Sunday, August 07, 2005

Composed In The Pasture Of Your Skull

I Am The One Who Shot These Horses Posted by Picasa

Where do we go? Where is the road we’re taking? What did you say? Did you say something? Shut up for a second, OK? What are words? Give me a break, man. You see that large meadow over there? Here: look outside my window for a second. You see a grazing land. A paddock, but I mean an endless one. You see the horizon? But there is no horizon, baby, just something hazy in a distance. Use your imagination. This talk is about a solid ground with hovering mist above it, and eleven stationary horses. The horses are starving, and composed in the sub-zero pasture of your skull. They are ice covered horses. White and glistening with frost. Dutch beasts with huge legs. No one feeds them. Their mantra is a bursting gasp. Can you hear them? Those horses over there, with black eyes that gaze into you. Do you see them?

You hear them and you see them, don’t you?

Well, they aren’t there. They are nowhere but in you. This Blog is nothing but a goddamn apparition.


The rose cage said...

He Buut, you've got mail. Don't hover or linger too much and furthermore: wow! I love to read you here.

Buter said...

I've got mail? Then how come my mailbox is empty, mister Rose? Did you wrote to a mailbox that was active in in the year 1830 or something? Funny you. I want mail right? I want a letter. I want to know how you are, sir. Do you think you can find some time to send me one? Holy Rose, you cute blond caged creature, sent me the bloody thing to and make me happy.

Caged Rose said...

Hey darn thing, I wrote to the e-mail address I found clicking your name in this survival guide. Okay, resending it too the artificial boulevard now.

cr said...

to I meant. And the previous e-address was @hotmail.

bevjackson said...

she's back. but I don't want to get attached becuz then I get sad when she disappears, but it's so good...I never think of horses or UFO's. I think about stupid things like...well, never mind. Keep my strings wound tight. yech.

Buter said...

Hello ma'am Jackson. :) I'm so glad you are back as well. I'll explain why I leave sometimes. It isn't my fault but it has to do with photoshop. My older verson of photoshop collapsed one day, and my life was never te same after that. I have a modern version of photoshop now, and I just don't seem to get it work. It is so user unfriendly that I sometimes believe the photoshop designers hate people. I'm trying to find out (for instance) for 3 months now, how to resize an image. The paintings get bigger and bigger. And I cannot make them look like something interesting but only like black skies. So, I'm very happy my spouse saw that UFO-like light in the sky, because I'm very good in creating black images with photoshop, no more, no less. :S

You see? Photoshop changed my life completely. I feel so handicapped and I miss the hot-wax coating tool. I also miss the skin I had when I was 18. Thank you for posting your message. :) I love your messages.

Anonymous said...

I like the Hot Wax Coating Tool too! I don't have any idea how it works, or even what it is-- but I just really like the sound of it.

Hey Daphne, you are awesome. You know that?

Did you know that all the stars in the sky are apparitions?

That's right. All the stars are frosty frizzy horse skull pinata implosions-- and the only reason we see them at all is through a Trick in Time God is too lazy to fix. It's true, dammit.

Nostradamus told me me this.


Patry Francis said...

But such a lovely apparition, such lovely horses, who cares if it's real or not?

Paul Slapion said...

Daphne....first of all your piece about the dream and the doors and the sand and your mother and the bird of stone...well that piece got right in...touched a place that needed touching and now I feel a lot calmer...better than drugs..Buter's better than drugs....this whole blog thing has me flumoxed...I tried to just respond to that first piece and I wrote to much and it wouldn't send and I wasn't about to start countind characters, unless they're hang'n round my house and giving me dirty looks every time I peek out or go out or hide now supposedly I have this blog. So am I officially now a blogger...used to be a jogger, but that's a story for another good to see your creative soul up and running, you know I'm a big fan......paul