oh my god I just discovered this!!! them! Thank you internet!!! Who knew craigslist would throw me down a rabbit hole to come out with these monkeys?
PS want Roy Orbison's glasses
We'll bury 'em?
It's the night before Christmass and as a token of gratitude and love, I would like to share a mantra of my very own making that will hopefully bestow magnificent wonders upon you.
Take a moment and picture me at the ripe age of 16, it's the end of the school year and the hard work is about to pay off. That extra Spanish class I added to my schedule a full two years prior? It was all for this: a week-long trip to Málaga and the Costa del Sol (or, as my cheap souvenir towel says, Costa de Sol).
The group gathered to reap the benefits of our high school's notorious end-of-year Spain trip, was also the group that had the officials back home call the whole thing off for future generations of would-be revelers. Though I can't take full responsibility, it's hard to deny that letting a bevvy of American teenagers loose in a European resort town (and it's environs) is asking for some measure of trouble.
I digress.
I also love catchy, impactful, succinct lines.
And as we're toasting the night of San Juan festival, our very near states of blissful intoxication, and the beach bar we're overy impressed and excited with, I blurt out a most satisfying soliloquy which has accompanied my celebrations ever since.
This Christmass, I share it in the hopes that my simple mantra will improve the lives of all who allow it reign over their raised glasses, their elevated spirits:
Good luck, success, good sex
If this trifecta could work its magic in more lives, I think we'd be that much closer to world peace.
XXX
Moi
Take a moment and picture me at the ripe age of 16, it's the end of the school year and the hard work is about to pay off. That extra Spanish class I added to my schedule a full two years prior? It was all for this: a week-long trip to Málaga and the Costa del Sol (or, as my cheap souvenir towel says, Costa de Sol).
The group gathered to reap the benefits of our high school's notorious end-of-year Spain trip, was also the group that had the officials back home call the whole thing off for future generations of would-be revelers. Though I can't take full responsibility, it's hard to deny that letting a bevvy of American teenagers loose in a European resort town (and it's environs) is asking for some measure of trouble.
I digress.
I also love catchy, impactful, succinct lines.
And as we're toasting the night of San Juan festival, our very near states of blissful intoxication, and the beach bar we're overy impressed and excited with, I blurt out a most satisfying soliloquy which has accompanied my celebrations ever since.
This Christmass, I share it in the hopes that my simple mantra will improve the lives of all who allow it reign over their raised glasses, their elevated spirits:
Good luck, success, good sex
If this trifecta could work its magic in more lives, I think we'd be that much closer to world peace.
XXX
Moi
For the trains, planes, and automobiles
that take us to our dreams
along the way,
this is for you
for the whizzing sunsets and blink-n-miss it pastures
for the comfort of being in someone else's hands
signed, sealed and
delivered
remember that 15-hour stretch
chugging over borders
provinces, regions
the change was subtle
I'd look up from my book to make sure I didn't miss it
they still had smoking cars then
and the Pyrenees were gorgeous
on to that dark ride
sent off alone and young in the middle of the night
a little scared a little sad
but you had the sleeper all to yourself
and so you wrote and wrote about missing home
at least you knew what it was you were missing
between the capital and the city of your summers
courtyard echoing in games and giggles
someone who loved you would be waiting when you arrived
or that time, cuddled against your father
reluctant to be without your mother
yet when the train stopped dead in its tracks
you were glad he was there to have your back
nervous stillness, "why aren't we moving?"
it was late then too
and the countryside didn't offer any light
wondering, where's the moon?
to pass the time he told you stories
misadventures in the mountains as a boy
your imagination ran with it
the picture of him filled in a little more
for that Towncar
that fed you
though it made a ghost of the bread winner
falling asleep at the wheel
grown tired of chasing that supposed dream
and you never looked at the driver's window the same
upon hearing the story
facing a barrel, 3 a.m.
that was real
for the cozy backseat
that let your longer-than-average little legs stretch
with your head in a pillow lap
up and down the eastern seaboard
DC to skiis in VT
and all the wealthy neighborhoods in between
everyone in the car groaning
let's go
but no, no
there's architecture to marvel at
openly despise
McMansions got the brunt of it
the extra seat filled by an aunt or uncle
depending on the season
co-pilot, reading off trajectories
that's where my relationship began
with maps
with directions
she always knows where north is
and the stars would help
through that sunroof
oh there were mishaps a-plenty
fights and escaping from a moving car
fugitive scars
it could never be normal with us
at least I can laugh about it
now
but we were delivered,
barely together
to the tops of vistas
to the edge of the sea
to those sights we supposedly
had to see
sunsets calmed down
fresh aired it out
misting falls
hideous ponchos from hell
with missy climbing a tree
bored of posing
for future memories
are we there yet?
just to fit the bill
catching your next flight
electing your seat
as if, it couldn't be, it couldn't be
the destination can't change
everything
but those
4-hour nights
light's turn-around
bite-sized and stellar
an in-flight gift making your trip out of line
that much more magical, a potential for pleasure
seated
in the sky
countless looking up as you pass by
with that thought
that question
where are they headed
the ticket knows
not the grand plans once on land
to be honest
neither does the holder
but the lightness of flying
will keep you on your toes
if not a smidge too controlled
security high
counters the freedom
of the sky
so sit back, relax
pace the cabin a bit
pull over for that dinner
on an eerie storming lake along your way
pick up the hitchiker, him with the guitar and a three-legged dog
if you don't act fast enough
you can still reverse down a 3-lane highway
just don't tell them I said it was ok
and, obviously, use the shoulder
upgrade when you can
but it's always more fascinating
to sit with the common man
pick a stranger for stories
share your own
snail's pace chugging to TGV
oh, the places you'll be
buy the ticket
take the ride
chart the
discover the landscape
of your life
that take us to our dreams
along the way,
this is for you
for the whizzing sunsets and blink-n-miss it pastures
for the comfort of being in someone else's hands
signed, sealed and
delivered
remember that 15-hour stretch
chugging over borders
provinces, regions
the change was subtle
I'd look up from my book to make sure I didn't miss it
they still had smoking cars then
and the Pyrenees were gorgeous
on to that dark ride
sent off alone and young in the middle of the night
a little scared a little sad
but you had the sleeper all to yourself
and so you wrote and wrote about missing home
at least you knew what it was you were missing
between the capital and the city of your summers
courtyard echoing in games and giggles
someone who loved you would be waiting when you arrived
or that time, cuddled against your father
reluctant to be without your mother
yet when the train stopped dead in its tracks
you were glad he was there to have your back
nervous stillness, "why aren't we moving?"
it was late then too
and the countryside didn't offer any light
wondering, where's the moon?
to pass the time he told you stories
misadventures in the mountains as a boy
your imagination ran with it
the picture of him filled in a little more
for that Towncar
that fed you
though it made a ghost of the bread winner
falling asleep at the wheel
grown tired of chasing that supposed dream
and you never looked at the driver's window the same
upon hearing the story
facing a barrel, 3 a.m.
that was real
for the cozy backseat
that let your longer-than-average little legs stretch
with your head in a pillow lap
up and down the eastern seaboard
DC to skiis in VT
and all the wealthy neighborhoods in between
everyone in the car groaning
let's go
but no, no
there's architecture to marvel at
openly despise
McMansions got the brunt of it
the extra seat filled by an aunt or uncle
depending on the season
co-pilot, reading off trajectories
that's where my relationship began
with maps
with directions
she always knows where north is
and the stars would help
through that sunroof
oh there were mishaps a-plenty
fights and escaping from a moving car
fugitive scars
it could never be normal with us
at least I can laugh about it
now
but we were delivered,
barely together
to the tops of vistas
to the edge of the sea
to those sights we supposedly
had to see
sunsets calmed down
fresh aired it out
misting falls
hideous ponchos from hell
with missy climbing a tree
bored of posing
for future memories
are we there yet?
just to fit the bill
catching your next flight
electing your seat
as if, it couldn't be, it couldn't be
the destination can't change
everything
but those
4-hour nights
light's turn-around
bite-sized and stellar
an in-flight gift making your trip out of line
that much more magical, a potential for pleasure
seated
in the sky
countless looking up as you pass by
with that thought
that question
where are they headed
the ticket knows
not the grand plans once on land
to be honest
neither does the holder
but the lightness of flying
will keep you on your toes
if not a smidge too controlled
security high
counters the freedom
of the sky
so sit back, relax
pace the cabin a bit
pull over for that dinner
on an eerie storming lake along your way
pick up the hitchiker, him with the guitar and a three-legged dog
if you don't act fast enough
you can still reverse down a 3-lane highway
just don't tell them I said it was ok
and, obviously, use the shoulder
upgrade when you can
but it's always more fascinating
to sit with the common man
pick a stranger for stories
share your own
snail's pace chugging to TGV
oh, the places you'll be
buy the ticket
take the ride
chart the
discover the landscape
of your life
"I love it when the least likely blank becomes a blank, because it reminds me that things are not as prohibitive as I think they are when I'm in neutral."
