you almost smile. can’t.
the sunset, cherry-red, stains your tongue
and the clock keeps ticking like how the
earth spins the same way even after
all it’s been through:
go back in time, pet a brontosaurus and the
days and nights stay the same and
what was it that song said?
please hurry leave me i can’t breathe
please don’t say you love me…
there was something after that.
you can’t remember.
you feel keystone-state lust and
carnival sticky and
there is nothing for you here anymore.
except, that is a lie, because
of course there’s still something there
but you see that’s the problem:
the problem is there’s always a something,
a something to go back to,
a something to miss, and, it’s funny.
funny like how you’d sobbed midnight
after a dance that lasted too short a time,
funny like how you kept reaching for the gear shift.
a new car. not used to it being automatic.
funny like how you’re not used to things being automatic,
like how you’re not used to it,
happening on its own, you’d wanted to be able
to control it. predict it.
reach for the stick shift and keep your hand there,
it is the hardest way to learn how to drive but
once you’ve learned manual you can drive anything.
you can’t remember who first said that to you.
so. it’s gone.
whatever it is you are missing you have to pretend
it’s not there because maybe that makes the truth
a little easier to swallow,
cricket-sized guilt like you’re the star of survivor,
no matches, backpack, plastic water bottle.
or maybe you are the cameraman,
no free hands traversing across nothingness
in the wake of the beautiful lead.
yes, that was it:
off to the side, camera. both hands full.
but it’s still there, see, and you can’t get rid of it because
why would you want to.
the memories collect, stack like playing cards,
want to see a trick? that was what had happened.
want to see a trick? and a hand, picking up a jack, watch.
a flourish and it
and not like that was a symbol, foreshadowing,
but who’s to say it wasn’t.
who’s to say the window wasn’t open for a reason,
cool purple air and stars seeping in through
too-thin curtains, look.
you remember dim lights and bibles in drawers and
no one could understand. that was it, right?
no one could understand. look.
the moon becomes a slice thinner every day
and the bed gets firmer and the door hinges creak
like they have a secret to tell.
tell me, you want to say to the door,
tell me like how the sunlight streams through
cold metal blinds, tell me like
how the linoleum tile sparkles in the twilight, how
everything looks beautiful when you try hard enough.
when you look at it too long.
when there’s nothing beautiful left so you have to compensate.
the world deflates like a soccer ball and
the car keeps driving. you can’t seem to stop it now.
you can smell midnight stars still, radio playing low.
alone. holy alone, like that poem, over and over.
holy alone. holy alone.
leave the keystone behind and don’t look back –
there’s nothing for you there:
that’s the lie. but who’s to say it isn’t true,
bible all the way back there in the drawer.
forget. it’s all you can do.
let me walk to the top of the big night sky // m.d.
it’s been a lifetime and a half. i still look for you in the clouds that haven’t made up their minds about who or what they want to be yet. i look for you in footprints filled with oil because of the rainbows that come shimmering up to the surface. in the potted plant that has exactly two green leaves and two dead ones. i listen for you when everything else is quiet. but when that happens the clock starts ticking so loud i can feel it in my chest and it doesn’t feel good. so i look for you in the rain, leave the porchlight on. because we’ve all heard stories about the strangers who show up on the first doorstep they can find, seeking shelter. i’m hoping one day that the stranger would be you. the doorstep would be my doorstep. and we could pretend that everything’s soft and new like the earth after a thunderstorm.
Honestly, the instrumental for the 7th sense still gives me a lil chill down my spine and here’s why;
1) it starts off with some really deep bass. 2) @0:25 you can hear the soft sounds of a clock ticking (remember jaehyun’s line that say “the clock laughs at me, it does not give a single error”) 3) @0:34 the creepy deep voice that says ‘take it slow’ 4) @0:38 the sounds of metal hitting something? a ticking sound? idk what it is 5) @0:53 THE FUCKING KNOCKING AT THE DOOR??? THEN THE DOOR OPENING??? AND THE SIRENS THAT FOLLOW??? and then there’s a bell??!? 6) @1:10 the gunshot…. (after they opened the door they shot the person??) 7) @1:13 idk what it is but it’s very soft and it sounds like a very silent scream 8) @1:17 more ticking then a ping. 9) @1:51 there’s a whistle 10) @2:11 there’s the scream again… there’s a scream yall its a scream then the knocking at the door then the door opening and im in tears 11) @2:30 the gunshot again but there’s a weird whistle with it? like those whistles you hear in Disney movies 12) @2:37 theres a fucking whisper 13) @2:46 a yawn?? 14) @3:01 the rattling of metal?
