Lint seems to be everywhere in a laundry room. It gets stuck in the vent that leads to the outside of the house. The dryer has lint on top of it from when you empty the lint trap. I use a Bounce sheet to clean the lint trap and that helps.
His lip curled as he pulled the ball of lint from his pocket. “Nothing but the best in town, huh? And yet, they still have this garbage.” He grumbled, tossing it away.
“Are you really griping about the lint in your suit on a day like this?
My sweater left some lint all over his shoulder. We were cuddling and it just happened. As always. He cannot stand it, but I know he likes it. He likes everything that is connected with me.
Picking the lint out of her bellybutton was just part of our nightly ritual. Make tea, brush teeth, get undressed, pick out lint, lay down… warm and together, and full of love, the same old ritual stayed fresh and new… unlike the tea that grew cold when we fell asleep too early.
“Oh how I hate all the lint that comes off my clothes after I fetch them from the dryer, it is so annoying.” “I wish lint wasn’t a real thing.” She whispered to herself.
SpLINTered underneath her gaudy resolve, her loneliness ached. “Silence is good,” she whispered as the chilled air caught her breath. She closed her eyes against the solitude of it.
“Lint.”
“Huh.” He looks up slowly from his shrunken in position.
“We need lint.”
He sighs, hugging himself harder, “Don’t you have some? I don’t want to move.”
“Then you won’t start a fire.”
(entry for parking, 9.17.16. This idea wouldn’t go away so I figured I would write it anyway, oops again)
“Okay, good, doing good, now just slowly start to back up and–brake brake BRAKE BRAKEBRAKEBRAKE–”
A dull thump echoed from the rear bumper, and Carly winced as a frustrated cry echoed from the dull green Toyota.
“Why is this at all necessary?! What proof is needed that I’m ‘safe to drive’?! I’m a Cybertronian, an Autobot even, for Primus’ sake! I’ve been driving almost my entire existence! What is there to question?!”
As she opened the passenger door to retrieve the fallen cone, Carly decided it might not have been the best plan to take Brawn with her to the BMV.
the pockets were turned out before I put the jeans in the wash, a few dollars, a used up Kleenex and lint. there was some lipstick in the other pocket with a used up Kleenex.
(for yesterday’s onward. meant to write it in school but forgot, oops)
“Do you think we’ll ever get home?”
The sudden question had broken the thin sheet of silence that lay draped across the dead volcano. The desert flat below was a warm, dull color, the color of sun-baked sand.
He turned, brows furrowing in the orange light of the low, heating sun.
Bluestreak’s face was a myriad of emotions, ranging from uncertain to anxious. The most prevalent one, however, was a distinct trepidation that left his tanks roiling with a sinking sensation.
Blustreak’s doorwings drooped faintly as he averted his gaze from the rising sun, meeting the other’s optics dead on.
“Is there even a chance?”
He sighed and shifted his stance, considering the question. His answer came with a degree of certainty such that he surprised himself.
“Of course, Bluestreak. There’s always a chance that we’ll get home so long as we don’t give up.”
A moment of silence passed, and Bluestreak tilted his helm slightly, returning his gaze to the spectacle of the sun.
“That makes sense. Thanks, Springer.”
The rest of their morning routine was a comfortable silence.
Of all the places I thought I would find lint, in my ear was not one of them. I had been living with lint in my ear for a decade now, and no one had bothered to tell me. That is until I met my sister’s next husband, Randy.
My pocket was full. Reaching down to undo the button holding its latch, I couldn’t help but notice that despite its bulging exterior, very little weight was actually pulling on the leg of my pants.
Upon digging my hand into its interior, I felt a soft bundle, and withdrew the object to peer at it as it rested in my palms.
It was a very large ball of lint.
She stood on the sidewalk unable to believe what just happened. The numbness of shock flowed over her body like a wave. She barely noticed when the rain started, or that people were rushing past to seek shelter – their fight or flight response evidently in tact. They still cared – whether their clothes or their bodies were wet, where they were going, who they saw. But there she stood, unable to feel. She was nothing – she didn’t matter. She was useless – to be casually dismissed and discarded. A human piece of lint – easy to cast aside.
The dryer buzzed to a stop and she hopped off the table to empty it. The clothes were warm. She held them to her face and breathed in. And again. She coughed and removed a tiny ball of lint from her mouth.
lint is usually used in making cloth as it becomes the cloth more comfortable and simple too. Besides, it can be used to make a bandage to cover a wound.
He tried to brush the lint off his coat but when he stepped out into the hallway, in the brighter light, he could still see pieces of fluff on his coat. He retreated to his study and got out a roll of scotch tape and started to pick off the lint. Marybell caught him in the act – she later said that he looked very stately and dignified except for all the pieces of tape stuck on his coat.