- Robert Downey Jr.
- Robert Downey Jr.
un jour, tu verras. tu te réveillera, sans te rendre compte que le temp est passé si vite.
il la regardait avec des yeux, des yeux qui montrent tout.
a quoi ça sert une montre ? tu m'as pas dit que les yeux montraient tout ? que le temps se compte par tes regards, par des choses qu'on ne vois pas. des choses qui se montrent a nous.
n'est pas? ce n'est pas ça qui donne la bonne valeure aux heures ?
ce n'est pas ça qui garnit aux bon compte ?
j'ai perdu les mots de ma bouche. les sentiments flottaient parmis nos cœurs. deux têtes presque prètent a compris, qu'il n'y a pas vraiment grand chose a comprendre. plus jamais intéressé a se battre.
bon gar, tout ce que je veux te dire c’est : perds pas ton temps.
mais le temps n'est jamais perdu. tu te rends compte ? au moment quand j'ai plus le temps, je serais plus capable a en profiter, laisse tomber. hors du temps.
hors du commun, vas y toi.
t'inquiète mobylette. c'est l'air du temps.
dans la village, l'église sonne midi.
eh-
oui.
je t'aime.
je sais.
il la regardait avec des yeux, des yeux qui montrent tout.
a quoi ça sert une montre ? tu m'as pas dit que les yeux montraient tout ? que le temps se compte par tes regards, par des choses qu'on ne vois pas. des choses qui se montrent a nous.
n'est pas? ce n'est pas ça qui donne la bonne valeure aux heures ?
ce n'est pas ça qui garnit aux bon compte ?
j'ai perdu les mots de ma bouche. les sentiments flottaient parmis nos cœurs. deux têtes presque prètent a compris, qu'il n'y a pas vraiment grand chose a comprendre. plus jamais intéressé a se battre.
bon gar, tout ce que je veux te dire c’est : perds pas ton temps.
mais le temps n'est jamais perdu. tu te rends compte ? au moment quand j'ai plus le temps, je serais plus capable a en profiter, laisse tomber. hors du temps.
hors du commun, vas y toi.
t'inquiète mobylette. c'est l'air du temps.
dans la village, l'église sonne midi.
eh-
oui.
je t'aime.
je sais.
I craned my neck, stood on my tippy toes to see further into his window, the higher I got, the further back my sight caught
sight of myself in a mirror
Hung up against the last of the walls within the depths
If I can see myself,
I reasoned in my dream,
If I can see myself, surely he could see me
I waved at the reflection,
It waved back
Hoping my motions would reflect into his world
And they were indeed caught
So he sat down with my image
and blew lines off a mirror
4 huge lines
While I watched these
Lines I couldn't reach
But he still needed to share with me
In my dream
I felt trapped
sight of myself in a mirror
Hung up against the last of the walls within the depths
If I can see myself,
I reasoned in my dream,
If I can see myself, surely he could see me
I waved at the reflection,
It waved back
Hoping my motions would reflect into his world
And they were indeed caught
So he sat down with my image
and blew lines off a mirror
4 huge lines
While I watched these
Lines I couldn't reach
But he still needed to share with me
In my dream
I felt trapped
Ever think of a ridiculous email address? Wonder who is behind it? Someone awaiting a
deranged imaginative person to reach out and make contact.
Ever have something to say that the whole world needs to hear and you wish there was an email address that could deliver your message?
Ever have something to say that the whole world needs to hear and you wish there was an email address that could deliver your message?
I know I have.
I do what I can. I do what I can.
"When you see no room for innovation in the endless battling cycles of communication, it is time to seek a new environment which gives you freedom to develop intellectually."
"The greater you stretch yourself, the more fear there will be. Where fear exists, there is also the opportunity for growth. Don't hold back now - move on. Use your fear to catapult you forward."
"The greater you stretch yourself, the more fear there will be. Where fear exists, there is also the opportunity for growth. Don't hold back now - move on. Use your fear to catapult you forward."
these places we create as this generation, made of mingling periods
evolving ways of integrating a gap created by those past
overlapping paradox
started from zero (zero?) increased the speed between
receding newly to reconcile the outside with the inside of me,
you, like a Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde
how we shape-shift the seen personality,
differently
from the dream,
the quiet self alone
unknown
and now how we
these complexly simple ways we've drawn to
draw the outside in
exposing unseen
to our very own selves,
others as well
the gift of acheiving unity
its gratification grander
from how far
we've all come from so long
ago
greater crashes in atmosphere settling down
as we stir up more of our own
reaching closer to the center
from whence each half did divide,
consequences of combine
creating a soul
a nerve struck, jolting the source, jolted back ... ^
evolving ways of integrating a gap created by those past
overlapping paradox
started from zero (zero?) increased the speed between
receding newly to reconcile the outside with the inside of me,
you, like a Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde
how we shape-shift the seen personality,
differently
from the dream,
the quiet self alone
unknown
and now how we
these complexly simple ways we've drawn to
draw the outside in
exposing unseen
to our very own selves,
others as well
the gift of acheiving unity
its gratification grander
from how far
we've all come from so long
ago
greater crashes in atmosphere settling down
as we stir up more of our own
reaching closer to the center
from whence each half did divide,
consequences of combine
creating a soul
a nerve struck, jolting the source, jolted back ... ^
Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
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Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
You know, when I was 11, I played the trumpet for about 2 months.
Charmed, I'm sure
[Edit: I accidentally wrote "John Coltrane" in the title. Hahaha! Whoops]
[Edit: I accidentally wrote "John Coltrane" in the title. Hahaha! Whoops]
awwww let's make this a classic night came flying onto this page like a pickle, Vlasic might
sliding through a highway of pure liquid height
strutting down a runway \arrogant mufucka i heard your knowledge tight
they toasting over this word like a language, out of sight
into pure thought that's why
level it together we're pushing the roof up off this night
flashing
faces
bulbs in places
up real high,
I'm talking those stars in the sky
literally
I'm talking astrologically, astro- girl don't get too crazy, nomically, like
Cold as balls but the sky, we still can see the light
f*ck your clouds I'm raining down smiles**, alright?
ahhhh doo do doo do do do hey hey,
memories
all the crazy shit I did tonight*
those will be the best memories
david guetta bumpin like
electrodes flowing into speakers
siiiiiiii-
of the house, no newt ginrich like
I'm rollin in the dough of life
Bring it Kid, like cudi
my therapy, who needs therapy?
hey, hey
yea, yea
do do dooo do
*not that crazy, just great peeps, drive!
**
sliding through a highway of pure liquid height
strutting down a runway \arrogant mufucka i heard your knowledge tight
they toasting over this word like a language, out of sight
into pure thought that's why
level it together we're pushing the roof up off this night
flashing
faces
bulbs in places
up real high,
I'm talking those stars in the sky
literally
I'm talking astrologically, astro- girl don't get too crazy, nomically, like
Cold as balls but the sky, we still can see the light
f*ck your clouds I'm raining down smiles**, alright?
ahhhh doo do doo do do do hey hey,
memories
all the crazy shit I did tonight*
those will be the best memories
david guetta bumpin like
electrodes flowing into speakers
siiiiiiii-
of the house, no newt ginrich like
I'm rollin in the dough of life
Bring it Kid, like cudi
my therapy, who needs therapy?
hey, hey
yea, yea
do do dooo do
*not that crazy, just great peeps, drive!
**
*** It's never too late for a dance party with yourselfffffffffffffffff
"Apparently orgasm is the only point where your mind becomes completely empty—you think of nothing for that second. That’s why it’s so compelling—it’s a tiny taste of death. Your mind is void—you have nothing in your head save white light."
