friendly&flowing savage

The days keep rolling.

From the squinting of your eyes back to the sounds of your snores.

Sometimes I feel like I am apart of every single moment of every single day.  Somehow engulfed in the stand-still time watching as the leaves play mistress to the cold sidewalk and the flowers cower in fear of the wind's ferocious roar.  I watch my breath in slow motion right before my very eyes with every breath, lingering like smoke of cigarette in a cramped corner of a library, nose buried in a book hoping that the words of other can somehow help you find your own self.  Find yourself in the midst of the other letters, very similar to the "sip&solve" word search I've been religious burying myself into.  Any time is appropriate; wether it's in bed trying to warm my knees & toes or in line waiting for warm soup to blanket my stomach with nutrition and my tongue with a savor that will surely make it salivate on the pages.

I started a task "x" amount of days ago.  I say "x" because I'm actually not really sure how many days ago it was.  The subject of the task makes me feel like weeks have passed but it's just been mere days.   My task was to not read for a week.  When I was first introduced to this task I thought it was really going to be a piece of cake.  & then I realized how much I read, how much time I spend with my nose sniffing the binding of a good book.  The absence of reading meant more "quietude' , more letter writing, more time to finish that painting I've been working on, more this, more that.  & yet, despite my efforts and sheer determination I found that all my free time was being spent wishing I was reading, buying books, or receiving books in the mail by authors that I've been DYING to read.

"Leaves of Grass" by Walt Whitman sits by my side, the cover bearing it's own story of eyes treasures, souls nourished.  & yet, I've only managed to skim quickly through the pages.  I'm only tempting myself, seeing how far I can go without breaking.  Sometimes I find myself envious of the words formed in another's mind, so taken back, and scrambling to find my breath in paragraphs of eloquent thoughts & fearless ideas.  I find myself dog paddling in a story so deep, I'm sure I might drown if I put the book down.  So entranced by a book that as my eyes eat each letter, chew each  word, and swallow each sentence, their is a ring of truth in what I'm reading & I swear I can hear my heart beating without the points of pressure.

eighteen fifty-five

"I am  not blind to the worth of the wonderful gift of "Leaves of Grass."  I find it the most extraordinary piece of wit & wisdom that America has yet contributed.  I am very happy in reading it, as great power makes us happy.  It meets the demand I am always making of what seemed the sterile & stingy nature, as if too much handiwork or too much lymph in the temperament were making our western wits fat & mean.  I give you joy of your free & brave thought.  I have great joy in it.  I find incomparable things said incomparably well, as they must be.  I find the courage of treatment, which so delights us, & which large perception only can inspire.  I greet you at the beginning of a great career, which yet must have had a long fore-ground somewhere, for such a start.  I rubbed my eyes a little to see if this sunbeam were no illusion; but the solid sense of the book is a sober certainty..."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson's letter to Walt Whitman

This sums it up for me in more ways than one.

My creative well is currently malnourished and drinking droplets of water from the cracks in it's walls.

However, these words from two equally great men just put me in knee-deep water.

Keep your television on mute.

The silence is sure to make a beautiful sound.

knees&toes

9 hours & 30 mintues until the first time I felt the warmth of my mother's arms.
9 hours & 30 minutes until the first time I gazed at my father.
9 hours & 30 minutes until my sister officially named me.

These are the moments I cherish. Not cake,theatrics, or balloons (especially not balloons).

My skin & bones are 20 years old. However, my soul is timeless,ageless, and unapologetically extravagant.

Goodnight.

so-so junction

Today​ the sky welco​mes us with a grey hello​.​

The sun has succu​mbed to the winte​r air and has falle​n aslee​p benea​th the feath​ery goodn​ess of the mist and cloud​s.​ I miss her in these​ times​.​ Even thoug​h I know bette​r I keep askin​g mysel​f in my head,​"​Is it over yet?​"​ Is the spect​rum of the color​ grey tired​ enoug​h to reclu​se back to it's bed. I'd take the clear​ black sky over this.​ I would​ fall aslee​p ignor​ing the fact that the stars​ are off hiking in anoth​er galax​y,​ they are anywh​ere but right​ here,​ above​ my house​.​ 

I just finis​hed a 700 hundr​ed page book in 4 or less hours​.​ I wasn'​t lying​ when I told you I was burie​d in a sea of pages​,​ surel​y I was dog paddl​ing so I could​ savor​ every​ line,​ every​ image​ that my mind proje​cted into my head.​ I moved​ past the tired​ness of my legs,​ the achin​g of my eyes.​ I was right​ there​ in the clear​,​ a few steps​ away from the depth​s of the ocean​.​ Last night​,​ I force​d mysel​f to enter​tain the idea of sleep​,​ my eyes were screa​ming at me to stop shovi​ng liter​ature​ into it's mouth​ and dim the light​s,​ but I wante​d to keep going​.​ Howev​er,​ the story​ would​ conti​nue in due time.

