#old ink

[chaoticneutralbae]

"Because you're spineless and too much to take - my kindness was a big mistake, and it gets me nowhere."

[sparklehoard]

My grandma gave me her old ink from the families treasure shelves. They dont have any dates on them.

[deerslug]

Rest in peace GK

[fxrelord]

2 days vs. 11 month

[tonantzin-ar]

Inktober #9

[starrynightstarz]

[kslsrsc]

Old ink is often acidic, and can leave brown stains on the paper it touches. In this case, however, the ink actually protected a portion of the page! This copy of Brown’s History of the American Stage has a number of newspaper clippings pasted into it by the previous owner. In the photo above, the newsprint on the left has created brown acid stains on the page at right. The ink from the handwritten dates created small areas of protection, and ghostly versions of the dates are clearly visible in the upper margin of the page. The book is available in Kelvin Smith Library’s Special Collections.

[chaos-redux]

DINER

Dingy sign flashing red and white ‘cause the town drunk got hold of my cousin’s gun and shot out the second and third letters before someone tackled him to the ground.

 Inside the people congregate at midnight.  Coffee grounds line the bottoms of their cups and nobody minds ‘cause that’s just what happens every night.  We are the

 Nocturnal people.  No, not like some goddamn vampires or werewolves or all that nonsense.  We are the writers and blocked artists.  The strange walkers of night, viewing it as a creative environment of endless noise and quiet.  In short, we are the introvert insomniacs, choosing

 Eternal loneliness, choosing to be trapped forever in our own thoughts along with the putrid scent of greasy French fries mingled with over easy, underdone eggs.  And somehow, we survive that way, until the dream comes along, that girl with the dirty blonde hair whom we have only imagined, captured in the way only a tortured artist can.

 Ricky, my cousin with the gun, shot himself because he couldn’t find a new vision after he fell in love.  Tortured artist ‘til the last.  We choose this life.

  written circa 2012

xxx SirPup Kingston