— Jeff Buckley
From
— Jeff Buckley
From
I'm just a big, old negative fart
You're not old! You're only 24! A friend in need is a friend indeed.
Thanks, I needed that reminder that the only thing holding me back from dying is positivity.
Hmm. S reaches for the lighter; scrape, click, flame, in lightening succession. Puts it to a wick which is not trimmed to 1/4 of an inch.
Couch fires, even when one does not have a couch, are devastating. Don't fall asleep with your cigarette lit. Or joint, for that matter. Even if they have those extra chemicals. The ones which taste like crap when you're standing outside a bar, shivering, and your smoke goes out because you've been too busy chatting with that cute, bangable person. All the while, in the back of your body the ache breaks through for, ah- you're hung up in the head. And your heart is waiting for everyone to one day convene in her chambers, pull an all-nighter.
Well you know, it's just my ease at criticizing everything. What happens when your perspective is honed by a prime judgementeur?
What? S asks semi-interested in a reply.
Listen- she starts, not waiting to waste feigning energy.
No, S, I just feel empty inside!! And hating on everything I think is wrong helps me feel productive.
Jaw drops. What a load! First of all, stop analyzing yourself; you're just laying down the train tracks to the destination your words march your mind to. TURN IT OFF. Who needs TV, a girl like you? Actually, maybe you should get one and replace those crazy mind games of yours.
Eye rolls from the peanut gallery, huh, wouldn't that be a great art space? The Peanut Gallery. D- focus, focus.
Anyway-
Second of all, empty? HA! I know you're more creative than that. Do you feel energized?
What? No, I'm empty- I feel nothing.
Bull! You're full of crap, that's what. You're not empty.
Empty yourself out and then you'll feel full. Just drop it D, drop your crap off at the dry cleaners and lose the receipt. What's that thing you say in some of your classes?
I dunno.
Energy loves a void.
Ah yea, that's a good one. A twinkle peeks through, a cracked grin.
Shake it out! Empty your words out, maybe then you'll feel full.
Who wants to feel full anyway? Thanksgiving is almost here. Ugh. Turkeys. Are they a metaphor for us? S muses. Stuffed and glistening with grease?
Come on, let's go for a walk. I want to show you something.............
You're not old! You're only 24! A friend in need is a friend indeed.
Thanks, I needed that reminder that the only thing holding me back from dying is positivity.
Hmm. S reaches for the lighter; scrape, click, flame, in lightening succession. Puts it to a wick which is not trimmed to 1/4 of an inch.
Couch fires, even when one does not have a couch, are devastating. Don't fall asleep with your cigarette lit. Or joint, for that matter. Even if they have those extra chemicals. The ones which taste like crap when you're standing outside a bar, shivering, and your smoke goes out because you've been too busy chatting with that cute, bangable person. All the while, in the back of your body the ache breaks through for, ah- you're hung up in the head. And your heart is waiting for everyone to one day convene in her chambers, pull an all-nighter.
Well you know, it's just my ease at criticizing everything. What happens when your perspective is honed by a prime judgementeur?
What? S asks semi-interested in a reply.
Listen- she starts, not waiting to waste feigning energy.
No, S, I just feel empty inside!! And hating on everything I think is wrong helps me feel productive.
Jaw drops. What a load! First of all, stop analyzing yourself; you're just laying down the train tracks to the destination your words march your mind to. TURN IT OFF. Who needs TV, a girl like you? Actually, maybe you should get one and replace those crazy mind games of yours.
Eye rolls from the peanut gallery, huh, wouldn't that be a great art space? The Peanut Gallery. D- focus, focus.
Anyway-
Second of all, empty? HA! I know you're more creative than that. Do you feel energized?
What? No, I'm empty- I feel nothing.
Bull! You're full of crap, that's what. You're not empty.
Empty yourself out and then you'll feel full. Just drop it D, drop your crap off at the dry cleaners and lose the receipt. What's that thing you say in some of your classes?
I dunno.
Energy loves a void.
Ah yea, that's a good one. A twinkle peeks through, a cracked grin.
Shake it out! Empty your words out, maybe then you'll feel full.
Who wants to feel full anyway? Thanksgiving is almost here. Ugh. Turkeys. Are they a metaphor for us? S muses. Stuffed and glistening with grease?
Come on, let's go for a walk. I want to show you something.............
[Persistence pays off, kids. This is my
thirdfourth and final attempt at posting this damn entry. And you know what? Maybe fate wanted me to not humiliate myself by posting a ramble such as this. But I insist. This must be turned over.]
CUT TO
Sex
Now. H:ahahahahahahahaha shut up
I'm coming. Like, twice. Jesus complex. Sue me, white lunar world
bridger. Was that the one? Two?
Make me. Yea, I said it. Ohhh no she didn't
Craisins. Dried. Cranberries. Jenius mother trucker. Eeeew remember
trucker hats? BARF. Von Douche!!!
What in G*d's legal name change?
[Scenes from my screenplay-by-play]
Sharpen you knife skills, Ninja.
You know what the beast oops, best thing to do is? Accept your fate.
Except, your fate.
It's like that board (bored) game, Sorry! You take the wrong way, but
ya get to slide weeeeee. You make it either way, right?
We need bankable people. The big wigs said. Someone the masses can
look up to, can aspire to be like.
What? I want them to be like
THEMSELVES. You jerks! Go peddle your wares elsewhere. And I plucked a
cookie from their breakfast platter. Can I inspire them to listen to
their hearts? And get into their hearts first, you know, preach the
goodstuff?
Look up the word in the dictionary, their expressions pop up- dubious. Level it off, you've lost them.
Society can only evolve as much as the least evolved man. Oh, f*uck!!
What happened to the teacher at the back of the line? Wasn't she supposed to hurry those stragglers along? Is she the least evolved? Cross the dang street already!
Listen, we don't care about society. We're sitting like some fat, stuffed Christmas ducks on this stock and need to sell, or we'll explode and tax payers are pretty sick of cleaning up the mess, ya catch my drift. So we need you. That buzz--
Will it sell these 60,000 t-shirts we had slave-crafted in Cambodia?
Mannn fuck you! What if your mom was working in that factory? Huh?
Think about that. Man. I mean really. Think about it. Take a damn
tshirt from the goodwill box and craft some shit. You think recycling
is limited to those blue bins? Fuck your trash organizer.
My subway stop's got the word CLASS in it. Take that and put it in
your damn pipe and smoke it. Yea, stick it in the tail pipe of that
Cadillac escalope de veau. Bone up man! Killing animals and shit your
carbon footprint is Jurassic! Fuck, the hybrid.
You ever hear of the Butterfly Effect? Yea, forget it. Welcome, the Stampede of Elephants Effect. You must not be thinking on the same scale as you're acting on. It's too bad.
We in the same boat, you claim?
You're probably right.
Only my boat is sailing, not docked and anchored.
With SAILS. That butterfly? Its fallen cocoon shook the cliffs deep within the sea. That wave is carrying me!
Your seamstress? Yea, the one who could be your mother? The pin she dropped while sewing those cotton-poly blend t-shirts just tripped her colleague. Why? Because her back is bad. And she had to stick her leg out to retrieve it.
That fallen woman tried to catch herself on a sewing machine in motion.
She lost a finger!
And you want me to get on QVC and SELL THIS CRAP!?
CUT TO
Sex
Now. H:ahahahahahahahaha shut up
I'm coming. Like, twice. Jesus complex. Sue me, white lunar world
bridger. Was that the one? Two?
Make me. Yea, I said it. Ohhh no she didn't
Craisins. Dried. Cranberries. Jenius mother trucker. Eeeew remember
trucker hats? BARF. Von Douche!!!
What in G*d's legal name change?
[Scenes from my screenplay-by-play]
Sharpen you knife skills, Ninja.
You know what the beast oops, best thing to do is? Accept your fate.
Except, your fate.
It's like that board (bored) game, Sorry! You take the wrong way, but
ya get to slide weeeeee. You make it either way, right?
We need bankable people. The big wigs said. Someone the masses can
look up to, can aspire to be like.
What? I want them to be like
THEMSELVES. You jerks! Go peddle your wares elsewhere. And I plucked a
cookie from their breakfast platter. Can I inspire them to listen to
their hearts? And get into their hearts first, you know, preach the
goodstuff?
Look up the word in the dictionary, their expressions pop up- dubious. Level it off, you've lost them.
