• this is
    home
  • what is
    deepsicks
  • who is
    meg holle
  • explore the
    archive
  • haunt the
    graveyard
  • sometimes i
    make art
  • what else
    is there
Archives for posts with tag: found text
« Older Entries

love is hell

January 24, 13 //
1
Shouts
found text

Love is me.

1
 comments
 

oh my.

January 21, 13 //
0
Photography
found text, oh noes

0
 comments
 

murder, before I die

January 6, 13 //
0
Photography
found text, street art

Peeled myself from my computer chair to track down the South Minneapolis Murder that the past two weeks has tempted me to crash on my evening commute through the gloaming.

This cheery afternoon the crows are nowhere to be found, but I make the best of laced boots and prowl my old ‘hood.

I’ve always loved the west side of Joe’s Chicken Shack.

HOTTEA(-esque?) yarn lacing the fence.

The silly, sad, wonderful things we want before we die.

I liked the murder on facebook. Next time I’ll be ready.

0
 comments
 

concrete christmas

December 20, 12 //
0
Shouts
found text

Have a happy one!

0
 comments
 

to the victor go the spoilage

November 23, 12 //
0
Photography
found text, garbage

0
 comments
 

book club with grandpa

September 16, 12 //
0
Narratives, Photography
books, family, found text

I was in a book club this summer with my grandpa. He picked Moby Dick. I didn’t have a say in it but hey, this was cool. As an English major, I am long overdue for Ahab’s white whale obsession.

Grandpa wrote his name in it.

Underlined poignancy, made notes here and there.

Then he forgot about it. Put it on a shelf and went to a war and had a pile of kids and farmed up food. Moby Dick moved over the years to other shelves in different rooms to a box of books in a brimming closet, leapfrogging decades and cities till I dug it out.

All summer I consumed dense pages, wondering if like me he read passages aloud to feel the shape of words flow out his mouth. I liked it for the most part—the waves and wind and weird literary devices—though it did get long.

Be honest—how much whale physiology and sea creature taxonomy and byzantine descriptions of a whaling ship’s rigging did you skim or skip completely? Your notes got scarce then, and I don’t blame a bit.

I wish there were more of them, turning each page hoping he would be there to hint what he was thinking. To tell me something about himself or the world—what he figured out of it.

I went to his funeral in the womb.

Would’ve liked to book club Goodnight Moon.

This will have to do.

0
 comments
 
« Older Entries
  • brave empire

    • Death Reference Desk
    • Meg Holle, Librarian
    • The Author Is Dead
    • You Are Not Dead
  • buy product

  • browse tags

    adventures america angst arkytechture art biking books dancing deepsicks fake family fargo found text garbage halloween hilarity holledays home hotelandia industrial bones internets journeys joy libraries minneapolis music now + zen oh noes politics rants sad face satan school shows skating st. paul street art swoons the vault U of M vancouver victoria whoa writing you are not dead zombies
Wu Wei by Jeff Ngan, modified by Meg Holle.
Copyright 2002 - 2013 by Meg Holle.
to the top