DONE. In your face, Yellow.

Yellow

Old veins
Curling fingers present and ready
Vacant expression

The crunch
Malicious and humored
Timed and practiced

I remember my first
How he tugged on my shoulder
Showed me
Taught me
How to bring resolution to something lingering on man’s earth
Glowing faintly against the slate
Pressed into dust by the sharp snap of a heel

Shattered by force in a matter of seconds
And in the wind
Fragmented and cracked
It floated away
Like innocence had been present to witness.

In the words of Against Me!: This Shit Rules.

I’m almost out
Two thousand people
Three thousand people
And they all smell like cardboard.

___________________________________________________

 

Classes have started up again.
They’re looking alright so far.
I’ve already met some cool people. Shouldn’t be too terrible.
___________________________________________________

I had a dream last night where I was standing outside somewhere.
I had a cat named Baron.
He was black and fluffy.
I must have been in my mid to late twenties.
Someone was calling me back inside to turn off the faucet I had apparently left on.

Inside there were panels on the wall.
It looked like they were covered in different colored pens.
Writing all over it.
Like something you would jot things down on if you had an idea when you passed it.
It was pretty neat.
___________________________________________________

Mom just informed me last night that her and dad had been planning on giving me $15,000 for whenever I buy a house. Plus, another $8,000 when I graduate with my BA.

Wtf. Nice.

I should probably hop on getting a job soon. I’m starting to want more money again.
Things are looking up for sure.
For some reason. I always seem to have exactly what I need when I need it.

Blah, blah, blah. I talk it to death. I know.

I think it’s interesting that one of my favorite things in the world also happens to be a symbol for the thing I dislike the most in our world.

I hate cities. All the industry. All the pollution. All the corruption.
But I love graffiti. I love the styles. The colors. The messages.
Sticker graffiti.
Stencil graffiti.
Lettering.
You name it.

It’s like the people’s art. You know? I think it makes the city more bearable.
You don’t have to be good at it. You just have to want to express yourself.
I spent whole summers in high school tagging my favorite spot to write.
Half the graffiti was my writing.
My thoughts. Statements. Colors that made me feel a certain way.
Words I wanted to share.
The spot I picked had meaning to me. This old, molding, rotting gazebo.
It was perfect.
After I started my project inside. Every time I came back other people had added onto it.
People were writing wishes. Song lyrics. Whatever.
And it was beautiful.
An anonymous display of art in public.

I’ve been messing around with paint again lately.
Just some flat black and white dad had laying around in the garage.
____________________________________

I want to write something.
Like.
With the words “Cinematics” and “Arbitrary”
Not near each other, of course.
I’ve got something in my head.
It just doesn’t want to hatch.

I can see it.
But I don’t have the words.
Annoying.

You can never really see the top from the bottom.

Clearly there is something wrong with me.

I feel retarded.
I’m so fucking in love.

Like. Really.
It’s a little ridiculous.
It’s a lot ridiculous, actually.

I mean. Usual logic isn’t really applicable.

My friends could be talking about the hottest most obviously attractive person.
And I can agree with what they’re saying and all.
And I can be like “Woo. She’s hot.”

But if you put the girl I love next to that person.
They don’t even fucking matter at all.
I’d still jump their shit.
But like.
They don’t matter like she does.
You know?

I could look for flaws.
But anything I found would just be endearing.
It’s so strange to feel that way.
To just care for someone like that.
To think they’re beautiful even when they’re sick.
Or mad.
Or exhausted.

To want to protect and take care of someone.
Give them things.
Make them laugh.
It’s all kind of fascinating.

And I don’t even care. Whatever. It is what it is.
Fighting it is just annoying.
I’d rather own up to it.
I’d really like to be done analyzing it.
Sometimes things just happen and they don’t make sense.
And feelings start and end when they’re meant to.
So I’m going to stop trying to force things and just feel what I feel.

Missy Higgins

I will see your sexy Australian ass at The Warfield November 13th.

I’m jumping on those tickets as soon as pre-sale opens.

I like not answering my phone.

Instead of writing a post about how angry I am, and feeding my own negativity-

I’m going to simply say:
I am thankful for select people I have in my life.

I had an amazing day yesterday.
And I’m going to say today was awesome too.
I’m completely voiding out anything that might have made me uncomfortable tonight.

Life is what you make of it, right?

Also, on a side note.
I’ve been feeling very spiritually connected to…something.
My energy is more predictable, and for that, I feel centered.
I’m happy about that.

:]

And that’s not nearly all.

amidst
b
conflict
d
e
f
g
h
inner
j
k
l
m
n
o
peace
q
requires
strength
t
u
v
w
x
y
z

Purple.

The feeling of timelessness crept next to me
I foresaw the mercy being shown

Pressed my eyelids shut in thanks

Watching the individual lashes link together instead of fight for dominance
The sound of fibers meshing together soothing me like waterflow
Mind growing comfortably heavy as if in trance.

Today I am introduced to the Ink Keeper
Kind and sage, body swaddled in ancient lines of text
I bow my head in respect
Shuddering as his fingers press into my spine
Filling my body with a deep shimmering pigment

Today the land beckons me closer instead of creeping away
As isolation begins to frame itself as myth.

_______________________________________________

Imogen does it again.

Her song Oh Me, Oh My describes me perfectly right now.

Perfectly.
Holy shit.

I need one.

Green v2.

Green

The relic was cracked upon arrival
The center jewel eyed them suspiciously

Like they were children starving to see the forest
Hopelessly obsessed with the tales of old

Little hands pried frantically at leafy creases
Not heeding value that was chipped away

Pleading with their hurried whispers
They hoped the winking stone might show them

Exactly what they had been looking for all this time.

___________________________________________

Yeah, definitely a good idea to rewrite this one.
Good game, me.