1:05 PM Edit This 0 Comments »
why are people mean?
7:47 AM Edit This 0 Comments »
I want to weave words into visions. I want to create worlds. I don't care what that means.
Question
8:15 PM Edit This 0 Comments »
Do you not like people or do you not like actions or is there no difference?
Burn.
7:16 PM Posted In harry potter , life , Writing Edit This 0 Comments »
Still there are days where my thoughts, like oil, always sit on top waiting for something to light them. I want to burn. (I'm an ocean and I'm writing out storms full of lightening.)
I made this picture quick on adobe yesterday. I like the idea behind it, but I'm not sure if I actually like the picture itself.
Anyways, I have nothing real important to say except that I'm racing through Harry Potter to recap the past 6 books. I'm kind of sad it's going to end.
As a writer, I wonder what's better to write: a symphony or a one hit wonder. The first clearly has more behind it than another, but the second reaches millions of people and could potentially be moving.
Is it as simple as quality vs. quantity?
je ne sais pas.
Anyways, I have a fever.
Bed.
xo.
When Growing Up Was Easy
5:04 PM Posted In friendship , life , Love , Music , poetry , summer Edit This 1 Comment »I remember the time
We were down by the lake
In the dark–
The hot heat smothering us
The night stars settling us–
With our friends, your family,
And we were all together
And we were all together
But somewhere in the moments
You and I were alone.
Alone in our voices.
Alone in our thoughts.
You would sing the ABC’s
And I would sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
Till you got to ‘QRS’
Where I’d subconsciously forget my role
And sing your lines instead.
We’d laugh.
We’d laugh.
We could tell the tune was the same
But we kept singing it,
Kept messing it up,
Kept laughing.
Because everyone was around us
But in those moments
We were utterly alone.
Post Script
8:27 PM Edit This 1 Comment »
p.s. The last three weeks have been so full of happiness. My life is over-flowing with amazing graces. Every time I think I've hit the high point something new comes along to make it better.
30 pages into my new novel. still have no idea where this character is taking me. still don't like how much mingles in and out of the past. my fingers hit the keyboard and magic pops out. I only have three characters and a really loose premise. It's enough for now.
xo.
30 pages into my new novel. still have no idea where this character is taking me. still don't like how much mingles in and out of the past. my fingers hit the keyboard and magic pops out. I only have three characters and a really loose premise. It's enough for now.
xo.
It's Undeniable How Brilliant You Are
8:16 PM Posted In life , on the run , people , time Edit This 0 Comments »
I have rain on my shoes. (I'm watering gardens everywhere I walk.) I wish I could go back to that time when I had this unshakable faith in people. Being a little kid sure was great. I want to go back to the days when I knew I could fly. Things change and the same way gravity let me fall is the same way people do now. It's weird to think about. I don't really get angry ever any more, but what you said hurt her and so I got a little sad. It's weird how people can't handle the most simple of interactions.
I think what I hate the most is how everyone you meet asks you how you are, but no one really wants the truth. We all want the polished answer. We want to know that you're ok so that we can be ok. Because life's a circle and it always loops around when your least expecting it, so you better surround yourself with people who've got it figured out. I don't know why this would bother me, people asking how I am, because, in general, I'm quite happy.
I guess what I hate is that it sort of gleans over compassion. Asking someone "how are you" while you walk by them doesn't exactly invite an honest response. But a lot of this world (I'm learning) doesn't live honestly. Truth is no longer currency. It's been short-changed for something cheaper, faster, quicker.
Everyone is always rushing about, but I still haven't figure out why.
I need to go to sleep.
My eyes are shut and I'm typing blind.
More on this later.
I think what I hate the most is how everyone you meet asks you how you are, but no one really wants the truth. We all want the polished answer. We want to know that you're ok so that we can be ok. Because life's a circle and it always loops around when your least expecting it, so you better surround yourself with people who've got it figured out. I don't know why this would bother me, people asking how I am, because, in general, I'm quite happy.
I guess what I hate is that it sort of gleans over compassion. Asking someone "how are you" while you walk by them doesn't exactly invite an honest response. But a lot of this world (I'm learning) doesn't live honestly. Truth is no longer currency. It's been short-changed for something cheaper, faster, quicker.
