sacrificial pen pusher
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: blood, flashpo, ink, splatter
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March 23rd, 2008 at 8:29 am
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)
March 23rd, 2008 at 4:13 pm
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
March 24th, 2008 at 8:01 pm
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
……
April 16th, 2008 at 6:43 pm
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April 17th, 2008 at 5:33 am
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