the overall feeling the deep bass and the constant ticking give you is just creepy wow
There’s water dripping off my roof that sounds like a ticking clock and my brain chose this moment to remember that one episode of Doctor Who where the clockwork droids broke a clock so they could hide in the room without their ticking being noticed and I am suddenly VERY AWAKE
auditory processing disorder is a bit like that joke where a deafening lorry passes every time a character says something important
but instead of vehicle, its any gust of wind, any clinking plates, dogs barking, opening or shutting doors, laughter on the other side of the room, plastic bags rustling, ticking clocks, your own footsteps & your breathing & chewing
and instead of happening with comedic timing, it covers up 70% of every conversation. to the point where you have to just accept you cant hear the person two feet away from you, and nod along anyway, and hope youre not agreeing to something disasterous
She has never believed in supernatural things. It all feels like fiction to her. But lately, she’s been lying awake at night and fantasizing about parallel universes.
Most often, she fantasizes that their paths never crossed. In this universe, she still smiles at strangers. She still dreams about love. She has no clue that somewhere, in another world, there was a boy who loved her very much. She is not haunted by the fact that the very same boy destroyed her. She is still so happy.
So, as she stares at the ceiling fan, listening to the clock tick toward 1am, she wishes so badly that she could exist in that universe instead. Because, after all, maybe it isn’t really true what they say. Maybe it isn’t better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Because maybe never loving at all is far less painful.
Starbucks, Nike and
more than 360 other businesses and investors have called on
President-elect Donald Trump and other world leaders to remain committed
to the Paris agreement on climate change. Other signers include conglomerate Unilever, chemicals giant Dupont, and technology company Hewlett Packard. The clock is ticking.
Okay, so I just rewatched episode 7 to get the fully beauty of it again. And one thing that bothered me was why Yuuri did the hair thing again, touching Viktor’s “balding spot”. And then I realized what I hadn’t the first time because I had been too swept up in Yuuri’s crying.
So obviously right after the fight happened it was time to go, (”Tick tock, says the clock” in the words of Andrew Minyard b/c I’m rereading aftg) like right after that. When they’re walking, you can see it on the faces of the reporters and how the two refuse to look at each other. They’re mad at each other. This is the first time that they have actually had a falling out. And then someone makes the comment of, oh what happened between him and Viktor? There is still so much tension between them.
They can’t even look at each other before Yuuri gets on the ice, and it’s like Viktor is trying to figure out how to resolve it when he’s giving Yuuri tissues. And then Yuuri does the thing. It’s a way for him to let Viktor know they hey, it’s cool, I forgive you.
And here’s why it’s important!!!
Viktor is always the one picking Yuuri back up and trying to make him feel better. But here’s Viktor, screwing up like a real human being for the first time in front of Yuuri and it was a bad mess up. But this is now Yuuri’s time to be the one to comfort Viktor and pick him back up after his mistake. In an attempt to get Yuuri hyped up for the routine, he screws up and Yuuri is left to pick himself up for the first time since Viktor’s been there. And then in turn, tries to help Viktor too. And it worked, which is why Yakov makes the remark that he does.
These babies are learning and growing together and it is like a ray of sunshine in this dark world..
context: I’m running a homebrew campaign right now based loosely on the album Clockwork Angels by Rush. Consequently, in the primary city, the only music to be heard is the faint sound of a clock constantly ticking. Nearly every single time I play this, I reference the opening of Dream Theater’s Metropolis Pt. 2, which starts with the same sound effect. One of my players got the better of me on referencing that album …
Dark Puppeteer: So, I just got this oil of etherealness …
DP: I’m gonna use it on myself, and not my puppet.
Me: … Okay … why?
DP: I’m gonna see if I can retain control of the puppet from the etheral plane.
Me: So you’re gonna try to see if you can still telepathically communicate, basically.