Everyone is always rushing about, but I still haven't figure out why.
I need to go to sleep.
My eyes are shut and I'm typing blind.
"Singing This Will Be The Day That I Die"
5:51 PM Posted In Golden , life , on the run Edit This 0 Comments »
Life runs in marathons and I'm building up my endurance. Sprint. Run. Sprint. Run. Sometimes the inertia gets going and you find your phone always off the hook, your mind always on the road.
I've been so busy I've been speaking thoughts into machines just so one day they'll get written down. The tape player speaks back to me and I'm surprised its my own voice voicing words that I captured floating out in the air and put down onto a magnetic strip that will play out that will pay out onto paper when I have the time to find a little room to breathe and hold a pen again:
I've been so busy I've been speaking thoughts into machines just so one day they'll get written down. The tape player speaks back to me and I'm surprised its my own voice voicing words that I captured floating out in the air and put down onto a magnetic strip that will play out that will pay out onto paper when I have the time to find a little room to breathe and hold a pen again:
When I open my mouth I want God to flow out.
I want to cry poems when tears drip out
so letters leave ink stains in the tails of their wake.
I've got a novel scrawled across the whole of my face....
I am thinking in movie screen fragments. I can see a thousand generations sprawled across my mind. The grave gets grass grown over and then up goes a tree with leaves greener than those in the Garden of Eden. Our children settle in under for some shade. Leaves fall, thunder storms come in, buds sprout, start it over again.
The circle of life is a record where the music never gets old.
It's time to go do some reading.
I'm out.
Escape?
12:30 AM Posted In alcohol , Alone , Confusion , drugs , life , thinking Edit This 0 Comments »
I don't understand why people aren't enough. Everyone keeps coming up to me and telling me their latest story and it always revolves around pot or booze. I don't understand why you need to alter the world to enjoy it or how altering it allows you to enjoy it more.
I find the whole thing leaves a strange taste in my mouth.
I don't care what people do. I guess I just find it sad that everything disolves into a simple quest whose end goal is altering reality. And I can't say I'm guilt-free either. But just because you do something, doesn't mean you understand the actions behind it. Maybe the whole reason I did it was to see if I could understand.
I don't know.
I'm pretty tired of people saying one thing and doing another. (myself included). I don't understand the hype surrounding alcohol and drugs and I don't think I ever will.
All I get is more questions: what are you escaping from and where are you escaping too? why do you need to escape? can you really outrun whatever it is your trying to shake? Or are you merely succumbing to peer pressure (guilty) curious to see what the "rage" is (guilty, again).
I just want people to be ok with hanging out and not want anything more.
I just want people to live life and be satisfied.
I keep trying not to make assumptions about why people do things, and so far I haven't. But sometimes I wonder if all this is so popular because we're all trying to leave so much behind. We all have our invisible suitcases that we're lugging around. Or maybe people really aren't happy with their lives or maybe their searching for some deeper meaning. Maybe it's popular simply because its something to do.
I don't know.
Maybe I'm weird always looking for a deeper meaning, but I want to understand.
What is our obsession with changing how we see the world? Via drugs or alcohol.
And has this obsession risen up because the world we've created a world (as a community) that must change, but we don't know how to change it or have we created (individually) worlds we need to escape from? Or is it some bizarre combination of both.
Sometimes I think our independence kills us because too much of it turns into isolation. I read somewhere that most people don't even know the names of all their neighbors and I actually believe that. I only loosely know mine. And when you think how important your home is, don't you think the people who neighbor your home, your resting place, would at least be of some interest to you?
I don't know.
I think too much and it's late again.
I find the whole thing leaves a strange taste in my mouth.
I don't care what people do. I guess I just find it sad that everything disolves into a simple quest whose end goal is altering reality. And I can't say I'm guilt-free either. But just because you do something, doesn't mean you understand the actions behind it. Maybe the whole reason I did it was to see if I could understand.
I don't know.
I'm pretty tired of people saying one thing and doing another. (myself included). I don't understand the hype surrounding alcohol and drugs and I don't think I ever will.