I keep liste​ning to the same song on repea​t,​ it remin​ds me of previ​ous momen​ts of now with a perso​n that is only close​ to me becau​se he's in my thoug​hts.​ That'​s the close​st he could​ ever be with the excep​tion of the warmt​h of his skin and bones​ vibra​ting in my direc​tion.​ I almos​t fear that level​ of inter​actio​n even thoug​h it's so small​,​ I don'​t wish to give my mind somet​hing to trigger.​ Anoth​er quest​ion that'​s recei​ved no answe​r,​ anoth​er theor​y that has yet to be prove​n.​ Even just recit​ing that with my finge​rtips​ made my stoma​ch turn.​ I'm yet just a serva​nt to the small​ memor​ies and yet these​ memor​ies make me queas​y with discomfort​.​ Or maybe​ just the all aroun​d rejec​tion of indul​ging in anoth​er secon​d of it. With that being​ said,​ I'll conti​nue to look at you lovin​gly and speak​ to you gentl​y until​ the littl​e cloud​ in my mind disap​pears​ and it will soone​r or later​ mimic​ in my real life.​

It all sound​s so sad doesn​'​t it? but it's not. It's the beaut​y of our situa​tion here.​ Almos​t a touch​ and go, if you will.​ I chose​ to feel every​ thing​,​ every​ word,​ every​ feeli​ng,​ every​ emoti​on,​ every​ sente​nce,​ every​ photo​graph​,​ every​ situa​tion,​ every​ usele​ss birth​day I have to exper​ience​,​ every ounce​ of energ​y that surge​s throu​gh my body-​ I chose​ to put it there​.​ I indul​ged in it's sweet​ savor​y goodn​ess and I lay awake​ at night​ with a stoma​ch ache and smirk​ at the resul​ts.​ I find no prefe​rence​,​ no thisi​sm/​thati​sm,​ no end resul​t in the front​ of my mind.​ Simpl​y smirk​ing at the enjoy​ment of all that comes​ in my direc​tion.​  

Almos​t resem​bling​ a mothe​r whose​ spent​ the whole​ day bakin​g in her kitch​en and the minut​e she hears​ their​ laugh​ter she runs outsi​de to greet​ her child​ren,​ regar​dless​ of wethe​r or not her children had a bad day. Someo​ne beaut​iful creat​ed all of this and how can I not be grate​ful for all of it, even the time when I wish the grey would​ wake the sun up inste​ad of letti​ng her hiber​nate throu​gh the rain.​ This is how I chose​ to see thing​s.​ 

I also chose​ to roll my eyes at the last 5 sente​nces my dad has state​d.​ 

These​ skin and bones​ make me shift​ uncom​forta​bly somet​imes but that'​s okay.​ 

Your the only one I love.​

coduroy

The first time that I met you I knew, one day I'd know you better.

When people tried to tell me,"Don't fall for him",

I told them "Don't let them get to you."

p.s the clawfoot

I would also like to live in one of these.

absolutely beautiful things

Very much like this jar of assorted beans of the jelly variety, the sweet savory taste of being one with all of creation is a sure fire fix for my let's-love-because-we-are-all-one craving.

Also very much like these assorted jelly beans we may be different, but we are never divided.

We may have different interests, different friends, even different plays on saying each other's names but we're all made of the same substance. The same jelly like substance that is so good it makes my teeth hurt.

Handing these out to good friends,  new friends, lost friends, new faces, old faces,  and faces I'll never see: it's a pleasure to share this with you.  This situation, this dream, whatever you want to call it.

It's all the same.

You gotta know, you have my heart.

Act IV, Scene II

"Love to faults is always blind, always is to joy inclined. Lawless, winged, and unconfined, and breaks all chains from every mind."  

These are the feelings I chose today:

Sometimes the pounding in my ears feels like my organs knocking. They want to see the way a flower blooms in spring or the way the leaves fall in the birth of autumn. I can feel it surging through me like a circuit breaker about to blow. I keep writing these things and I feel blocked. I try to feel the aliveness in my hands when driving. Try to be the strict parent dragging me out of the day dreams. I cried today while reading a book. I didn't even feel sad but when my eyes shook hands with the line," When I told you I didn't want you, it was the very blackest kind of blasphemy." I could feel myself shaking, the crowd getting louder, racing up my throat, and within seconds there was water. 

I wasn't crying because I wished it was my face held in the hands of the character's beloved Romeo-esque soulmate. Not because I could see it so clearly in my head, the agony in their eyes and the way their love flushed inside their skin. It was because somewhere deep down in my soul, I knew this feeling. It is not a stranger to me. A love so wonderful, so unconditional, so absent of all selfish virtues. This feeling wasn't some stranger that I was hoping to one day meet. No, we were already life long friends. 

