5

Little tidbits of writing plus a quick watercolor of a horseee! Yay!

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Cut your hair, little girl; gather the clippings in your palms. Breathe in these sharp fragrant strands. Feel the tickle in your esophagus.

Take a step back, little girl; throw your hands up like confetti. Let your fingers kiss that empty space that hangs above your head with such devotion, such loyalty. Tell it, thank you, thank you – I can always count on you.

Do not mention that night in the crawlspace, your head brushing against the ceiling, no space in between. You have already forgiven it for that instance of abandonment.

(Forgiveness, forgiveness – little girl, you must believe in remorse and redemption).

Emptiness, he is your only friend, floating above like a personal rain cloud.

Little girl, can’t you feel the bleakest corners creeping in? The dark horses gallop to the foot of your bed; they scrape their hooves on the walls of your dreams and they wait, wait, wait.

Little girl, won’t you let them in?

4

So, though Eliot will be the one who will be uploading more of the arts and I will be posting more snippets of writing, here is a bit of a foray into watercolor from me.

Elephant + part of a children's story that I am not working on (it's just a sample page).

Yay for watercoloring like a child! I'm so excited.

3.

So, this is to show that Eliot is actually here. I'm very lazy. Thank you Felix for kickstarting this blog. Felix is the more wordy of us two, and I bumble quite a lot with words. I prefer to draw things, even if i am not very good at it.

Without further ado, here is one of my summer habits:



Crude, i know. I'm a bum. bum bum bum!

five minute poetry

I snuck away from work and sat down to write some five minute poetry instead.

Here is "Mice, Mice" (a poem written at 4:30 p.m. in the study area of the library).

Darkening – the sound of mice against
The hardwood floor of your childhood, and
This great gasp of space,
Nervous feet against moonlit flesh,
The pattering, the brushing, the
Squeak squeak squeak!
You say –
Come here, little creature.
Let me give you a home.

xxx

In the pantry,
Spoons compete with scattered oatmeal dust.
Grit against your tongue,
Metal on your lip.
Your midnight visitor is nowhere to be found.

xxx

When the shadows fall, you will:
Tape the traps to the posts of your bed,
Lay the crumbs on your pillow,
And wait to touch
Soft fur once more.

1

Hello!

Testing, testing.

I think it is high time we start using this little bloggle, so Eliot, darling, I hope you don't mind if I write the first entry here. It can be a pilot first entry, if you want -- we'll fill it with something better when we think of something.

I am Felix Little -- the other contributor to this blog shall be Eliot Small. We are two little critters peeking out from behind computer monitors; we spend our lives planning to create spectacular projects that are rarely actually realized.

I believe that with this blog, we wanted to expose our neuroses and share our works.

So right! Hello, hello. Welcome to The Habits of Stable Unstable People. (We are the stables and unstables, in case you did not figure that out.)