Book of Gardens

sus

sus

Moderator
I searched the link on twitter and nobody had posted it except the magazine account. It is dead. A dead garden. To be buried or cremated. And the dust used for the clay of future writings.
 
M

mvuent

Void Dweller
last summer my 7 year old cousin and i went to roper mountain science center. obviously it was really boring for me since the whole place was designed to get 7 year olds interested in science. but there was a phrase on some information plaque that inexplicably really struck me: "mountain stream ecosystem". idk why it was so intriguing to me but it stayed as a tab on my phone for ages... look i never said this was an interesting story, ok? the point is, in a weird sense, i feel like this thing you wrote has explained to me why that idea, that image, resonated. i'll think about gardens differently, better, now that i think you've sort of reconciled my existing assumptions with this question mark force/image/urge that now seems like an indirect pre-echo of what you wrote.
 
sus

sus

Moderator
These kindness are undeserved and breed in me further self loathing. My undeservingness rattles in the tall grass... Fuck!!!!
 
sus

sus

Moderator
craner said:
You're high maintenance Spendo, even for a struggling writer.

Make your peace with commercial failure and aesthetic excellence.
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I'm in my 20s it's part of the progression I wasn't angsty enough so I dialed it up a notch
 
craner

craner

Beast of Burden
suspended said:
Craner tell us about your twenties. Were you really young once?
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No, in my twenties I was trying extremely hard to be an adult. I talked about it on here once. I tried to acquire all the outward signifiers. Every day at 11am I would be reading a copy of the International Herald Tribune while sipping organic coffee in the Foyles cafe. Then, after work, I would go back to the chaos and squalor and mild poverty of my digs on Roman Road and face the reality of two £5 bottles of “wine” for the night. It was a decade of tragicomedy and, predictably, it ended quite badly.
 
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Reactions: sus
sus

sus

Moderator
craner said:
No, in my twenties I was trying extremely hard to be an adult. I talked about it on here once. I tried to acquire all the outward signifiers. Every day at 11am I would be reading a copy of the International Herald Tribune while sipping organic coffee in the Foyles cafe. Then, after work, I would go back to the chaos and squalor and mild poverty of my digs on Roman Road and face the reality of two £5 bottles of “wine” for the night. It was a decade of tragicomedy and, predictably, it ended quite badly.
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What did you do while/after drinking the wine bottles, without streaming services and gigabytes of free pornography??
 
sus

sus

Moderator
1672496316503.png

Did Foyles look like this, back then? Or have they done a renovation? Trying to get a mental picture
 
sus

sus

Moderator
craner said:
Wrote, talked, smoked, watched films.
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Well that sounds just swell and romantic enough. What did you smoke? What did you write on? This is when you wrote Citta Violenta? Is going from Wales to London back to Wales in older age a bit like moving to New York from the provinces n back?
 
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