Society can only evolve as much as the least evolved man. Oh, f*uck!!
What happened to the teacher at the back of the line? Wasn't she supposed to hurry those stragglers along? Is she the least evolved? Cross the dang street already!
Listen, we don't care about society. We're sitting like some fat, stuffed Christmas ducks on this stock and need to sell, or we'll explode and tax payers are pretty sick of cleaning up the mess, ya catch my drift. So we need you. That buzz--
Will it sell these 60,000 t-shirts we had slave-crafted in Cambodia?
Mannn fuck you! What if your mom was working in that factory? Huh?
Think about that. Man. I mean really. Think about it. Take a damn
tshirt from the goodwill box and craft some shit. You think recycling
is limited to those blue bins? Fuck your trash organizer.
My subway stop's got the word CLASS in it. Take that and put it in
your damn pipe and smoke it. Yea, stick it in the tail pipe of that
Cadillac escalope de veau. Bone up man! Killing animals and shit your
carbon footprint is Jurassic! Fuck, the hybrid.
You ever hear of the Butterfly Effect? Yea, forget it. Welcome, the Stampede of Elephants Effect. You must not be thinking on the same scale as you're acting on. It's too bad.
We in the same boat, you claim?
You're probably right.
Only my boat is sailing, not docked and anchored.
With SAILS. That butterfly? Its fallen cocoon shook the cliffs deep within the sea. That wave is carrying me!
Your seamstress? Yea, the one who could be your mother? The pin she dropped while sewing those cotton-poly blend t-shirts just tripped her colleague. Why? Because her back is bad. And she had to stick her leg out to retrieve it.
That fallen woman tried to catch herself on a sewing machine in motion.
She lost a finger!
And you want me to get on QVC and SELL THIS CRAP!?
Hooked.
James Blake covers Feist
Exposes
Soul
And I wonder if somehow, a beauty mark on the back of your neck's right half flags you as
Touched
And I wonder if somehow, a beauty mark on the back of your neck's right half flags you as
Touched
Touché
Something like an owl
|
"just meet them where they are, different people often, so no continuity to work from., take it slow and you'll see where their limits are"
SMS speaking multiple secrets
SMS speaking multiple secrets
|
Things should fall into either of two categories (if it serves both then we're talking a third category, genius):
Beautiful
or
Useful
Unfortunately for beauty, beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them (merci, Hume) and many minds declaring beauty have ceased to contemplate at all.
'Art' has taken an anti-heroic fall where respect is paid to those deserving
none at all.
Beautiful
or
Useful
Unfortunately for beauty, beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them (merci, Hume) and many minds declaring beauty have ceased to contemplate at all.
'Art' has taken an anti-heroic fall where respect is paid to those deserving
none at all.
The things that make one laugh reveal a lot about that person, don't they? Well, I don't know exactly what this reveals about me (though I have some inklings) but slapstick, physical comedy gets me roaring. I mean, curled in a ball, face falling off, tears in your eyes, wailing like a banshee, breath out of breath, sick to your stomach, eventually laughing at how hard you're laughing, laughing. And last night, that was me. A girl laughing so hard that if my fit was taken out of context and shown as a short video clip to passersby on the street to gather their opinions, 5 out of 6 might venture to ask, "Is this what hysteria looks like?" I am not ashamed.
So as part of my ever-notorious, MBBC, I bring to you pages 114-117 (or chapter 29 into 30) of my new favorite author Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake. If there's a chance you'll laugh as hard and as well as I did, it'd be an outright crime not to share this...
ENJOY
I feel your pain, KV.
So as part of my ever-notorious, MBBC, I bring to you pages 114-117 (or chapter 29 into 30) of my new favorite author Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake. If there's a chance you'll laugh as hard and as well as I did, it'd be an outright crime not to share this...
ENJOY
when you make love the focus, you sort of eventually kill it, it becomes garish under the microscope, robbed of organic mystery in the moments
but when you use it to inform everything you do, you sort of really fill it
with life, substance, beyond a 4 letter word and kisses on a screen
it becomes real, because it's an element in everything you touch, approach, illuminating form, illuminated by form
and when you bring love to loving
well,
that's enlightenment
that's everything
but when you use it to inform everything you do, you sort of really fill it
with life, substance, beyond a 4 letter word and kisses on a screen
it becomes real, because it's an element in everything you touch, approach, illuminating form, illuminated by form
and when you bring love to loving
well,
that's enlightenment
that's everything
Sometimes I'm working from habit, memory, routine, familiarity; and it begins to weigh heavy
We become bored, uncertain, uninspired, seeking. Restless.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
From inception, subtle instructions pointing us to
You are what you do
My insides need to express who I am
Within what I do
Being expressed in doing
Not doing to become, though further becoming is a natural outgrowth
And so it should be
For you too
In so doing, arriving at
The impression of oneness (I say impression because it already exists, we just can't see it, fully feel it; until it impresses itself upon us)
With all that we engage
Which form takes on which shape?
Subtle seamless
Give and take
Even so, disconnection comes through the wire
A certain lack of fuel for fire
Or abundance of fire, tearing through fuel
We get comfortable and forget to reach
Yet times request a steadied rest
Reconnecting to the spontaneity of being what you know without knowing that you know it, what comes naturally, expressing experience plus...
There's this lesson in breath I recently learned
Of course, once both sides were presented and grasped a deeper metaphor was unleashed to wrap around me fast
And it wasn't so much the mechanics, though they will surely get you there
But the meaning that accompanied it to remain well past the moment
I saw the symptom through this comedian I flipped to catch last night. Late Late show. Right before Last Call when you know who ever is up and watching just doesn't give a f*ck- (sidenote, that's what TV does. I haven't owned/watched TV in, oh, 7 years, and have recently been around one again, tuning in. It just sucks the give-a-f*ck right out of you. Makes my feel like a little tween eating canned corn and Elio's pizza after school, alone, bored, watching 90210. WOW anywayyyy ::shudder). He was ranting about how good things were going in his life. While a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him, "Oh wow, things are going really well, look at that. You're gonna screw it up, oh man you're gonna mess this up things are going so well when is it gonna get messed up?" and on and on. The crowd laughed in agreement, sure, we can sympathize. The seesaw. What's with the seesaw? Wasn't it enough on the playground?
Coming back to the larger point, found in this breathing -- what's a less rigid word for exercise? That.
Inhale deeply through the nose. Feel your heart and lungs expand, receive fullness. On the exhale, maintain this fullness, this space. At the bottom of the exhale, come into the natural contraction of your lower abdomen. Along with this contraction comes a deeper connection with your seat, a rooting effect that draws down as you draw in through the exhale. Maintain the contraction, this connection with the earth as you receive the breath, expanding up and out. Instead of seesawing, my instructor went on to impart, exaggerating heavy, hardly graceful, aerobic breathing- in, out, in, out, up, down, up, down, his whole torso shook; integrate.
There's a tightness I came into during this process.
Instead of swinging side to side, weave in the center. Like this visual concept I've been carrying, partly too afraid and unsure of how to execute, partly gathering pieces to complete the blank edges; like a braid through time, all the strings are already crossed waaaay down the line, they're waiting, far apart as seemingly unrelated. And as we come to them on our roads, they definitively overlap, get tighter, just needing, awaiting us to pull our way forward.
We become bored, uncertain, uninspired, seeking. Restless.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
From inception, subtle instructions pointing us to
You are what you do
My insides need to express who I am
Within what I do
Being expressed in doing
Not doing to become, though further becoming is a natural outgrowth
And so it should be
For you too
In so doing, arriving at
The impression of oneness (I say impression because it already exists, we just can't see it, fully feel it; until it impresses itself upon us)
With all that we engage
Which form takes on which shape?
Subtle seamless
Give and take
Even so, disconnection comes through the wire
A certain lack of fuel for fire
Or abundance of fire, tearing through fuel
We get comfortable and forget to reach
Yet times request a steadied rest
Reconnecting to the spontaneity of being what you know without knowing that you know it, what comes naturally, expressing experience plus...