The coat she was wearing flowed beautifully down to her knees. In a deep, dark blue wool, it fit her perfectly. She looked sublime. Up until you look closer that is, as the coat was full of lint.
I searched the pockets of my jeans for cash, but all I found was lint and a paper clip from God knows what office job I used to have. So instead of taking the bus home, I had to call my uncle – the great wise boozehound he was – and see if he was sober enough to pick me up.
“Pick you up?” he gurgled over the phone. “I thought I gave you bus fare!”
Lint balls crowd on her jacket. Some are large and some are smaller. The cloth smells of mangoes and morning dew; it’s a strange, uncanny concoction to fit a strange person. He likes it, though. It’s just like her.
Maybe your name is just lint in my pocket that doesn’t get removed ’cause the dryer is too full. And I guess that you could just be a face sitting in the foam of my third cappuccino today.
Perhaps you’re just another scar that won’t have the time to fade in this life.
in the dryer, there is always lint. when it has been a good week, there are pieces of sticks and grass stuck in it. that means that i have spent time outside, breathed in fresh air, felt the weight melt away from my shoulders.
Lint seems to be everywhere in a laundry room. It gets stuck in the vent that leads to the outside of the house. The dryer has lint on top of it from when you empty the lint trap. I use a Bounce sheet to clean the lint trap and that helps.
You lived in my heart’s pocket like a tiny piece of lint,
a fragment of small dirt, who couldn’t take the hint.
You lived on my soul, like a small parasite,
who would do anything to dim my star, shining bright.
You lived in me, like a minor broken bone,
and this is exactly why I had to reclaim my home.
His lip curled as he pulled the ball of lint from his pocket. “Nothing but the best in town, huh? And yet, they still have this garbage.” He grumbled, tossing it away.
“Are you really griping about the lint in your suit on a day like this?
My sweater left some lint all over his shoulder. We were cuddling and it just happened. As always. He cannot stand it, but I know he likes it. He likes everything that is connected with me.
Picking the lint out of her bellybutton was just part of our nightly ritual. Make tea, brush teeth, get undressed, pick out lint, lay down… warm and together, and full of love, the same old ritual stayed fresh and new… unlike the tea that grew cold when we fell asleep too early.
“Oh how I hate all the lint that comes off my clothes after I fetch them from the dryer, it is so annoying.” “I wish lint wasn’t a real thing.” She whispered to herself.
“Lint.”
“Huh.” He looks up slowly from his shrunken in position.
“We need lint.”
He sighs, hugging himself harder, “Don’t you have some? I don’t want to move.”
“Then you won’t start a fire.”
SpLINTered underneath her gaudy resolve, her loneliness ached. “Silence is good,” she whispered as the chilled air caught her breath. She closed her eyes against the solitude of it.
Hisoka picked the lint from his shirt as he listened to his father talk.
“Hisoka are you even listening?”his father, Chuck , groaned.
“Yes dad, I’m listening.”he rolled his eyes as his father continued with his boring lecture.
“Lint.”
“Huh.” He looks up slowly from his shrunken in position.
“We need lint.”
He sighs, hugging himself harder, “Don’t you have some? I don’t want to move.”
“Then you won’t start a fire.”
the stuff that comes out of your belly button and your clothes
Lint gets stuck to your clothes, is very flammable and can be found in your dryer.
whenever there is lint around, i’ll end up sneezing .You clean it and one week after it’s already back ,I don’t get it!
(entry for parking, 9.17.16. This idea wouldn’t go away so I figured I would write it anyway, oops again)
“Okay, good, doing good, now just slowly start to back up and–brake brake BRAKE BRAKEBRAKEBRAKE–”
A dull thump echoed from the rear bumper, and Carly winced as a frustrated cry echoed from the dull green Toyota.
“Why is this at all necessary?! What proof is needed that I’m ‘safe to drive’?! I’m a Cybertronian, an Autobot even, for Primus’ sake! I’ve been driving almost my entire existence! What is there to question?!”
As she opened the passenger door to retrieve the fallen cone, Carly decided it might not have been the best plan to take Brawn with her to the BMV.
the pockets were turned out before I put the jeans in the wash, a few dollars, a used up Kleenex and lint. there was some lipstick in the other pocket with a used up Kleenex.
(for yesterday’s onward. meant to write it in school but forgot, oops)
“Do you think we’ll ever get home?”
The sudden question had broken the thin sheet of silence that lay draped across the dead volcano. The desert flat below was a warm, dull color, the color of sun-baked sand.
He turned, brows furrowing in the orange light of the low, heating sun.
Bluestreak’s face was a myriad of emotions, ranging from uncertain to anxious. The most prevalent one, however, was a distinct trepidation that left his tanks roiling with a sinking sensation.
