if only i created a tenth as much media as i consumer

we create our own confines

"On this bridge, Lorca warns: “Life is not a dream, beware!… and beware!……and beware.” And so many think because then happened, now isn’t. But didn’t I mention? the ongoing *WOW* is happening right now. We are all co-authors of this dancing exuberance, for even our inabilities are having a roast. We are the authors of ourselves, co-authoring a gigantic Dostoevsky novel starring clowns. This entire thing we’re involved with called the world is an opportunity to exhibit how exciting alienation can be. Life is a matter of a miracle that is collected over time by moments flabbergasted to be in each others’ presence. The world is an exam, to see if we can rise into the direct experiences. Our eyesight is here as a test, to see if we can see beyond it. Matter is here as a test for our curiosity. Doubt is here as an exam for our vitality. Thomas Mann wrote that he would rather participate in life than write a hundred stories. Giacometti was once run down by a car, and he recalled falling into a lucid faint - a sudden exhiliration as he realized at last, something was happening to him. An assumption developed that you cannot understand life and live life simultaneously. I do not agree entirely, which is to say, I do not exactly disagree. I would say that life understood is life lived. But, the paradoxes bug me, and I can learn to love and make love to the paradoxes that bug me, and on really romantic evenings of self, I go salsa dancing with my confusion. Before you drift off, don’t forget, which is to say remember, because remembering is so much more a psychotic activity than forgeting: Lorca, in that same poem, said that the Iguana will bite those who do not dream, and as one realizes that one is a dream figure in another person’s dream….that is self-awareness!"

Waking Life

weeping angel

"What if we had ideas that could think for themselves? What if one day our dreams no longer needed us? When these things occur and are held to be true, the time will be upon us; the time of angels."

So Rebecca and I were talking about life--her life--at kid's corral one night and this cat hops over to us. The thing refused to go away or bury itself or die, and we had to lower our voice so that it wouldn't hear our secrets. I have to admit if you can't already tell--I have no interest in irl cats, just lolcats. I prefer my cute kittens making strange faces with cheap yet lulzy, misspled yet humorous captions. But this one seemed to long for company, for real human connections--a desire I can understand/relate to/sympathize with. Thus he became out companion for the eve. We named it "weeping angel", inspired by the monsters from Doctor Who that are stone when you looks at them, but quickly move towards you to kill you when you turn away.

broken shoot

I understand you're thinking something like "why are you recreating the strawberry fields forever scene from Across the Universe?" but you must understand that I'm thinking something like "I hope they're not reminded of that scene from Across the Universe because that's sort of what I'm thinking even though this is just the Chinese decorated bowl I used to eat ramen in full of the tiny strawberries my dad/mom grows in the garden that my mom does all the work in knocked onto the ground by my dad accidentally who then asked me to clean it up. I of course had to do a photo shoot before the clean up. This would be so much better if I had some naked boy model to rub the strawberries on and photograph..."
It gets a bit obscene from there.

daisy

i'm a mountain that has been moved
i'm a river that is all dried up
i'm an ocean nothing floats on
i'm a sky that nothing wants to fly in
i'm a sun that doesn't burn hot
i'm a moon that never shows it face
i'm a mouth that doesn't smile
i'm a word that no one ever wants to say

Admonition

Sylvia Plath

Admonition

If you dissect a bird
To diagram the tongue
You'll cut the chord
Articulating song.

If you flay a beast
To marvel at the mane
You'll wreck the rest
From which the fur began.

If you pluck out the heart
To find what makes it move,
You'll halt the clock
That syncopates our love.

wolves with laser eyes [3OH!3]

Becky Powers

I used to tell people that my (family) dog and I had an unusual relationship. One of mutual respect, regard, and indifference. She never gave me attention so I never gave her any. We acknowledged each other in passing--we would nod "sup" as we grazed each other in the hallway.
Now I realize it's not a cost/benefit situation and it shouldn't be about reciprocation. In her old age, I see Becky trudge around the house with a pained, wise, all-knowing gaze; and yet she still exists innocent of so much. Though she doesn't look it, she is getting older and closer to the end. Sympathy, methinks.