There's this lesson in breath I recently learned
Of course, once both sides were presented and grasped a deeper metaphor was unleashed to wrap around me fast
And it wasn't so much the mechanics, though they will surely get you there
But the meaning that accompanied it to remain well past the moment
I saw the symptom through this comedian I flipped to catch last night. Late Late show. Right before Last Call when you know who ever is up and watching just doesn't give a f*ck- (sidenote, that's what TV does. I haven't owned/watched TV in, oh, 7 years, and have recently been around one again, tuning in. It just sucks the give-a-f*ck right out of you. Makes my feel like a little tween eating canned corn and Elio's pizza after school, alone, bored, watching 90210. WOW anywayyyy ::shudder). He was ranting about how good things were going in his life. While a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him, "Oh wow, things are going really well, look at that. You're gonna screw it up, oh man you're gonna mess this up things are going so well when is it gonna get messed up?" and on and on. The crowd laughed in agreement, sure, we can sympathize. The seesaw. What's with the seesaw? Wasn't it enough on the playground?
Coming back to the larger point, found in this breathing -- what's a less rigid word for exercise? That.
Inhale deeply through the nose. Feel your heart and lungs expand, receive fullness. On the exhale, maintain this fullness, this space. At the bottom of the exhale, come into the natural contraction of your lower abdomen. Along with this contraction comes a deeper connection with your seat, a rooting effect that draws down as you draw in through the exhale. Maintain the contraction, this connection with the earth as you receive the breath, expanding up and out. Instead of seesawing, my instructor went on to impart, exaggerating heavy, hardly graceful, aerobic breathing- in, out, in, out, up, down, up, down, his whole torso shook; integrate.
There's a tightness I came into during this process.
Instead of swinging side to side, weave in the center. Like this visual concept I've been carrying, partly too afraid and unsure of how to execute, partly gathering pieces to complete the blank edges; like a braid through time, all the strings are already crossed waaaay down the line, they're waiting, far apart as seemingly unrelated. And as we come to them on our roads, they definitively overlap, get tighter, just needing, awaiting us to pull our way forward.
|
I'd like for them to say he took a few cups of love, he took 1 tablespoon of patience, 1 teaspoon of generosity, 1 pint of kindness, he took 1 quart of laughter, 1 pinch of concern, and then, he mixed willingness with happiness, he added lots of faith, and he stirred it up well, then he spread it up over a span of a lifetime, and he served it to each and every deserving person he met.
|
Today is my birthday. Hold the applause, please, please. Thank you, yes, I know, thank you.
On these kinda full-circle days, I think it's nice to reflect on what you've learned up til now. Here are some things I've sort-of learned, or more or less just have on my mind today.............
My brother in law needed to leave work early the other day to pick up a friend from the airport. He told them that he was getting acupuncture in Yonkers. "Yonkers?", they asked, seated in the FiDi, "Isn't that a bit far to go for acupuncture?" "Ah yea, but it's a special procedure. You see, they insert the needles into the tip of your penis." No further questions.
Outrageous lies are often more believable than the boring, inconvenient truth. Tell them when you'll get a laugh, it doesn't hurt anyone, and you can afford it.
These are the kind of people I am grateful for in my life. If only for the outrageous form of inspiration. But, really, for so much more...
When it comes to making yourself happy, do the do (dew).
Get over yourself and get into yourself
"An idea without a price tag has no meaning"
Knowing what you want, priceless. Getting it, will cost you (tax you).
Reinventing the wheel. Discuss.
It's gray and raining. And it's quite perfect. Silencing. To me it sounds like soft applause for my quiet entry into this world. Apparently I wasn't crying out of the womb. Ha. Typical. Quiet at first and then I get cozy.........
Time and time again it proves itself to me: We only regret those things we did not do. And the more seconds you spend on that equals more regret. Let it go and paint that shit gold. Ah I know, it's hard, it's hard. It's ok, one day you'll be dead. See? Isn't that better?...
This one time, I was hysterically crying, right. And in the middle of it, I paused and said, "Damn this feels amazing."
Late for a conf. call. PER USUAL.
Ah, good, waiting for others to join....
Failing to plan... In some cases, could go REALLY well, actually. But you have to be 100% committed. Either way you go, go into it all the way. Because if you start scrambling 1/2-ass planning in the middle of the game, you're blocking the waves of spontaneity which will otherwise carry you through marvelously.
If you have a gut, go with it. Otherwise, go to the gym and get some endorphins going which will support the gut you're not going with while also getting you in tip top shape.
Other important birthdays:
So there you have it, ladies and gents.
Off to werk...
Much love,
Moi
P/S Can someone please explain the 'fusion'? Lost in translation.
On these kinda full-circle days, I think it's nice to reflect on what you've learned up til now. Here are some things I've sort-of learned, or more or less just have on my mind today.............
My brother in law needed to leave work early the other day to pick up a friend from the airport. He told them that he was getting acupuncture in Yonkers. "Yonkers?", they asked, seated in the FiDi, "Isn't that a bit far to go for acupuncture?" "Ah yea, but it's a special procedure. You see, they insert the needles into the tip of your penis." No further questions.
Outrageous lies are often more believable than the boring, inconvenient truth. Tell them when you'll get a laugh, it doesn't hurt anyone, and you can afford it.
These are the kind of people I am grateful for in my life. If only for the outrageous form of inspiration. But, really, for so much more...
When it comes to making yourself happy, do the do (dew).
Get over yourself and get into yourself
"An idea without a price tag has no meaning"
Knowing what you want, priceless. Getting it, will cost you (tax you).
Reinventing the wheel. Discuss.
It's gray and raining. And it's quite perfect. Silencing. To me it sounds like soft applause for my quiet entry into this world. Apparently I wasn't crying out of the womb. Ha. Typical. Quiet at first and then I get cozy.........
Time and time again it proves itself to me: We only regret those things we did not do. And the more seconds you spend on that equals more regret. Let it go and paint that shit gold. Ah I know, it's hard, it's hard. It's ok, one day you'll be dead. See? Isn't that better?...
This one time, I was hysterically crying, right. And in the middle of it, I paused and said, "Damn this feels amazing."
Late for a conf. call. PER USUAL.
Ah, good, waiting for others to join....
Failing to plan... In some cases, could go REALLY well, actually. But you have to be 100% committed. Either way you go, go into it all the way. Because if you start scrambling 1/2-ass planning in the middle of the game, you're blocking the waves of spontaneity which will otherwise carry you through marvelously.
If you have a gut, go with it. Otherwise, go to the gym and get some endorphins going which will support the gut you're not going with while also getting you in tip top shape.
Other important birthdays:
I mean, what an honor.
(Note the sizurp)
"Over it"
I'm sorry, what?
It's a little known fact but, there was, in actuality, a cupcake to where his finger is pointing.
The artist failed to render the cupcake because he was just using it to garner the reaction,
"Are you going to eat that?", a question commonly asked by those born on this date.
So there you have it, ladies and gents.
Off to werk...
Much love,
Moi
P/S Can someone please explain the 'fusion'? Lost in translation.
Dear _______ (blank),
I thought about writing you the whole way home tonight. It started somewhere around that really expansive part of the FDR where the road takes a big curve to the left and the river hugs in to the right, and you've got an open view of the Empire State (all white now) and the Chrysler and that funny building with an isosceles triangle for a hat. That part always gets me excited about the city. Just that part. Flying driving and boom, beautiful skyline, you can feel the cars respond with the woosh in the road. Somewhere around the bridge I got in the mood to write again, like I did back when. Then you're ahead of yourself, and all these ideas come tumbling out in perfect succession and you're stepping harder on the pedal to slow the thoughts down before you're before a place to jot, jet. Then someone threw their cigarette out their window and it freaked me out, like always. I always picture some freak accident of physics happening where their loose cigarette, still lit, bounces into my tailpipe and sparks, ignites up in there somewhere, exploding the whole car and me along with it. One little spark and boom, MacGruber, I'd be gone and then this letter couldn't come out. That's what I worry about. Dying and not being able to write this letter. Not dying and leaving behind friends and family and a life not yet lived out. No. Just dying and not getting home tonight to let this out because those friends and family aren't around (I tried. Called two of them, no dice.) and when you start thinking, "I wouldn't mind someone to just talk to and tell all this random stuff to and have them listen and then I'll listen back" you start to think you really do need that, not just want it, but need it. So you call. Or start a narrative to no one in particular, to blank.