All I get is more questions: what are you escaping from and where are you escaping too? why do you need to escape? can you really outrun whatever it is your trying to shake? Or are you merely succumbing to peer pressure (guilty) curious to see what the "rage" is (guilty, again).
I just want people to be ok with hanging out and not want anything more.
I just want people to live life and be satisfied.
I keep trying not to make assumptions about why people do things, and so far I haven't. But sometimes I wonder if all this is so popular because we're all trying to leave so much behind. We all have our invisible suitcases that we're lugging around. Or maybe people really aren't happy with their lives or maybe their searching for some deeper meaning. Maybe it's popular simply because its something to do.
I don't know.
Maybe I'm weird always looking for a deeper meaning, but I want to understand.
What is our obsession with changing how we see the world? Via drugs or alcohol.
And has this obsession risen up because the world we've created a world (as a community) that must change, but we don't know how to change it or have we created (individually) worlds we need to escape from? Or is it some bizarre combination of both.
Sometimes I think our independence kills us because too much of it turns into isolation. I read somewhere that most people don't even know the names of all their neighbors and I actually believe that. I only loosely know mine. And when you think how important your home is, don't you think the people who neighbor your home, your resting place, would at least be of some interest to you?
I don't know.
I think too much and it's late again.
You Are The World
6:31 PM Posted In God , humanity , life , poetry Edit This 0 Comments »
All of those faces
And you are one of them
(And still you are them all)
Times come and past
These too are you
Sounds and places
The blue hue of the sky
The way night sets on fast,
The brief glow of a firefly
The violence of a hurricane
And the alarming quickness of fire
These too are you.
The view from a mountaintop,
The course a stream takes,
The yellowing of leaves in fall,
All of this is you
And is in you.
The breath in your lungs
The dirt under your fingernails
This is you;
you are the world.
And you are one of them
(And still you are them all)
Times come and past
These too are you
So many pairs of eyes
Looking and seeing and being seen
And you are those too
(One pair and in one all)
Sounds and places
The blue hue of the sky
The way night sets on fast,
The brief glow of a firefly
The violence of a hurricane
And the alarming quickness of fire
These too are you.
The view from a mountaintop,
The course a stream takes,
The yellowing of leaves in fall,
All of this is you
And is in you.
The breath in your lungs
The dirt under your fingernails
This is you;
you are the world.
On Writing
1:52 AM Edit This 0 Comments »Serenity bleeds from my soul
blue seas of blood bulging forth
I, bleed rivers,oceans, and streams
of flowing words
floating acrossan empty page:fluid.
thoughts made tangible
dreams you can hold in your hand,
give away, share -little pieces of infinity
snatched right out of the air.
***
The only curious thing about this piece is the word choice. I don't know if I like pairing "serenity" with "bleeds" as they seem quite contradictory. I guess I'm attempting to capture the fact that writing isn't really a choice. You just sort of do it.
Naked As We Came
5:57 PM Posted In Faith , happy , language , life , moving forward , Music , Writing Edit This 0 Comments »
Lyrics have been lolling through my head on an endless record player. I speak in music because my soul is a song composed by God and I just want to sing of the beauty that is life. I could write a million songs if I just had someone to sing them. I guess that's how it always goes. I'm sorry I have been away for so long. I guess that's a good thing. Sort of.
My pulse is a drum beating to time. My lips two cymbals/symbols like fireworks on the fourth of July screaming "look at me! look at me! Here I am!" Captivating audiences under momentary bursts of flame that stand frozen for a second the fall like the rain...
My heart is a canyon carved by friction and time. The biggest cracks are filled with devotion so that the two opposing sides merge into one. Flow to me. Come to my banks and put your roots in. I'll feed you for ten thousand years and even when the sun is scorching, you my love, will be fine. Living in a reservoir so infinite that you cannot fathom hunger. Hunger. Flow to me lover, come to me and grow with me lover because the river is full and the banks are firm.
A billion words are trying to escape my soul. Like a volcano, my soul erupts in sound and fury and ink. From the end of my pen drip ideas that scurry about on the page alive. I write heartbeats. I guess the main reason my blog has been so empty is because my journal has been so full.