Parts of me liked who I used to be

I drew this of myself in 9th/10thish grade. I can't even tell.
I love going through old sketch books and seeing who I was artistically.
It seems like back then I actually had a purpose. I did a lot of figure sketching of that led to Harry Potter drawings (inspired by book 7) and Ragnarok fan pictures. Now all I create is revisions of my dreams.

Miss Delaney

I was overjoyed to recieve this puzzle in the mail the other day. I absolutely adore this girl.
And now I'm trying to work on something to send back. We'll see how that goes...

my top ten favorite pokemon+some

ugh

and there's that feeling of after-writing-remorse/disgust. in that way, writing is kind of like masturbation.

bare

This thought has been in my cranium for quite awhile. I have been thoughtfully thinking this thought since Thursday--but long before that this thought was a feeling felt. And of course I may only present the thought as a theatrical theme, a thick theory, a thin thread to track to a throng of thought thuggery and the like, thereof thrusting the throbbing thrill of this thought into your...brain. Thus follow the throughway, and don't thwart my thirst; thereupon you may come to think this prologue isn't a threat, just a thought.

(Silly intros aside) So I'd like to take a moment to explain how very much I thrive in existing in a state of nakedness. But I suppose that statement isn't wholly true, as I only really truly fully enjoy being naked right as I exit the shower. Right after I clean nimbly naked body and make the transition from the moistly damp shower tiles to the outside world of soothingly cold marble, I feel a sensation of purity and cleanliness.

If sleep revives the mind, then showering revives the body. No, no, no...The word "showering" is too culturally specific (I’m leaving out people who take baths, who don’t have a shower…). I'm thinking perhaps "bathing" or "cleansing" is more apt to create a universal phrase. But I suppose that isn't the point here, the point here is to justify my near obsession with a "socially unacceptable" state of being, that of an existence without clothes. I put the phrase in quotations because it feels more like a majority of people disagree with daily nudity, but it's more for fear of everyone else's reaction. Like there's this spark inside everyone that pushes people towards being spiritually free--the act of nakedness being one that brings one closer to this goal; though the flame is never set ablaze for fear none of the other flames will approve. Yet we all yearn for it.

I suppose it is just that tug towards innocence. When we were young and dumb we took nakedness for granted. Now we take wearing clothing for granted. As I become more uninhibited and learn what really matters to me in this world, the superfluous is revealed. Perhaps it’s something we go through during these younger years of exploration and discovery, or maybe it’s because I’m a horny, impatient sodomite. You know how we gays like to get naked—examples being gay pride parades, gay clubs, and craigslist. Maybe it is my genetics (damn I should have never chosen to be a homosexual). But actually: I believe I just want to go back to being that naked child who knows only truth; naked of lies, malice, depression, anxiety, jealousy, and tragedy. But then I suppose I would have never have arrived here, would I? I don’t want to believe that life is just everyone getting older and chasing youth, what we used to be—I cannot believe that life is so simple to exist on that sort of continuum. But that’s a different discussion…

One big reason why I love being naked right after a shower: it’s that moment right before labeling myself with hair gel, logos, threads, cotton, fabrics, scents, and colored boxers. Everything says something. All my clothing and grooming choices are intentioned precisely and it all reveals my hand. The use of hair gel indicates that I want my hair to be extra perfect today because I will probably be seeing people (rather: people will be seeing my hair); a certain logo or color or design indicates how I want to be perceived; a fabric portrays how comfortable I want to feel; a scent gives away the pheromones I want to sway; And let’s not get me started about my color and pattern coding system of underwear… Each new item I adorn myself with, each action I take to make myself accepted in this world of masks and brands, brings me down from my cloud of pure, clean, naked heaven. I build the chains to keep me attached to the ground, to let the social laws of this world cruelly enslave me into a jaded oblivion.

There is one concession I must make as far as wearing clothes goes. The artistry and beauty that goes into fashion and style--defining oneself as an individual, creating different costumes for different events, wearing queer clothing like pretty hats and gloves... I suppose as long as we're required to be clothed, we might as well do so with style. Yet every day I still feel so confined and pulled down to the earth as I get dressed; I want to fly, I need to exist against gravity and other contrived rules of rigid, unforgiving science, I long for my mind, body, and soul to be bare.

diags

lady bug caution

the octopus and crazy mouse

the octopus is one of my favorites--ever since senior day 2009. i remember having to leave early for some reason.

FUN SLIDE

oh yeah.

an even radder addison