It's not like I can't be alone. I love being alone. But lately I feel like all we do is work. Work, work, work and relax at home in our own worlds before we pass out for a few to get up and go again. And that's fine, and maybe I'm just having a bout of cryptomnesia (which I analyzed in the car) where I internalized a horoscope I read today which told me rekindling friendships and spending time with friends would be something I might yearn for today, and then spit it back out thinking it was coming from my own original source. I don't know. Maybe. Regardless, we used to all get together for some QT without our phones and laptops open and heads in 3 worlds at once. We all used to get together and BE together. In a room, with some tunes and some wine or food or tea or whatever and really spend time together. Maybe play some cards. Or get into fights where packets of oatmeal would be thrown really hard until they burst. Ha. And the simplicity of each others company was enough, we didn't need added cushioning of extra media to make time around others comfortable. When did that happen? How did that happen? Us getting so dependent on our second identities in the matrix that it makes interactions face to face, hm, I don't know, strained. Strange. Eh, maybe it's just my imagination.
It's like I'm stoned or something, tonight. I used to be, often, when the words would align right up in a stream and flow out sans inhibitions. Just being honest. But I havn't been since before that time between May and June when things got rearranged, some kind of automatic psychotherapy to clean that little part up. But I still dream about it, let me tell ya, and a nervous dreaming. How am I gonna get neurotic in my sleep? I used to never care this much about not doing something. But the funny part is that in waking life, there's nothing to it, I can take it or leave it and I just leave it.
That and nervous, worse-possible-outcome dreaming about being late to a class and getting in trouble. I am chronically late. It's terrible. My sense of time is a little warped. I'm workin on ittttt. What's the saying? "#IT'S A PROCESS"?
I've rarely had recurring dreams but I figure I'm really dealing with some sh*t inside there for these things to continually be brought up. Dark stuff. Joints and tardiness. Jeez.
It's a trip to get on the other end of something you love. Where you break it down into its parts to be able to put it back together in order to understand it fully, so you can pass it on to others with the how, why and where behind the instruction. Honestly, it can take the fun out of it, being on this other end. Receiving the transmission feels great and you just turn in, tune in and take it. Giving it can be so exhausting. Because you're also trying to take it in, as the giver and as the receiver, like, what are they feeling? Is this flowing? There must be some seamless level where giver and receiver are no longer separate. I'll let you know when I get there. I'm still digging my heels into confidence and projecting my voice with authority, that way responses are firmer and I won't think they hate me or don't trust me when I'm giving them instructions on how to move. It's weird, I know. Wish I could take my own class...
I mentioned the power of auto suggestion tonight. Had them all in a standing balance. Wobbling. "Bring strength into your standing leg with your suggestion of stability." I think that convoluted advice just distracted some people and they lost their balance. Ha. Shit. One. Day. At. A. Time.
But really. Auto-suggestion. Get familiar. I'm not going to 'testify!' but I'll say, it's magical.
And we could all use a little magic in our lives.
Signing off with so much more I had but got left on the road somewhere.
<3,
Fullness
I thought about writing you the whole way home tonight. It started somewhere around that really expansive part of the FDR where the road takes a big curve to the left and the river hugs in to the right, and you've got an open view of the Empire State (all white now) and the Chrysler and that funny building with an isosceles triangle for a hat. That part always gets me excited about the city. Just that part. Flying driving and boom, beautiful skyline, you can feel the cars respond with the woosh in the road. Somewhere around the bridge I got in the mood to write again, like I did back when. Then you're ahead of yourself, and all these ideas come tumbling out in perfect succession and you're stepping harder on the pedal to slow the thoughts down before you're before a place to jot, jet. Then someone threw their cigarette out their window and it freaked me out, like always. I always picture some freak accident of physics happening where their loose cigarette, still lit, bounces into my tailpipe and sparks, ignites up in there somewhere, exploding the whole car and me along with it. One little spark and boom, MacGruber, I'd be gone and then this letter couldn't come out. That's what I worry about. Dying and not being able to write this letter. Not dying and leaving behind friends and family and a life not yet lived out. No. Just dying and not getting home tonight to let this out because those friends and family aren't around (I tried. Called two of them, no dice.) and when you start thinking, "I wouldn't mind someone to just talk to and tell all this random stuff to and have them listen and then I'll listen back" you start to think you really do need that, not just want it, but need it. So you call. Or start a narrative to no one in particular, to blank.
It's not like I can't be alone. I love being alone. But lately I feel like all we do is work. Work, work, work and relax at home in our own worlds before we pass out for a few to get up and go again. And that's fine, and maybe I'm just having a bout of cryptomnesia (which I analyzed in the car) where I internalized a horoscope I read today which told me rekindling friendships and spending time with friends would be something I might yearn for today, and then spit it back out thinking it was coming from my own original source. I don't know. Maybe. Regardless, we used to all get together for some QT without our phones and laptops open and heads in 3 worlds at once. We all used to get together and BE together. In a room, with some tunes and some wine or food or tea or whatever and really spend time together. Maybe play some cards. Or get into fights where packets of oatmeal would be thrown really hard until they burst. Ha. And the simplicity of each others company was enough, we didn't need added cushioning of extra media to make time around others comfortable. When did that happen? How did that happen? Us getting so dependent on our second identities in the matrix that it makes interactions face to face, hm, I don't know, strained. Strange. Eh, maybe it's just my imagination.
It's like I'm stoned or something, tonight. I used to be, often, when the words would align right up in a stream and flow out sans inhibitions. Just being honest. But I havn't been since before that time between May and June when things got rearranged, some kind of automatic psychotherapy to clean that little part up. But I still dream about it, let me tell ya, and a nervous dreaming. How am I gonna get neurotic in my sleep? I used to never care this much about not doing something. But the funny part is that in waking life, there's nothing to it, I can take it or leave it and I just leave it.
That and nervous, worse-possible-outcome dreaming about being late to a class and getting in trouble. I am chronically late. It's terrible. My sense of time is a little warped. I'm workin on ittttt. What's the saying? "#IT'S A PROCESS"?
I've rarely had recurring dreams but I figure I'm really dealing with some sh*t inside there for these things to continually be brought up. Dark stuff. Joints and tardiness. Jeez.
It's a trip to get on the other end of something you love. Where you break it down into its parts to be able to put it back together in order to understand it fully, so you can pass it on to others with the how, why and where behind the instruction. Honestly, it can take the fun out of it, being on this other end. Receiving the transmission feels great and you just turn in, tune in and take it. Giving it can be so exhausting. Because you're also trying to take it in, as the giver and as the receiver, like, what are they feeling? Is this flowing? There must be some seamless level where giver and receiver are no longer separate. I'll let you know when I get there. I'm still digging my heels into confidence and projecting my voice with authority, that way responses are firmer and I won't think they hate me or don't trust me when I'm giving them instructions on how to move. It's weird, I know. Wish I could take my own class...
I mentioned the power of auto suggestion tonight. Had them all in a standing balance. Wobbling. "Bring strength into your standing leg with your suggestion of stability." I think that convoluted advice just distracted some people and they lost their balance. Ha. Shit. One. Day. At. A. Time.
But really. Auto-suggestion. Get familiar. I'm not going to 'testify!' but I'll say, it's magical.
And we could all use a little magic in our lives.
Signing off with so much more I had but got left on the road somewhere.
<3,
Fullness
|
"All music is what awakes within us
when we are reminded by the instruments;
It is not the violins or the clarinets -
It is not the beating of the drums -
Nor the score of the baritone singing
his sweet romanza; not that of the men's chorus,
Nor that of the women's chorus -
It is nearer and farther than they.-"
Lovingly,
- Eunice Waymon -
Sun-kissed city day, strolling around the dense comfort of a Western Village's townhouse-scape,
16 bars away from another world of always-flowing traffic
staying within the lines of boutiques, cafes, narrow roads
lush trees still line the streets, their leaves holding on for just a little while longer,
while this song colors the air,
walking, walking, walking, walking
Let's not beat around the fucking bush here.
These sites have taken to dishing out some pretty helpful tidbits, take a gander:
I'm wondering if anyone else has taken to dispensing of advice in this abrasive albeit, refreshingly straight forward, manner?
Here are some of my own contributions to this wave of fuckery...
FuckingMD
"Fucking floss and brush your teeth everyday"
"Stop stuffing your fucking face"
GreenFuck
"Turn the fucking light off if no one's in the room"
"Fucking walk a few blocks"
RelationshipFuckers
"They don't fucking like you. Move on"
"Fucking listen"
"Make them fucking smile"
SexAdvice
"Good fucking luck"
"Keep it fucking wet"
"Make it fucking fresh"
ConstructionAdvice
"Hire fucking immigrants"
ChildRearingAdvice
"Don't fuck"
"Never, ever, use a fucking leash"
StyleAdvice
"Stop trying so fucking hard"
Hmm I quite like this, feeling very effective when the F word is implied...
