everything

i can be
alone by myself
i was
lonely alone
now i’m lonely
with you
something is wrong
there are flies
everywhere
i go

-Alone, Nikki Giovanni

The first poetry I ever really got into was hers.  Also I will be performing at a poetry reading tonight.  Me and my manly voice up onstage just doesn’t seem like a recipe for a good time.  It’s one of those things you do just so you can say you did it.

ALSO! I am working on a painting for my brother.

 

wwooooh exciting.

Peace/Shanti

Advertisements

acrylics

I had visions of finishing this before fall was over….

😦   didn’t.  but here it is!   this was done with acrylics.  I’m gonna do a huge tree painting next but not sure of the colors yet.  and I have a reallllly good idea of what I’m gonna do after that. or maybe before that.. we’ll see.

 

manifestos

 

http://art-by-doc.deviantart.com/art/Ready-To-Release-The-Shackles-335911497
beautiful works of magic by The Magnetic Fields


and there you are

unconventional enough to
resuscitate my heart

the way you make me feel something like
13 years younger is
uncontrollable, manifested in
how I show you my art like
maybe you’ll tape it to your fridge

I am in complete admiration of
the way you hold adjectives and nouns
captive
mangle them up and sew them together
in a colorful mass of
tangled syntax

and I’m in constant
jaw-dropped
awe

everything you do hits me hard enough to
shatter my communication skills
brain-dead my
inhibitions and (oh now)
I’m a greedy child,
only three words saturating
my veins

mine
mine
mine
——–
something random, I haven’t been writing much lately that’s worth anything.  I had a good weekend.  my Bollywood (or Tollywood I guess they call it when it’s south India) dance for Diwali night went really well.  met someone who has the capacity to make me actually wish I wasn’t single. but I’m sure that will pass.  it always does.

Why Would You Chase Away the Sun if You Don’t Want the Rain?

Lisa Lewis, excerpt from “February”
   This is the second month
Of the year I turn thirty-seven. Already the little fists
Of leaves are forming inside the knotted ends of twigs
All over Houston. The cold weather is over. This winter
Again there was no freeze. And tonight it’s very late,
And it’s Sunday, and no cars pass on the big road
By the house, but out there in the night
Some kids about seventeen are doing terrible things
They’ll get by with, and grow out of, and remember
The way they’ll remember what love felt like at first,
Before it stopped being the surest path to ruination,
Before it had done the worst it could and passed away.
And to them it’s as if those who lived this life before them
Moved with the jerky speeded-up gestures of characters
In old-fashioned movies, their expressions intense
And exaggerated; they roll their eyes and loll their tongues
When the heroin hits their blood. It’s as if the beauty
Of evil lives only in the present, where the drop of dope
Clinging to the tip of the stainless steel point
Catches the light like dew; and it doesn’t matter
That the light falls from a streetlamp with a short in it,
And the impatient boy with the syringe in his hand
Will touch the drop back into the spoon
So as not to waste it. It’s his instinct telling him
How much it means to live this now, before he knows
Better, while he still has a chance to survive it.
It’s the moon over his head with its polished horns
That would slip through his skin if he touched them.
It’s the trees leaping to life in his blood, greenness
Unfurling so hard it almost bursts his heart. 
 
————————————————————
I have never done heroin.  It is doubtful that I ever will.  When you think about it, I haven’t really had much experience with pretty much anything.  I haven’t seen The Titanic (The Titanic is very similar to heroin so’s you know)
I’m still young enough that I have it in me to do incredibly stupid things.   I guess age is relative anyways.  I love feeling young.  It’s almost worth not being old enough to go out dancing.  Speaking of getting old, and not having experiences, I have never been full-on drunk.  The few times I have had l’alcool, I drink so little it doesn’t do anything and there is really no point.  I just don’t like how alcohol makes me feel stupid and slow.  I have no conversational skills and I don’t get less inhibited, just confused and self conscious.  Of course I generally have enough self-confidence to fill arenas, so it’s not like drinking could really improve anything per se.
Basically.  It’s five in the morning and I can’t sleep.  Here’s some random crap that you can read I suppose.  Goodness I have poor writing skills at this time in the morning.  DON’T HATE THIS IS MY BLOG NOT A FREAKING RESEARCH PAPER.
This title and yesterday’s are from Atmosphere songs.  (gearing up for the concert in a couple of weeks) 
 
 Waterside by =AnnMarieBone of deviantart.com
 
 haven’t seen, haven’t seemed
happy, it’s gonna come to me
when it does I don’t know where I’ll
keep it at all 

I’ll make you smile just so I can sit and look at it

so there’s this website  called least helpful.

hilarious.

http://leasthelpful.com/post/27625224383/with-a-vague-title-like-that-you-can-hardly-blame

http://leasthelpful.com/post/28626644372/kinda-sad-that-you-cant-even-trust-an-angel-that

http://leasthelpful.com/post/27480024159/yeah-what-kind-of-socialist-secret-muslim

————————————–
hey yeah so autumn is coming… excited yet?
 
artsaus – deviantart.com

stars that clear have been dead for years but the idea just lives on

I’ve been sleeping so strange at night
side effects they don’t advertise
I’ve been sleeping so strange
with a head full of pesticide
-Bright Eyes

style=”background-color:black;clear:both;text-align:center;”>

Feast your eyes on the very first painting I have ever done. Ever.  It makes me ridiculously happy. and it didn’t take a whole lot of talent so that’s good because that kinda thing is limited…
So I was reading old journal entries since I have them all over my desktop.  I clicked on September.  Goodness I was an obsessive person.  I wrote like 3 pages on “that dude who broke into my house” also known as “the guy I was obsessed with for exactly one week” and let me tell you, the things I wrote are hilarious.  At least to me anyways.  Take this little gem….
“I can’t believe the turn my life has taken and I absolutely love it. So. Much. My heart and stomach are conspiring against me in anticipation of your phone call in ways I didn’t know they could. Knots, butterflies, the works. I wouldn’t be surprised to find gears or an ocean in there either. When I see you I light up. I wanna be pursued. And if I’m not mistaken, that is exactly what is happening here..”
or how about this
“And stupid or not, the world hasn’t been the same since I met him. I finally found someone. Whether I’m capable of keeping him or not remains to be seen.”
HAHAHAHAH I write like a thirteen year old girl.  Less than a week later:
“I come out of my room, and I’m just like, “why are you in here, HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HOUSE??” and he’s like, well I just opened the door, and came in, how else? And I started freaking out. I ran downstairs and into the bathroom, turned on the fan and started brushing my teeth”
I love the ending.  I don’t know why I added in that I brushed my teeth.  I think what happened was I was in there for a long time and then I figured I may as well make the best of my time.  did I mention that all the doors were locked?  What a creepy person.  He was attractive though.