1. Slower than time lapse can capture and narrated by the familiar voice of elementary science documentaries on film spooled around a giant reel, the openings close. Gradual and in that soothing way she insulates them in. For a time then their whole existence folds hypnotic around them until it all becomes one. Trance and entranced, chanting in enchantment against the pleasure of pain isolated. Buffered, layered. Laughter and the quiet rhythm of breath. Again and again she relaxes beyond relaxed.

     
  2. trixclibrarian {source}

    erikadprice —- here is an example (one of the better ones) usually i just used photos but this one i drew — the source link has poems in explanation if you’re interested. i’ll try to find another (bad) example, too ;}

     

  3. a mind generative and laced with secrets but not yet networked {enough}

    She woke up with a string of imaginary headlines ringing in her brain, all of them fading fast except the one she could last remember well enough to hold onto.

    It read: Body Shaving: Is the Latest Fashion Trend a Move toward Androgyny or Merely Extreme Manscaping. She hated these long headlines, hated the font designers and their haughty arrangements.

    The article focused on the men’s hairy hands — they left them curly long and unshaven. Some said it was to accentuate their gender, despite their now smooth arms and legs. Others saw it as another move toward the growing popularity of non-binary and androgynous systems. 

    Especially when many men started wearing the rubber gloves. Colored rubber gloves. Tight and transparent, balloonish in bright hues with the hair underneath showing through, all smashed and plastered down together. 

    Some people are afraid of clowns. Mickey Mouse’s white gloves made lots of folks suspicious. I wonder who is meant to be offended by their white face paint and red lips. Surely someone but I just don’t like the way it reminds me of sugar cookie icing glazed over sadness. Fake expressions. Mixed messages. Hungry sweets. 

    Skinny throats and bloated bellies. It all depends on how your definitions, your standards, for dystopia measure up. Some people don’t want to know or even contemplate the details of your parts other people need firm answers. 

    She shook her head, wet the headboard with the remains of the thought. Shed the dream in the bed she made upon standing up. At least her kids knew how to play Minecraft. At least the gloves in her dream weren’t rubber black. 

     

  4. Hi, are u a lady or non-binary person? Are you a filmmaker? Do you have filmmaking ambitions or interests?

    handaxe:

    I want to start an online organization for us. Please hmu and let me know how to get in touch with you! Likes and reblogs are appreciated.

     

  5. "A generative, networked system laced throughout with secrets."
    — Robin Sloan in The Secret of Minecraft on Medium
     

  6. great article, notes to self (below)

    gaming meet folklore
    the inner workings of the oral tradition
    evolved and evolving ever faster
    recorded documented
    forever growing
    change

    thinking about world building & culture building
    game literacy & fluency

    thinking of friends who raised their kids intentionally
    without exposure to electronics

    thinking of languages without words
    living and thriving in electronic environments
    we are talking about something far beyond
    a digital extension of text, words and alphabet

    translation, interpretation
    the phobia of language diversity (in some countries)

    again and again this question, then, how do we define dystopia?

     

  7. songs
    fell in drops of rain
    pooling together
    in a hand print
    holding the form
    of love cupped
    with the sweat of palms
    tears held back
    before given
    to generosity
    rhyme schemes
    propelled on musky
    rhythms
    floating on air
    levitate
    dense bass beats
    up from hot cores
    boiling beneath fingers
    meeting to keep
    their reach
    strong

    thirty three songs
    fell in drops of rain
    each a grateful hymn
    written in years
    blood rings
    out
    "you were born"

    Tagged #poetry #jillc
     

  8. sometimes i think of you
    in unfair terms

    sometimes i think of you
    at odd turns

    sometimes i think of you
    on the long road

    sometimes i think of you
    crossing my path home

    sometimes i think of you
    and pretend we are dancing

    sometimes i think of you
    more than simply in passing

    sometimes i think of you
    when i am sure you are thinking of me, too
    but mostly not

    sometimes i think of you
    on the day before your birthday

    sometimes i think of you
    tired with dark eyes frayed

    sometimes i think of you
    swimming in my wine

    sometimes i think of you
    too often, but never
    as mine

    Tagged #poetry #jillc
     

  9. indigo tinfoil crinkle
    blue sheet of silvery
    evening lake

    grass green afghan
    blanketing yellow firefly fringe
    woven in

    thick brushed suede
    grey cotton batting
    sky darkening

    my mind’s eye trained
    on the world you make
    me think with you
    in it

     

  10. Crow and Stephenson have collaborated on The Center for Science and the Imagination at ASU. And Stephenson founded a group called Project Hieroglyph, which recruits science fiction authors to write more optimistically about the future. 

     

  11. change is the only way to keep some thing the same

     

  12. thinly speaking

    what slice lies between
    the unspoken and the deceptive

    what cleavage wrenches
    absence from attention

    where does intention
    register and in contrast fail
    to count

    how many digits missing
    in the equation that figures
    your account

    of the story or
    is it truth

    which one, then
    when and how
    often

    is there an algorithm
    for exactly the right mixture
    of all the realities riding the edge
    of and edging out what stands in for
    the genuine meaning attaching
    me to you

     

  13. flown coops

    all sad eyes
    heavy sighs
    napping sprawled
    out on his side
    flanks

    my dog tried
    to stow away
    with the boys
    when the company
    departed the mutinous
    little fur ball
    piece of shit

    house blown
    from full on
    riot
    to quiet
    in an instant

    i need him
    {at least}
    to stay put

    Tagged #poetry #jillc
     

  14. parties awesome
    -ly exhausting :)

     

  15. the plan

    twenty-four burgers
    fifteen brats
    a dozen hot dogs
    forty-nine assorted buns
    six quarts of strawberries
    two of blackberries
    two pineapples one watermelon
    one half a sheet cake
    white with plain white whipped icing
    in a single smooth layer no swirls or writing
    twelve pounds of potato salad
    five pounds of broccoli with raisins
    seven pounds of homestyle coleslaw
    fifty forks and spoons
    three hundred napkins
    eighty large and sixty small paper plates
    twenty-nine cans of beer
    thirty seven sodas
    forty bottles of water
    one jug of lemonade
    coolers roasters and many bags of ice
    four extension cords
    one weber grill
    manned by one very patient human
    tables and chairs
    and a bean bag toss
    gifts and cards
    people and dogs
    under a tent
    on a beautiful day
    in the shade