LifeAdvice
"Just fucking breathe"
"Celebrate your fucking life"
FriendshipAdvice
"Mind your own fucking business"
"Fucking have their back"
FamilyAdvice
"Fucking love your parents"
"Fucking make up already"
"Fucking call your mother "
TravelAdvice
"Toss the fucking Fodors"
"Have a fucking place to stay"
PartyAdvice
"Keep it fucking classy"
"Fucking top-shelf first"
PetAdvice
"Stop leaving the fucking gate unlocked"
MoneyAdvice
"Cut up your fucking credit cards"
"Save your fucking money"
"Stop buying fucking bedazzled pet accessories"
CareerAdvice
"Stop fucking checking your Facebook" or, alternately "Get on Facebook and fucking network"
"Do something you fucking love"
LoveAdvice
"Love with all your fucking heart"
These sites have taken to dishing out some pretty helpful tidbits, take a gander:
I'm wondering if anyone else has taken to dispensing of advice in this abrasive albeit, refreshingly straight forward, manner?
Here are some of my own contributions to this wave of fuckery...
FuckingMD
"Fucking floss and brush your teeth everyday"
"Stop stuffing your fucking face"
GreenFuck
"Turn the fucking light off if no one's in the room"
"Fucking walk a few blocks"
RelationshipFuckers
"They don't fucking like you. Move on"
"Fucking listen"
"Make them fucking smile"
SexAdvice
"Good fucking luck"
"Keep it fucking wet"
"Make it fucking fresh"
ConstructionAdvice
"Hire fucking immigrants"
ChildRearingAdvice
"Don't fuck"
"Never, ever, use a fucking leash"
StyleAdvice
"Stop trying so fucking hard"
Hmm I quite like this, feeling very effective when the F word is implied...
LifeAdvice
"Just fucking breathe"
"Celebrate your fucking life"
FriendshipAdvice
"Mind your own fucking business"
"Fucking have their back"
FamilyAdvice
"Fucking love your parents"
"Fucking make up already"
"Fucking call your mother "
TravelAdvice
"Toss the fucking Fodors"
"Have a fucking place to stay"
PartyAdvice
"Keep it fucking classy"
"Fucking top-shelf first"
PetAdvice
"Stop leaving the fucking gate unlocked"
MoneyAdvice
"Cut up your fucking credit cards"
"Save your fucking money"
"Stop buying fucking bedazzled pet accessories"
CareerAdvice
"Stop fucking checking your Facebook" or, alternately "Get on Facebook and fucking network"
"Do something you fucking love"
LoveAdvice
"Love with all your fucking heart"
stepping forward each letter is a stone on the road of words defining the journey to the other side
Devanāgarī, city of gods, they inhabit our words, inspiration to spill from the tongues of many
equally we've all abused, so easy to speak with lashes, gossip, trashing, boasting, bashing
sticks and stones may break our bones but words, oh they penetrate far more deeply
take care, a vow to take the rap, wrap away from war with words
meaning escalates so steeply
up there, paired with air melody moving invisibly to keep the breath alive
why do you think the i-
Pods, head-phones call us all back to ourselves
more and more
accessing love
and nothing more
Devanāgarī, city of gods, they inhabit our words, inspiration to spill from the tongues of many
equally we've all abused, so easy to speak with lashes, gossip, trashing, boasting, bashing
sticks and stones may break our bones but words, oh they penetrate far more deeply
take care, a vow to take the rap, wrap away from war with words
meaning escalates so steeply
up there, paired with air melody moving invisibly to keep the breath alive
why do you think the i-
Pods, head-phones call us all back to ourselves
more and more
accessing love
and nothing more
The last few years, I've just begun to really discover recording artists that have been around for ages, the kind you should be slightly embarrassed not to know already. I think Aziz Ansari touched on this naivete once, joking about his 18 year old cousin who "just discovered music".
Some of us grow up in a house full of records where music passed through the air along with a cooking dinner. Genres limited, genres expansive... Others, not so much, stuck to the radio hits and classmate influence.
And then we grow up and the power is ours and you sort of find the giant X where a treasure trove of richness rests...
I've always got my ears open, grateful for hints and nudges down the line of musicians, reaching further and further back through the linage of influence.
And the other day along came one of the most beautiful songs (artists) I've heard of late... So glad to have been open at the right moment...
And those amazing words...
If I ventured in the slipstream Between the viaducts of your dream
Where immobile steel rims crack And the ditch in the back roads stop
Could you find me? Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down In silence easy
To be born again To be born again
From the far side of the ocean If I put the wheels in motion
And I stand with my arms behind me And Im pushin on the door
Could you find me? Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down In silence easy
To be born again To be born again
There you go Standin with the look of avarice
Talkin to huddie ledbetter Showin pictures on the wall
Whisperin in the hall And pointin a finger at me
There you go, there you go Standin in the sun darlin
With your arms behind you And your eyes before
There you go Takin good care of your boy
Seein that hes got clean clothes Puttin on his little red shoes
I see you know hes got clean clothes A-puttin on his little red shoes
A-pointin a finger at me And here I am
Standing in your sad arrest Trying to do my very best
Lookin straight at you Comin through, darlin
Yeah, yeah, yeah If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop Could you find me
Would you kiss-a my eyes Lay me down In silence easy
To be born again To be born again
To be born again In another world
In another world In another time
Got a home on high
Aint nothing but a stranger in this world
Im nothing but a stranger in this world
I got a home on high
In another land So far away So far away
Way up in the heaven Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven Way up in the heaven
In another time In another place
In another time In another place
Way up in the heaven Way up in the heaven
We are goin up to heaven We are goin to heaven
In another time In another place
In another time In another place
In another face
My dear friend Gabbie has been working on an art blog, Three is Enough.
Purist, reductionist, art history buff
I love the variety of works she features, spanning styles, centuries;
boiling it all down to three succinct adjectives (usually).
boiling it all down to three succinct adjectives (usually).
Great source for hand-picked pieces and K-I-S-S statements.
And don't even get me started on the 3...
This lady always be tellin' it like it is!
"Are you still waiting for the world to tell you that it’s ok to be alive? It’s ok to be who you are? You know you’ll be waiting a while if you need these verifications from the outside world. When you will learn and know that who you are right now is perfect? You must love who you are before you can move onto shifting into a new person."
Last night someone offered me a cookie out of the blue, standing at the corner of a late August early night.
I wasn't hungry but hunger and fortune are usually opposed, anyways...
I wasn't hungry but hunger and fortune are usually opposed, anyways...
potent time
At 50 years of age,
if I'm still around,
I want to say to myself,
It's still prime time, and it's -- only getting better
Let my heart stay forever
Forever young
Like fading memories
Captured at the split second where movement becomes transparent and light pervades,
where moment loses to eternity..........
|
I might just be a big ol' fool for missing them tonight...
But sometimes life presents you with two roads at once and ya can't go straight at the fork in the road
And what retrospective would be complete without
Ok after watching/listening to all these tunes... definitely kicking myself
And what retrospective would be complete without
Ok after watching/listening to all these tunes... definitely kicking myself
The whole world could be choked with thorns:
A lover's heart will stay a rose garden.
The wheel of heaven could wind to a halt:
The world of lovers will go on turning.
Even if every being grew sad, a lover's soul
will still stay fresh, vibrant, light.
Rumi
A lover's heart will stay a rose garden.
The wheel of heaven could wind to a halt:
The world of lovers will go on turning.
Even if every being grew sad, a lover's soul
will still stay fresh, vibrant, light.
Rumi
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know what it means as defined by someone who's sitting on their bathroom floor in a towel, ready to take a shower but overrun by inspiration so they put the normalties of life on hold to go with the flow.
If you're going to call us artists, you should know that the shittiest day can -- nay, will, be turned around by a stroke of genius, creation.
We will travel high and low for the thrills and we will always come back home to the responsibility we have to the race (if we don't die of the wrong chase).
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know my sources are untraceable because they belong to no one, they belong to everyone and yet, if you're going to call me an artist, you should know you might not be seeing the same picture as me and the invisible army in my head.
