#ariel m

[curseddoom]

@arielmaximoff

Natalya wandered the labyrinthian hallways of her new school, gaze frantically sweeping over the crowd in search of any familiar face. Even with her six years of freedom, she’d barely ventured outside her mother’s home, and this was still all too foreign to her. She needed help, and she knew it. So when she finally spotted her cousin, she quickly darted through the sea of students, latching onto her arm with a grip that screamed panic.

[allmusic]

AllMusic Staff Pick: Aerial M Aerial M

Slint member David Pajo's 1997 debut under the solo moniker Aerial M merged his slow-moving and obtusely angled approach to songwriting with the focus on texture that was happening in Chicago's post rock circles in the late '90s. The entirely instrumental album is a cryptic roadmap of unexpected sounds, ambling through odd time signatures, bucolic guitar figures, blurts of spacy organ, and other subtle ambient touches.

- Fred Thomas

[thepassengertimes]

Music* Billy Corgan – Mina Loy (M.O.H.) / Photography* Bruce Davidson – Brooklyn Gang Music & Visions - projects selected by Massimo Di Roma + ThePT This music piece is part of the weekly…

[thepulp-ahs-blog]

We Find Poetry in Everything 

Wine stained lips and fingertips 

Broken bones

Tear tracks on muddy cheeks 

Leaves that shatter like cracked glass

Your audible heart beat under the chill of the stars

Words spewed in hatred 

Cracked lips and cracked sidewalks 

A crowd so large and united it becomes a single entity 

Scribbled notes revealing heartbreak 

Lipstick on collars 

My lips pressed onto yours with a passion 

so strong it overwhelms us both 

Protesters deafening the officers shouts

Your fingertips grazed hers and you didn’t pull back

Eyes mimicking the ocean so blue and so deep I fear drowning in them

Shouts so loud the neighbors complain

Photographs in which we are laughing

Sun drenched rooms 

Shadows

Dancing by yourself because your soul won’t sit still

The smell of him on every piece of clothing you own

Writing until your heart bleeds clear

A new leaf

Rotting bodies 

Cemeteries and forests teeming with rebirth

ARIEL M

[thepulp-ahs-blog]

We Are the Open Ocean 

I am the open ocean I am filled to the brim with excitement I am uncovered depths And hidden species.

We are the dried up glue in kindergarten classrooms Forgotten art projects because we are forced to grow up younger and younger.

You are the science teacher’s smile As she watches her class light up with understanding Their eyes bright with accomplishment.

You are determination and pride personified and you will pound on the student’s desks until they shout the answer you knew they had stored in their growing brain.

They are clichés of teenage adolescence Walking down their suburban sidewalks like runways Because no other person listens like the cracks in the sidewalk do.

And when they cry their tears are fueled by us telling them every single thing they do has been done before, has been said before, has been thought before.

The science teacher tells us that our water is older than the dinosaurs themselves, recycled since the beginning of time, so those tears aren’t even our own, just borrowed liquid for the survival of the organism.

But we are the open ocean. We are sunflowers stretching tall, beaming because in our existence is pure happiness. We are watercolor paintings with worn brushes and brilliant ideas.

We are the ocean. We are vast. We are strong. We shape continents. We hold up ships. And we hold the beginning of life itself.

ARIEL M