Blustreak’s doorwings drooped faintly as he averted his gaze from the rising sun, meeting the other’s optics dead on.
“Is there even a chance?”
He sighed and shifted his stance, considering the question. His answer came with a degree of certainty such that he surprised himself.
“Of course, Bluestreak. There’s always a chance that we’ll get home so long as we don’t give up.”
A moment of silence passed, and Bluestreak tilted his helm slightly, returning his gaze to the spectacle of the sun.
“That makes sense. Thanks, Springer.”
The rest of their morning routine was a comfortable silence.
Of all the places I thought I would find lint, in my ear was not one of them. I had been living with lint in my ear for a decade now, and no one had bothered to tell me. That is until I met my sister’s next husband, Randy.
My pocket was full. Reaching down to undo the button holding its latch, I couldn’t help but notice that despite its bulging exterior, very little weight was actually pulling on the leg of my pants.
Upon digging my hand into its interior, I felt a soft bundle, and withdrew the object to peer at it as it rested in my palms.
It was a very large ball of lint.
she put this tissue looking stuff in the dryer and i asked what it was and she said lint!!!!
he had i pieace of lint on his shirt!!!! He did not know!!!!
i on lowed the drier and got out the beggist ball of lint i ever saw in my life
We were like a wash cycle.
The end of our relationship like a dryer, sucking every bit of moisture out of the fabric of our love.
It’s been years and I’m still picking the lint off me.
As she opened the dryer she noticed there was to much lint and had to empty it.
She stood on the sidewalk unable to believe what just happened. The numbness of shock flowed over her body like a wave. She barely noticed when the rain started, or that people were rushing past to seek shelter – their fight or flight response evidently in tact. They still cared – whether their clothes or their bodies were wet, where they were going, who they saw. But there she stood, unable to feel. She was nothing – she didn’t matter. She was useless – to be casually dismissed and discarded. A human piece of lint – easy to cast aside.
The dryer buzzed to a stop and she hopped off the table to empty it. The clothes were warm. She held them to her face and breathed in. And again. She coughed and removed a tiny ball of lint from her mouth.
lint is usually used in making cloth as it becomes the cloth more comfortable and simple too. Besides, it can be used to make a bandage to cover a wound.
[Boku no jinsokuna uta, Jukuko o tanoshimi kudasai.]
Mortal reminder
from us to ourselves
balls of dusty LINT
Falling winter’s night
slow steady flow of decay
shedding human skin
[Oyasumi Nasai]
1lint = Leaving Initial Node Tangently
He tried to brush the lint off his coat but when he stepped out into the hallway, in the brighter light, he could still see pieces of fluff on his coat. He retreated to his study and got out a roll of scotch tape and started to pick off the lint. Marybell caught him in the act – she later said that he looked very stately and dignified except for all the pieces of tape stuck on his coat.
[entry for onward of yesterday]
Summer day’s shower
life bursts forth, wans to nothing
Time will go ONWARD
[next is lint.]
The coat she was wearing flowed beautifully down to her knees. In a deep, dark blue wool, it fit her perfectly. She looked sublime. Up until you look closer that is, as the coat was full of lint.
Fuzzy memories snuggled underneath my brain.
Hiding under everything, clinging to the underbelly of my life, swept away in a moment, as if it never existed.
I searched the pockets of my jeans for cash, but all I found was lint and a paper clip from God knows what office job I used to have. So instead of taking the bus home, I had to call my uncle – the great wise boozehound he was – and see if he was sober enough to pick me up.
“Pick you up?” he gurgled over the phone. “I thought I gave you bus fare!”
“For one trip. It wasn’t enough to get me back.”
It’s in the air that passes between us: the lint, the words, the empty eyes, all of it in the open orbiting.
We’ll always be worlds apart. There’s nothing, not even glue, for people like me and you.
Lint balls crowd on her jacket. Some are large and some are smaller. The cloth smells of mangoes and morning dew; it’s a strange, uncanny concoction to fit a strange person. He likes it, though. It’s just like her.
Maybe your name is just lint in my pocket that doesn’t get removed ’cause the dryer is too full. And I guess that you could just be a face sitting in the foam of my third cappuccino today.
Perhaps you’re just another scar that won’t have the time to fade in this life.
One time I had a piece of lint in my eye and I couldn’t get it out. So I cried and then I got it out. Moral of the story is; crying is good.
Makeup is reapplied, lint rollers are re-rolled, and string is cut from the inside of a sock.
in the dryer, there is always lint. when it has been a good week, there are pieces of sticks and grass stuck in it. that means that i have spent time outside, breathed in fresh air, felt the weight melt away from my shoulders.