holes to stick my pinky finger. I prefer the miscalculation. I prefer progression over precision.
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