Armed by their brushes and cameras and instruments of all shapes and sizes, timbres and tones, colors and clarities -- the diamond mine of an artist can be rent at noon and full by sunrise, overflowing with the beauty of a border-free sky.
If you're going to call us artists, never underestimate our ability to fill your senses with forgettable short-term memories that leave their permanent traces upon your actual lives, the choices you make, the friends you pursue, the new pictures your mind might want to paint to come true.
You can thank us by following your heart and joining in the game.
Our mediums are skin and stone and soil and silk, spices, sound and soul and words, easy words, but their course runs red, the spectrum, tipping the scales from end to end.
Adventurers. Explorers. Curious like George. 'Nuff said.
If you're going to call me an artist, I wish you'd reserve the tone of irony and take away your mental finger quotation marks. I'll go on doing what I do but you'll be stuck in a narrow world ||.
If you're going to call us artists, believe in our dependability, in our dedication. Until that afternoon where I say fuck it and go on a whiskey and weed whim because our art needs to get a little high too.
You can thank us at the other end.
Because as an artist, my finest trick is escape, and I've made it my art to come back from the brink and bring it better, as my own worst enemy nothing the world will throw at me can keep me down longer than it took to realize I'm my own best friend. That is to say, not long at all.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I roll the dice because he who takes the risk gets the return, but only idiots risk the vessel of their own lives. i.e. you've got to treat your mind and body right.
As an artist you must understand I insist on my own rules, because I'm just crazy like that.
And you can call me an artist because another artist's music just told me not to blister my heels running in the dark as I finished justifying my destructive potentials -- and I heard it because artists are the best of listeners.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I secretly want to be a beacon of hope and light for everyone I come in contact with because it makes me feel stronger, needed, fulfilled in purpose. But sometimes my sensitivity shuts me down when I get the sense someone doesn't like me.
You should know that as a creator, I tend on the side of quiet observer and recorder, judgment taste-maker.
If you're going to call me an artist and make me bigger than myself, you better be ready to give me space as the quiet side will become oh so loud because my voice when heard travels at the speed of light-sound and your attention is my heroin, it helps smooth the wheels of this world we're artists in.
And an artist will be the first one up at dawn when the craft comes to call with a fresh pair on, turning it out to fill the day's plate at the life buffet.
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know nothing you can try to sell me will touch what I can make with my own two.
If you want what I emanate you're going to have to pay. An energetic exchange. Fall in line with the magic and your concern with a rate of return will vanish while the frequency gets magnetic.
It's the 21st century and yeah, we give it away for $free$ but artists have to be about our business, man.
We don't know when or how the lines got blurred between art and commerce but we know people like Rubens and Koons are playing the same game. Yes, 'are', because if you're going to call me an artist you should know that I will live forever in the present moment whether or not you hear me, my art brings it to square one and that's the shit I'm on.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know that your labels are what we hate the most because in our worlds, only we want to get to say what's what. You should realize at times we have trouble reconciling the should, and is, and how it was intended, fa real.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know that's part of my plan, to smooth out the work and let it go, all at once and when I get there you will understand a few years later while I'm on to the next one.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I live in 3D times three, get your glasses made by one of us so you can really see............................................
If you're going to call us artists, you should know that the shittiest day can -- nay, will, be turned around by a stroke of genius, creation.
We will travel high and low for the thrills and we will always come back home to the responsibility we have to the race (if we don't die of the wrong chase).
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know my sources are untraceable because they belong to no one, they belong to everyone and yet, if you're going to call me an artist, you should know you might not be seeing the same picture as me and the invisible army in my head.
Armed by their brushes and cameras and instruments of all shapes and sizes, timbres and tones, colors and clarities -- the diamond mine of an artist can be rent at noon and full by sunrise, overflowing with the beauty of a border-free sky.
If you're going to call us artists, never underestimate our ability to fill your senses with forgettable short-term memories that leave their permanent traces upon your actual lives, the choices you make, the friends you pursue, the new pictures your mind might want to paint to come true.
You can thank us by following your heart and joining in the game.
Our mediums are skin and stone and soil and silk, spices, sound and soul and words, easy words, but their course runs red, the spectrum, tipping the scales from end to end.
Adventurers. Explorers. Curious like George. 'Nuff said.
If you're going to call me an artist, I wish you'd reserve the tone of irony and take away your mental finger quotation marks. I'll go on doing what I do but you'll be stuck in a narrow world ||.
If you're going to call us artists, believe in our dependability, in our dedication. Until that afternoon where I say fuck it and go on a whiskey and weed whim because our art needs to get a little high too.
You can thank us at the other end.
Because as an artist, my finest trick is escape, and I've made it my art to come back from the brink and bring it better, as my own worst enemy nothing the world will throw at me can keep me down longer than it took to realize I'm my own best friend. That is to say, not long at all.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I roll the dice because he who takes the risk gets the return, but only idiots risk the vessel of their own lives. i.e. you've got to treat your mind and body right.
As an artist you must understand I insist on my own rules, because I'm just crazy like that.
And you can call me an artist because another artist's music just told me not to blister my heels running in the dark as I finished justifying my destructive potentials -- and I heard it because artists are the best of listeners.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I secretly want to be a beacon of hope and light for everyone I come in contact with because it makes me feel stronger, needed, fulfilled in purpose. But sometimes my sensitivity shuts me down when I get the sense someone doesn't like me.
You should know that as a creator, I tend on the side of quiet observer and recorder, judgment taste-maker.
If you're going to call me an artist and make me bigger than myself, you better be ready to give me space as the quiet side will become oh so loud because my voice when heard travels at the speed of light-sound and your attention is my heroin, it helps smooth the wheels of this world we're artists in.
And an artist will be the first one up at dawn when the craft comes to call with a fresh pair on, turning it out to fill the day's plate at the life buffet.
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know nothing you can try to sell me will touch what I can make with my own two.
If you want what I emanate you're going to have to pay. An energetic exchange. Fall in line with the magic and your concern with a rate of return will vanish while the frequency gets magnetic.
It's the 21st century and yeah, we give it away for $free$ but artists have to be about our business, man.
We don't know when or how the lines got blurred between art and commerce but we know people like Rubens and Koons are playing the same game. Yes, 'are', because if you're going to call me an artist you should know that I will live forever in the present moment whether or not you hear me, my art brings it to square one and that's the shit I'm on.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know that your labels are what we hate the most because in our worlds, only we want to get to say what's what. You should realize at times we have trouble reconciling the should, and is, and how it was intended, fa real.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know that's part of my plan, to smooth out the work and let it go, all at once and when I get there you will understand a few years later while I'm on to the next one.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I live in 3D times three, get your glasses made by one of us so you can really see............................................
I usually don't admit these kinds of things on the internets but...
Her name is
Her name is
You've been lying to yourself
and then you find the tiny trap door that lets you out
and nothing's changed
and everything seems the same
but inside, you found it again
that sword was unsheathed
and it cut away at all the bullshit
and you could breathe again
and that's all that really mattered
not him or him or her or him or him or her
not this or that or what they think or oh, god what's next
no
none of it.
and things could be what they were without your approval
or attention or
control.
and yeah, you still have to wake up in a place that's maybe not 100% your dream situation
and yeah, those bills still call at you from wherever they are
and yeah, you better never relax too much because your grind might just slip under someone else's saddle
but -- you're cool with it
and then you take off your cool
and we're back where we started...
ever feel like..............
and then you find the tiny trap door that lets you out
and nothing's changed
and everything seems the same
but inside, you found it again
that sword was unsheathed
and it cut away at all the bullshit
and you could breathe again
and that's all that really mattered
not him or him or her or him or him or her
not this or that or what they think or oh, god what's next
no
none of it.
and things could be what they were without your approval
or attention or
control.
and yeah, you still have to wake up in a place that's maybe not 100% your dream situation
and yeah, those bills still call at you from wherever they are
and yeah, you better never relax too much because your grind might just slip under someone else's saddle
but -- you're cool with it
and then you take off your cool
and we're back where we started...
ever feel like..............
wishing i could conjure up / really feel
that kind of blind-in-the-eyes-love people have for this city,
that kind of blind-in-the-eyes-love people have for this city,
so that it's fresh and not
this side of green.
am i missing something?
am i jaded?
stained by a different sense-memory of beauty
indelibly
movable
maybe i just need to fall in love
