anticlimatic ⋅ 42
Fool and contradiction.
Entries 177
Page 4 of 8
Buyin' on timeeee in anticlimatic
I’d have loved to live a thousand lives. When I was young I was anxious, and although I may be less so now, I still feel compelled to “go to work” on things, mentally, especially new environments...
The sweetest winds they blow across the south. in anticlimatic
My brother graduated high school when I was 21, and the two of us packed up our cars and moved to North Carolina on a whim. I left a good woman behind, family. Mostly I was motivated by a certain...
Deer Camp in anticlimatic
Depressed today. I tend to reach for this site when I’m depressed, in general. I never read my own entries, but I suspect I’d sound a bit like Eeyore from Winnie the Poo if I did. There are days ...
The Man And The Mirror in anticlimatic
Full disclaimer: I am thoroughly uneducated. In fact, antieducated might be a better term, if such a term exists. I attended college for a few years after high school sporadically, and only on s...
Cat Nap in anticlimatic
I’m trying to type around a sleeping cat at the moment. Norah, our Tortie, has been having some extreme anxiety as of late. She’s just a bit of a high strung gal, country girl at heart- maybe not...
Revelations in the Woods in anticlimatic
The lady and I went for a stroll in the woods down by the river at dusk. Another hot late summer evening. Found this flower on the way, a ratty purple one that smelled like the inside of a tire a...
I dreamed I was eternal in anticlimatic
Just had a queer old bit of memory fall into my lap. Some time before adolescence. Just before it. Autumn season, my dad in the kitchen. Or grabbing wood outside. A particular smell that I can’t ...
Another Hot Night in anticlimatic
What a glorious, hot evening. I grew up hating hot evenings, but have come to adore them. Time feels like it slows down to nothing. Warm eternity to float in. I’ve got some country music on the ...
Midnight Rider in anticlimatic
I’ll never get enough of strolling street lit residentials in the towns and cities in which I live. I’ve always done it. It’s as home to me of a thing as a hug from my mom. In the late summer- th...
What I'd Be Without You in anticlimatic
Remember this show? Paul McCartney said that song was the most beautiful song ever written, and it does something for me here. I vaguely remember the plot, having watched it probably over a deca...
A box fan in the window kind of night. in anticlimatic
Went for a midnight bike ride through the neighborhood a moment ago. Tonight is one of those rare, once or twice a summer, hot and humid overnights. Like a piston chamber compressing gas before t...
Something about the shot of the plane... in anticlimatic
I don’t know if it’s the buildings, the angle, the speed of it, the light, the music…but it touches me on such a level. Like, something I know I’ve seen- or felt- sometime before I was born. Some...
It Was A Very Good Year in anticlimatic
I’ve been reminiscing on my 17th year lately. I almost can’t believe it happened. Hard to imagine that world existing at all, though it seems a much saner world. I cannot express what a queer fee...
Drifting Magic in anticlimatic
My connection to things great and mystically lovely continues to deteriorate. I wonder if it is in direct proportion to the amount of responsibility and goals I have accrued in my life at this po...
Do you follow the way of nature, or the way of grace? in anticlimatic
I’d say I’m mostly governed by nature, but I’m not sure one has to choose a path. I think everyone is some degree of both. I wish I had more grace, though I suppose I’ve wished that for a long t...
Chim-Chim! Cheroo! in anticlimatic
I’ve been slowly dismantling my chimney since early July, which runs up the side of my particularly tall house, through the soffit, and up over the western gable- where it has been noticeably cru...
Jazz Hour in anticlimatic
It’s jazz hour on NPR. I can hear it as we speak, on low, coming from the Town Crier Radio in the kitchen. A real slow number- which are usually my favorites. A piano and a muted trumpet maybe, n...
The Nature Of Things in anticlimatic
Childhood felt like a box, in hindsight. Just sort of placed in this small area with the fence of my parents gaze and grab to keep me in it. Often the box moved places– my uncle’s low rickety lea...
Craving in anticlimatic
I am very much wanting something inspiring in a very particular way. I would like something whimsical and magical. Something out of a dream. Or a fresh town in the evening. I love my life, but I ...
Time traveler, by trade in anticlimatic
Drove a road today that exists in a number of different universes in my memory and imagination. People don’t steward things for very long, even though it seems eternal. What’s interesting is that...
Wearing white gloves in anticlimatic
God I love this song. I can’t get over it. It sounds like a cross between Sade, Santo and Johnny, and spring rainstorms…and it’s really caught me in a particular mood. I feel like someone is mis...
Enmity Paradox in anticlimatic
I think it is rare to really dislike someone after you’ve gotten to know them. Which is something you can’t do if you dislike them, as they then repel such endeavors. So it would seem that the ...
Were boomers peak civilization? in anticlimatic
I can’t stop watching this video. There has always been something about the 60s and 70s that dominated my thoughts growing up, and often in adulthood. I think I figured it out. It’s like looking...
Sweet Grass in anticlimatic
Gosh what a beautiful evening. Girlfriend and I took a delightful stroll around town near midnight with our cat Charlotte shadowing us. The smell outside tonight, after this fluke 98 degree day i...
One last thought of winter in anticlimatic
Just had an interesting burst of memory. The downstairs bedroom of my grandparents house when I was a kid, in the dark, with a smell of winter and old potpourri. The walls smelled too, I think. T...
