saoirses other aes blog

a different kind of aes | main blog: @harmingbird

[sixpenceee]

[gay-440]

Musician Aesthetic; Seasons

Fall:

seeing your ensemble friends again

buying new pencils and new manuscript paper

whispered celebrations as the director reads out the program for this season

the smell of fresh sheet music

Winter:

wrapping your instrument up before you put it away

hot chocolate and procrastinating

groggy practice before the sun comes up

walking home from rehearsals in the dark

how nothing echoes in fresh snow

Spring:

calluses 

trying to keep your sheet music dry

bothering your friends in their practice rooms

“You’re gonna kill your exam!”

concert black and good posture

Summer:

practicing in the woods

busking with friends and getting ice cream

folk festivals in the forest, all rivers and sunburns and seas of tents

jamming around campfires

dancing barefoot in dry grass

jazzfest in the city, warm rain and overpriced beer, tourists clapping on 1 and 3

[twilitroses]

me walking into a cvs at midnight: i need to lift a curse

employee: aisle 5

me: thanks

[i-wildest-dreams]

[parasomnico-deactivated20210304]

Pokopokoshopping

[dsxsbx]

[1041uuu]

[celestialphotography]

Autumn in Michigan: The road to the cabin.

[0h-my-deer]

[konora]

Las Vegas gothic

The light never stops. Everywhere you go, it is bright and you cannot sleep. You buy blackout curtains, and it doesn’t help. The orange glow of street lamps is unceasing. You board up the windows. Still, the light finds its way in. 

“So where do you live?” You’ve been asked this so many times you start to wonder. You thought you lived in a house - but could you really have lived in an underground complex beneath the Strip this whole time? You look at the face of this tourist, blurred white in the bright sun, and you decide that it’s true. It’s better to not argue. 

You try to warn them. “Don’t go inside,” you tell them, because you know, because you can’t stop them from following the lights inside.

There are no clocks. Everywhere you look, it is always dusk and twilight, and there are no clocks. Your cellphone won’t work and you cannot find your way outside. You don’t know how long you’ve been lost, because there are no clocks no night no day

No matter how many times the A/C units scrub the air, they cannot quite get the smell of stale tobacco out. When you go home, it’s there, clinging to your clothes and your hair and your skin and it will not leave no matter how much you scrub.

That old woman has been playing video poker at Albertson’s for as long as you can remember. She looks about 90, with her oxygen tank beside her, and she’s there every time you go to the store, day or night. She’s been there since you were a child. The stool she’s perched on is slumped and caked in dust. One time you looked too closely, and saw the dust coating her lap, her glasses, and the thick layer over her oxygen tank. You stopped going to Albertson’s. Sav-on is no better, but they don’t know you there.

No one swims in Lake Mead. There aren’t any signs prohibiting it… but everyone knows about the dead beneath the thick, green surface - the skeletons and the flooded towns and crashed military planes and the turbines that will pull you in and use your blood and bones to power the lights.

[pinkrangerv]

Nevada Gothic

*The playground looks very nice. It is clean and colorful and well-thought-out. No one goes there but the jackrabbits.

*A new company is moving into the area. The local councils fall all over themselves providing whatever might be needed. No one mentions that the first day of work is the last day the workers are seen.

*The popping noise at night is just someone target-shooting. You try not to think about what’s being used as targets.

*We’re very proud of our town. Where do we get the water? It doesn’t matter. We’re very proud of our town.

*As you drive through endless stretches of highway, you occasionally see an onion farm. The wind rustles through the stalks. You don’t think it sounds like someone pleading for help at all.

*Everyone laughs at the local ghost stories. Only the local Native American tribes know enough to keep their silence. You’re new here, don’t you want to see the most haunted city in America?

*A healthy teenager went into an abandoned mine. When they recovered his body, they couldn’t find a cause of death.

*It’s wonderful how involved the city’s council is. Why, almost everything is sponsored by them…

*Your high school reunion is coming up in a week. You aren’t going. Getting out once was enough.

*The neighbor’s dogs always seem oddly well-fed. You never see them except at night. They have very bright eyes.

[dilf-enthusiast-deactivated2017]

Southwestern Gothic

Everyone hears about lights in the desert but they’re not just in the sky. They’re the lights in the corner of your eyes when you’re out camping, that disappear when you swing your flashlight beam over

Miles and miles of scrub land as you drive your car faster and faster along the two lane highway. Why are there lane lines if there are no other cars? Have there been other cars? When did you start driving today? How far have you made it? Can you be sure your odometer has changed since you last looked?

Each summer seems to be hotter and start sooner. Every year you say it’s starting earlier than last year? When will the summer simply never end?

Coyotes yipping outside your window but you can’t see them. Is it really coyotes, or something that’s learned to mimic?

Road signs that have faded so badly you can’t tell where they lead, but you’re sure you’ve never seen that turn off on this highway before

During the day time stories of the chupacabra are silly, silly, silly, until dusk is falling and you’re outside and there might be something in the bushes behind you but it might be nothing. Silly silly stories

Neon signs along the road flickering to drivers like sirens, flickering just off a highway exit that isn’t there. Flickering remnants of modern ghost towns

Graffitied Virgin Mary watching you as you walk past her on a deserted city street, a shiver running down your spine

Cookie cutter houses in a cookie cutter neighborhood after you dropped your friend off. Was it right, right, left to get out? Or right, left, right? How many Ocotillo Trails are in this neighborhood? Why isn’t there anyone in their driveways so you can ask? How many rights have you taken in this cookie cutter neighborhood with its beige cookie cutter houses?