What is wrong with me today? People's voices make me feel angry, plans make me feel irritable, and when I get a chance to breathe that familiar pressure in my chest comes back and I'm a solemn serenader waiting for the recipient to cry the feelings that I sing in songs. I'm totally engulfed in the now but I feel the anger blowing bubbles in my blood. Last night I wanted to claw the head from my shoulders for feeling so enclosed in it's sick conditioned boundaries. Julia Cameron was right, I do need support. I'm melting under the heat of the fire but I don't want to quit. I just want to express it, simmer down the anger with the ears to listen. Sometimes being human is suffocating. Especially when you've been awakened to the idea that their is so much more than this "situation." So much more than money, status, and jobs. So much more than what everyone thinks, so much more than that stupid voice inside your head. This feeling shouldn't be insulted with words. I'm neither sad nor depressed. I'm not unappreciative of now or wishing to be somewhere else. Morning pages if your begging for explanation, please just let me vent. I'm sure when this is over I can release myself through tears.  

Like I was saying, Julia Cameron was right, you will need a friend for support. How much I underestimate her. The love that for so many years has sweetened my blood has been stored in my own personal vineyard. What I looked for in 1,000 souls has been right here, ready to drink. I'M NOT WHO I WAS. STOP LABELING ME AND HOLDING ME TO YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT ME. A cap-sized message for all who think their is nothing to know, and for the feeble me who stumbles on the same cobble road time and time again. These are the trials for feet who never fail to stumble upon each other.  Show me beauty, I know it's there. I wish I could rip my eyes out if it meant the conditions would stop. I would burn this skin and break these bones with no moment of regret. 

p.s This whole not wanting to be weak or vulnerable thing is bullshit. Here I am, crumbling under the absent sun. Keep my breath in your mouth, save it for me tomorrow.

how do you do?

Where does all my consciousness go?
Is it all spent with the horrible dreams I've been having lately?
Where did all the internal joy go? Why don't I feel it anymore?
I'm again looking for a place to escape to. Well, I guess all I'm really looking for is a well packed suitcase and an endless amount of travel tickets. I could get that all for myself, right now. I don't have to be a worn-out musician whose paid their dues for 15+ years and finally just got everyone to pay attention.

A good thing to ask yourself," If not NOW, when?"

I have a strong desire to love the now, embrace it, sing it's praises. Realize that it's the only real time. It's not yesterday or 10 years from now. Their is only right now and living my life through incessant wants for the "future" have left me an empty hollow shell, still wishing, still waiting, and still coming home, unfulfilled. I don't want to think about tomorrow. I barely want to think about two minutes from now. It's not that I don't care but I don't want to be apart of this world, no more than I need to in order to function. I know the end of that story. The desires for the tomorrows becomes unbearable and everyday feels like a poison. A venom to the dreams I've established. Dreams that I made into my identity and not living them makes my bones ache and my heart sick. The doctors should call it a cancer to the body. Actually, it probably is already a cancer to the body, just pick a name you probably can't pronounce.

Because sometimes it hurt to breathe, it was too much to even get out of my bed. I don't want to live life like that anymore. Why in our society can we not travel more freely? As if we don't give ourselves enough extra baggage through our worries, stresses, and human-assorted problems. Now everyone else has more for the burden; mortgages, rent, insurance, license renewal, visas! Why can't we just do things out of love? Build, grow, learn, remember all from that seed. That is our nature to do so and yet we fight it so forcefully.
We have spent eons running away from our true nature.
What if I don't want to spend another second, another minute, another day doing so? I may be poor, be nothing to the terms of the unconscious world, but to myself I will be rich, be full, be powered by the surge of creative energy. I don't need bestsellers, platinum-albums, or screamers of adoration.
I just need me. I just need you. I just need the trees. I just need love. Everything is so polluted with our "humans" mistake. When do we finally see out of it? When do we finally get tired of being greedy, being vain, being "better"? When do we finally getting tired of the sleeping in the plush sheets of misery? When do we step out of bed to greet the sun's warm and her sweet smile? Step out of what society tells us to be? STEP OUTSIDE OF OUR OWN MINDS? When will the whole world just be out of their minds. 

Dissolving labels, stereotypes, division, wars, common indecency to fellow beings so you stop doing your job through gritted teeth.

Bring it to the front. Stop obsessing over weight or when you'll find that someone.
YOUR that someone. Now go be it for someone else, then they'll be it for someone else.
Maybe then this situation can thrive on it's purpose.
it will then start to be seen as a miracle and not just a bad dream that we just can't wake up from.