I am a river who's growing and flowing into the future and every person I meet drips into me, refilling and refueling my journey - adding to me so that although we are not one, we become one and though we do not walk the same path, we arrive at the same destination.
I talk to God a lot in the shower. When my hair is wet and my fingers are foamy and the steam rises to rinse the sleep out of my eyes. Everything just rises away in the heat. Everything blurs away in the cold that sometimes seeps in if someone slips into the other shower. And maybe I'm most honest with God when I'm in the shower because I have no clothes to hide behind.
Everywhere I go I feel like he's just saying the same thing. Let go. And it isn't of people or places, but of things. Let go of the money. Renounce it all. And it's strange because I don't think of myself as one who spends money obscenely, I don't spend it all that often even. Rather I feel like I'm just supposed to work and give it away and work and give it away some more. All and all, I like that idea. Except the part where I'm human and I like to be able to do what I want.
You know, I think the greatest flaw of the English language is that we capitalize I but we don't capitalize "you" or "we" which one would think are a great deal more important or at least should be. I think this in itself shows that we are self-centered.
I read about Native American Cultures that, way back when, had never heard of the first person singular. It was never "I." It was never about "I." It was all about "we" and "you" and when I think about that, I think how beautiful life must of been and I wonder if the elimination of the word eliminated the problem.
Is the word "I" a symptom or cause of the disease? je ne sais pas. The thing is, I don't like not capitalizing I because I am human. I like having things look right. I wish this wasn't the case. Maybe I should do it, just to break myself of this annoying tick. I also hate the red squiggly line that pops up whenever I misspell a word.
i am tired. time for bed.
My pulse is a drum beating to time. My lips two cymbals/symbols like fireworks on the fourth of July screaming "look at me! look at me! Here I am!" Captivating audiences under momentary bursts of flame that stand frozen for a second the fall like the rain...
My heart is a canyon carved by friction and time. The biggest cracks are filled with devotion so that the two opposing sides merge into one. Flow to me. Come to my banks and put your roots in. I'll feed you for ten thousand years and even when the sun is scorching, you my love, will be fine. Living in a reservoir so infinite that you cannot fathom hunger. Hunger. Flow to me lover, come to me and grow with me lover because the river is full and the banks are firm.
A billion words are trying to escape my soul. Like a volcano, my soul erupts in sound and fury and ink. From the end of my pen drip ideas that scurry about on the page alive. I write heartbeats. I guess the main reason my blog has been so empty is because my journal has been so full.
I am a river who's growing and flowing into the future and every person I meet drips into me, refilling and refueling my journey - adding to me so that although we are not one, we become one and though we do not walk the same path, we arrive at the same destination.
I talk to God a lot in the shower. When my hair is wet and my fingers are foamy and the steam rises to rinse the sleep out of my eyes. Everything just rises away in the heat. Everything blurs away in the cold that sometimes seeps in if someone slips into the other shower. And maybe I'm most honest with God when I'm in the shower because I have no clothes to hide behind.
Everywhere I go I feel like he's just saying the same thing. Let go. And it isn't of people or places, but of things. Let go of the money. Renounce it all. And it's strange because I don't think of myself as one who spends money obscenely, I don't spend it all that often even. Rather I feel like I'm just supposed to work and give it away and work and give it away some more. All and all, I like that idea. Except the part where I'm human and I like to be able to do what I want.
You know, I think the greatest flaw of the English language is that we capitalize I but we don't capitalize "you" or "we" which one would think are a great deal more important or at least should be. I think this in itself shows that we are self-centered.
I read about Native American Cultures that, way back when, had never heard of the first person singular. It was never "I." It was never about "I." It was all about "we" and "you" and when I think about that, I think how beautiful life must of been and I wonder if the elimination of the word eliminated the problem.
Is the word "I" a symptom or cause of the disease? je ne sais pas. The thing is, I don't like not capitalizing I because I am human. I like having things look right. I wish this wasn't the case. Maybe I should do it, just to break myself of this annoying tick. I also hate the red squiggly line that pops up whenever I misspell a word.
i am tired. time for bed.