That gas station has been closed for as long as you know, fenced off, delapidated, but there’s something moving around behind the muddied windows

Another haboob, bigger than the last. As it beats againt your glass there are dark shapes in the swirling sand, something always swooping away before you can define it

[shanemaxwell-blog-deactivated20]

I found this copy of Thoreau’s Walden buried in the park.  I opened it and saw these roots growing between the pages. I don’t know whether to frame it or put it back in the ground.

[abandoned-vilesbodies-blog]

houses -  haunted places [3/5]

abandoned by family after family until it was left in ruin the house is overgrown and rotting when you stumble upon it… fading wallpaper scratched by years of wind and rain or maybe… just maybe something darker lurks in the old house that might explain the wailing that grows as you tentatively approach… the foundations themselves seem to groan urging you away or maybe luring you in…

[abandoned-vilesbodies-blog]

graveyards -  haunted places [2/5]

old bones don’t rest so easy as you creep through the overgrown graves in the cold night, rusting iron gates creak and shudder in the wind… you’re out far too late and this place is the preserve of the dead but you are sure that there are footsteps on the path behind you… better pick up your pace or you might find yourself resting here all too soon…

[the-meggo]

Maryland Gothic

Your house was built in 1920. It has been marked historic. It will now stand here untouched until the end of time. The bridge has been marked historic. It was built in 1930. No one is allowed to drive on it. Your neighbor’s fence has been marked historic. He built it three years ago. You go to church. The church falls down. It was built in 2005. No one will clear the rubble to save you. It has been marked historic. 

You get in your dinghy. You motor to town. You tie up your dinghy at the docks. You buy your government mandated industrial carton of Old Bay and Old Bay seasoned UTZ chips at the Royal Farms. You can’t remember the taste of water. You don’t remember sunlight. There is only Old Bay. 

You are on a mountain. The fog is too thick to see the road in front of you. You wait for it to clear. You drive until you reach a town below sea level. The fog is still here. It has followed you. 

Your friend from out of state asks if you want to go swimming in the Bay. You say no. You’ll be too busy contacting their next of kin.  

You are driving. The DC NPR station signal is growing weaker. You are not yet in range of the Baltimore NPR station. The signal is growing fainter. Fainter. Fainter. You flip between the static of both stations. Nothing. You are trapped. You pass a road sign that reads: New Market. Your flesh melts from your bones as Rush Limbaugh comes in loud and clear. 

You sailed your preposterously large yacht into Ego Alley. All eyes are upon you. You approach the dead end docks. The tourists look on in confusion. The dockside bar patrons begin to take bets. It is time to turn around and motor your way out. There is no space left. You cannot turn. You are stuck. The harbor patrol calls the Tugboat Of Shame. In the end, your body is strung up with the others. 

You are in Severna park. A woman approaches you. In one hand she holds a field hockey stick. In her other hand, a lacrosse stick. You must chose. You do not know how to play lacrosse. You do not know how to play field hockey. With a heavy heart, you say, “I don’t play sports.” The woman smiles.  She brandishes the lacrosse stick. You close your eyes. You feel your nose break. You see your own blood staining your Sperrys. You do not resist. It is your own fault for entering Severna Park without the proper training. 

The stink bugs are here. The stink bugs are here. The stink bugs are here. Ț̠̠̻̤́̍̅͊̑ͧ̊h̍̏͊ͤe̻ͬ͋̽ͤ ͖̦̼̣̰̝͙s̮̬̦̜͌ͭ̍͋͒̔ť̫̲̞͖̈́̅ȉ͉̓͌̈͌n̤̩̭̲ͣ̔ͧ̿k̲̝͓̠͓̥̙ͥͤ ̣̺̤̻ͩ̊̅̍̄ͯb̠̈́́͊̈́͗u̜̭̔͑̚g̘͎̼̪̳͌̍̅ͥ̋ͅsͨ́ ̒͛͌̂ͫ̾ă̬̣̹̲̠̠̘̋̇͊̋r͈͈͓͆͊ͯͧ̎ͯ̈́ě̯̒̓ͩͥ̽ͥ ̠ͭͦ̉h̬̘͓̉͆̋ͤ̚ë̻̟͉̊r̤͙̱̠̝̮͇ͬ́̋̿̄e͕̯̯͔͈.ͫͩ

[philcollinstarzan]

georgia gothic

• it was snowing yesterday. the trees are on fire today. it was raining five minutes ago. you can’t remember your name.

• you can’t find the place footloose remake was filmed, even though you live right by it. it was just there. the locals see you and go inside.

• your neighbor waves to you as you drive by. your neighbor waves to you as you drive by. your neighbor waves and waves and waves.

• you’ve been in traffic for an hour. three days. a week. the road opens up and swallows cars whole. you can’t see.

• a mosquito bites you. you look down and the bite is as big as your hand. you look away and back again and it’s gone.

• the old baptist church on the corner is gone. you don’t remember it ever being there. nobody talks about it.

• your friend says “meet me at the waffle house”. you forget to ask which one. it doesn’t matter.

• you read a bumper sticker. “I love Jesus”. there’s another one. and another one. the whole car is “I love Jesus” bumper stickers.

• a woman smiles while saying “I’ll pray for you”. the smile is stretched too wide. her teeth are too sharp. you don’t think she’ll be praying.

• a northerner comes down to visit the coca cola factory. they burst into flames on arrival. an old man appears. “god damn yankees”