sacrificial pen pusher

[kml_flashembed movie=”http://crissxross.net/remix/penpusherred.swf” width=”560″ height=”420″/]
writing’s easy… all you do is stare at the blank space until your forehead bleeds
or… push the pen

from: forgotten techniques + ode to XL5 + stamen.com/projects/splatter
related to: pen pusher blue
flash source: penpusherred_fl8.fla (53.5kb)

site tags: , , ,

14 responses to “sacrificial pen pusher”

  1. avatar runran Says:

    Forgetting Hephaestus

    I sat with an elbow propped on the arm of my old stuffed chair, held my head in my hand and read a poem called Jane’s Dream by John Haines. It’s about a woman who in a dream finds one of her children lying in bed with a torn throat: There was a stranger. We didn’t want to tell. Mother mustn’t know. Don’t say a word.

    A drop of blood fell to the page. I stiffened. A chill shuddered through my veins. But, silly me, I had merely scratched a scab at the side of my nose. Imagine my relief. I wondered: was I supposed to pay particular attention to the coincidence, did it mean something, was it a sign of some sort? The torn throat, the blood on the page

    I remembered my most recent, more serious wound. It was the day we packed our van to leave for the coast. There was no room inside so I hefted the spare tire onto the roof. I lost my grip and the tire fell back, the metal rim struck me on the forehead. I staggered into the house, barely consciousness, blood trailed through the hallway and into the washroom.

    I stood before the mirror, blood smeared across my face, already clotted in my eyebrows. I thought about the veins in our foreheads, how they are so very close to the surface. And that anatomical detail reminded me of Minerva. I remembered how Jupiter devoured his pregnant wife and developed a nasty headache, then asked Vulcan to hit him in the head with an axe. Jupiter’s blood spilled on the clayey earth and his daughter Minerva sprung up in full armor.

    Sometimes I forget the name of Vulcan’s Greek counterpart. Some things we never knew, some things we’d rather forget. I recognize the phrase in Haines’ poem – don’t say a word – because I hurled it at my younger brother, followed by, “or I’ll pound your head.” I also recognize the woman’s nightmare – waking with a start, bathed in sweat, fearing for a child. All these thoughts in three blinks of an eye. Bloody coincidences. Bloody memories.

    (from transitions)

  2. avatar runran Says:

    Forgetting Hephaestus

    I sat with an elbow propped on the arm of my old stuffed chair, held my head in my hand and read a poem called Jane’s Dream by John Haines. It’s about a woman who in a dream finds one of her children lying in bed with a torn throat: There was a stranger. We didn’t want to tell. Mother mustn’t know. Don’t say a word.

    A drop of blood fell to the page. I stiffened. A chill shuddered through my veins. But, silly me, I had merely scratched a scab at the side of my nose. Imagine my relief. I wondered: was I supposed to pay particular attention to the coincidence, did it mean something, was it a sign of some sort? The torn throat, the blood on the page

    I remembered my most recent, more serious wound. It was the day we packed our van to leave for the coast. There was no room inside so I hefted the spare tire onto the roof. I lost my grip and the tire fell back, the metal rim struck me on the forehead. I staggered into the house, barely consciousness, blood trailed through the hallway and into the washroom.

    I stood before the mirror, blood smeared across my face, already clotted in my eyebrows. I thought about the veins in our foreheads, how they are so very close to the surface. And that anatomical detail reminded me of Minerva. I remembered how Jupiter devoured his pregnant wife and developed a nasty headache, then asked Vulcan to hit him in the head with an axe. Jupiter’s blood spilled on the clayey earth and his daughter Minerva sprung up in full armor.

    Sometimes I forget the name of Vulcan’s Greek counterpart. Some things we never knew, some things we’d rather forget. I recognize the phrase in Haines’ poem – don’t say a word – because I hurled it at my younger brother, followed by, “or I’ll pound your head.” I also recognize the woman’s nightmare – waking with a start, bathed in sweat, fearing for a child. All these thoughts in three blinks of an eye. Bloody coincidences. Bloody memories.

    (from transitions)

  3. avatar crissxross Says:

    blood and memory
    forgetting what bleeds
    the pen drains the ink well
    floods the high tide
    swells and ebbs

    take it to the edge
    the full bleed

    word = uprising
    full blooded
    or bloody

  4. avatar crissxross Says:

    blood and memory
    forgetting what bleeds
    the pen drains the ink well
    floods the high tide
    swells and ebbs

    take it to the edge
    the full bleed

    word = uprising
    full blooded
    or bloody

  5. avatar R3/\/\1X\/\/0RX Says:

    track test…

    test of new plugin

    ps:it works, but i’ve removed the link on the name because we’re not quite ready yet

    ……

  6. avatar R3//1X//0RX Says:

    track test…

    test of new plugin

    ps:it works, but i’ve removed the link on the name because we’re not quite ready yet

    ……

  7. avatar R3//1X//0RX » Blog Archive » virtual vardøger Says:

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  8. avatar R3//1X//0RX » Blog Archive » virtual vardøger Says:

    […] | R3//1X//0RX | about | devil’s rope journal | rss | comments | members | admin | « sacrificial pen pusher announced: the devils rope journal […]

  9. avatar R3//1X//0RX » Blog Archive » Spacial combinatorics Says:

    […] from sacrificial pen pusher […]

  10. avatar R3//1X//0RX » Blog Archive » Spacial combinatorics Says:

    […] from sacrificial pen pusher […]

  11. avatar R3//1X//0RX » Blog Archive » pen pusher blue Says:

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  12. avatar R3//1X//0RX » Blog Archive » pen pusher blue Says:

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  13. avatar pen pusher blue at crissXross / wilX Says:

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