James - ProfilesArchive

About Me

I read much of the night, and go south during the winter.

When I try to analyze my own cravings, motives, actions and so forth, I surrender to a sort of retrospective imagination which feeds the analytic faculty with boundless alternatives and which causes each visualized route to fork and re-fork without end in the maddeningly complex prospect of my past.

I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook

My Interests

Truckers and hipsters. Smoke and mirrors. Space travel. Modern medicine. Cloning. 12 o'clock along the reaches of the street. Solitude. Tree-climbing. Etherized skies. Rain. Gin and vermouth. Spiced tea. Baking. Post-modernism. Honesty. Figure and form. Line and color. The world as color. The world. People. Lonliness. Inspiration. Cityscapes. Escape. Your blues. Self-referencing. Plagiarism. Musical theory. Calculus. The golden ratio and other phenomena. The sparkling electronic underground. Self-deprecation. Altered states of mind. Slam poetry. Cultural identity. Critical theory. Comparitive literature. Anthropology. Fine motor skills. Gender biases. Revolution. Records. Driving. Moving in general. Transportation. The dark center of it all.

I'd like to meet:

Oh. And watch this:

Music:

"Zurich is $tained.""Seduction can be oh so nice.""You said you need me in California, but no thanks."

Television:

Studio 60. Sports Night. The West Wing. Lost. House. Pushing Daisies. Etc.Scripted television, please god.

My Blog

Experiment.

Not sleeping Sometimes she plays mercilessly--finite games in an infinite dreamscape. Scraping our lives off the tops of other peoples' is sort of a hobby;sort of an occupation,really.Paycheck to pay...
Posted by James on Thu, 01 Nov 2007 09:51:00 PST

Sketches

It's funnywhat an empty parking lotand cigarettesdo to your brain.I'm thinking.Cold.The air burns awayand my shadow reaches to the parking stripes.This is important - the way small shivers translateto...
Posted by James on Mon, 05 Mar 2007 09:45:00 PST

Dahlgren

to wound the autumnal city.So howled out the world to give him a name. The in-dark answered with wind. All you know I know: careening astronaughts and bank clerks glancing at the clock before lunch; a...
Posted by James on Fri, 09 Feb 2007 04:26:00 PST

Some songs just go

Testing, testing...
Posted by James on Tue, 03 Oct 2006 01:24:00 PST

We be beatin' infinity over sacred hums

I wander through memories and shades of memories that dwell in the third-world silos of my brain. At times I feel unbearably old pressing on without progress, ever-marching in a headlong rush to a fin...
Posted by James on Fri, 22 Sep 2006 11:29:00 PST

Put your crystals under my pillow

The monologue I actuall wrote, instead of the one Shanna fucked up:I am happiest when I feel the gods in my stomach are satisfied. I am happiest when it rains; when I am in motion. I am happies...
Posted by James on Wed, 13 Sep 2006 04:08:00 PST

Emma's house

Something happened today. You can't exhale your soul to breathe something else in. I tried, but all I taste is stale air. It gets so stuffy in here when I keep the doors closed too l...
Posted by James on Fri, 01 Sep 2006 11:33:00 PST

It's not like she's enslaved, it's more like she's enthralled.

We were only pretending to balance on the the tracks. It was about the time I reached down to pull some gravel from my shoe that I turned up and saw you, for once, as what you saw yourself to be...
Posted by James on Tue, 29 Aug 2006 10:11:00 PST

The weather inside

It's like riding a train with no particular destination. Sure, you're on a track, but it's not like you've seen any of these sights. Besides, being on a set path has it's own comforts.&nbs...
Posted by James on Mon, 14 Aug 2006 10:23:00 PST

It's late

Yet I persist in pushing my own natural limits. I'll sleep when I'm dead. That's what I've told myself since I was twelve.And it's not that I don't like to sleep. Or that I can't sle...
Posted by James on Thu, 10 Aug 2006 12:35:00 PST