The simple urge.
The confusing action of planning something completely unrelevant to your current situation.
Spontaneous? Yes! Crazy?? Ofcourse!! Our minds are unable to comprehend the sudden urge to create, make,feel. When the moment comes we much act on it instantly, before it slips past our mental powers and floats in the empty air forever. It can come in many forms, a thought, something you can hold, even....air. Anything! But when it comes...it comes...dont let it go. Act upon it! Right away. Let it lead you. Float along. Be completely subjected to this compelling force known as....inspiration.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Sticky pads and cracked hands
Her head hurt. Eyes focusing in the dark. Bats flapping around. The sun was barely starting to come up. Food crusted paper plates littered the living room. Remains of the party last night. Everyone was still sleeping. About 10 bodies laying unconciously on the floor. Some snoring, some too deep in their dreams to notice that rain was leaking through the roof and onto their foreheads. She chuckled. Her feet were numb. The glass bowl broke and was lying in shards over in the corner. Whos house were they at again? No one seemed to know. The sudden act of hospitatlity had shocked them all. Here they were, travelers, roamers, outcasts, invited into the home of somebody who obviously had it together. Food, a hot shower, even a smile was all it took to make her feel like a human being. She had been a sillhouette for such a long time, nothing to define her as...real. And now here she was, wrapped in sheets, hair brushed and stomach full. It felt nice, it felt comfortable, too comfortable. It scared her. She stood up and started stepping over people to get to the front door. It was locked. Silly people. Didnt they realize the real danger was already inside? She changed her mind and went over to the window, sliding it up and popping out the screen she crawled out into the damp grass. It was foggy and cold. Goose bumps crawled up and down her arms. She could of asked for a coat, shoes, an extra change of clothes. but she refused. She loved testing her self. her survivial skills. she was cold...yes...but she was going to deal with it. Walking away from the strange yet familar house full of her comrades she couldnt help but feel meloncholy....yet...empowered...she was back.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
I wonder
Hmm...how am i feeling at the moment. yep it happened again. for like the hundreth time. I was just standing there. sure. i have not control. Yeah their just letters and words. so what? I have the three right? I donno. Im sitting. tears. their not mine. a hug. scratching the back. naw. Im not sure. I wonder if things will...yeah i guess. hmm...im confused. why? i make a big deal outta things. over analyze...i shouldda been a scientist...nawww...they have to use their brains too much. I wanna go to other countries and build buildings. I wanna say that things worked out...will they? hmm...hahah why? why? why? why? you think and think and think. stop thinking!! serious. my brain hurts. I ran too much. that chocolate popcicle made me feel better. its all the little things. the things about ....u and well...us that i probably couldnt live without. hmm...i wonder.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Things I love
The pause between reporters on the news.
Escalators.
Making hats out of tissue boxes.
People that arent afraid to spontaneously bust out in dance and song.
Pennies.
Working in a building surrounded by art.
Monty Python and the quest for the holy grail.
Eating the last bit of ice cream in the containter.
Using chopsticks to eat salad.
Listening to music while walking down the street (makes ya feel like you rule the world)
Strange music videos.
AUSTIN!!
Hippies...True hippes...ones that arent afraid to go barefoot.
Dogs that let you pet them without biting off your finger.
Watching PBS at 3 in the morning.
Julia and angus stone.
Bandaids.
Interesting food.
Going somewhere...anywhere...a place you have no idea what ull find there.
Caculators.
Antiques.
My great grand mother.
Tangerine trees.
Sheep.
Secluded rivers...preferable ones without floating trash.
Benches.
Facing the lion.
Hearing your voice.
Tape.
Dancing in the rain.
Laughing uncontrolably and having no idea what about.
Inside jokes.
Wood.
Morse code.
French.
Bottle caps.
Old letters.
Hats.
Laura stevenson.
My ukulele
Our brotherhood.
Establishing a friendship with a total stranger.
Soap.
Writing reminders on post its and sticking them on my ceiling.
Broken peices of glass.
Raking dirt. :D
The akward silence after some one burps.
Collecting things found on the road....yet again...perferably not trash.
Hands.
Singing in the shower.
Paris.
Cooking channels.
Travel channels.
Music channels.
93.3
The psycho cat that hangs around our house.
Tacos.
Watching people paint.
Foreign films.
Taking pictures of tires.
You.
Escalators.
Making hats out of tissue boxes.
People that arent afraid to spontaneously bust out in dance and song.
Pennies.
Working in a building surrounded by art.
Monty Python and the quest for the holy grail.
Eating the last bit of ice cream in the containter.
Using chopsticks to eat salad.
Listening to music while walking down the street (makes ya feel like you rule the world)
Strange music videos.
AUSTIN!!
Hippies...True hippes...ones that arent afraid to go barefoot.
Dogs that let you pet them without biting off your finger.
Watching PBS at 3 in the morning.
Julia and angus stone.
Bandaids.
Interesting food.
Going somewhere...anywhere...a place you have no idea what ull find there.
Caculators.
Antiques.
My great grand mother.
Tangerine trees.
Sheep.
Secluded rivers...preferable ones without floating trash.
Benches.
Facing the lion.
Hearing your voice.
Tape.
Dancing in the rain.
Laughing uncontrolably and having no idea what about.
Inside jokes.
Wood.
Morse code.
French.
Bottle caps.
Old letters.
Hats.
Laura stevenson.
My ukulele
Our brotherhood.
Establishing a friendship with a total stranger.
Soap.
Writing reminders on post its and sticking them on my ceiling.
Broken peices of glass.
Raking dirt. :D
The akward silence after some one burps.
Collecting things found on the road....yet again...perferably not trash.
Hands.
Singing in the shower.
Paris.
Cooking channels.
Travel channels.
Music channels.
93.3
The psycho cat that hangs around our house.
Tacos.
Watching people paint.
Foreign films.
Taking pictures of tires.
You.
Friday, March 11, 2011
haha
Well as you can probably tell, i JUST figured out how to upload pictures into the blog.
There will be alot more commin now.
There will be alot more commin now.
A Dance in the rain
Come dance with me.
It doesnt matter what time it is.
Rain, shine, snow, wind.
Come dance with me.
Ive figured it out.
The secret to life.
Nothing matters.
Nothing at all.
Except what makes you happy.
Whatever it may be.
Come dance with me.
You make me happy. :D
Feed my fish
ahhahah this is awsome!!
scroll down to the bottom of the page and click anywhere in the green.
Feel free to name them. :)
scroll down to the bottom of the page and click anywhere in the green.
Feel free to name them. :)
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Go Ahead
"Sure why not" He muttered to himself.
Throwing the half eaten taco into the greasy brown paper bag. He ran inside and grabbed his guitar. The strings glistening in the sun as he loaded up his car. Coffee- check, Food- check,
Music- double check. Cd's scattered all across the back seat. He was ready. Map in hand. Cell phone completely turned off. Barefoot and curious. He hopped in and left. But there was no one to wave good bye to him. He smiled. He loved that. No one knew.
Everyone was completely oblivious to what he was about to do. He passed the post office. People mailing their letters. licking their envelopes, paying wayy too much for stamps. He chuckled to himself. Pictures flashed through his brain. Mexico, Europe, Spain. It was all so...far away. Yet he could taste the salt of the beaches, smell the fresh produce of the markets, and hear the music echo through the cobble stone streets. He was there. He was sorrounded by everything. Lights. Flashing by as the day quickly turned to night. Traffic. He wasnt there. Not in his car. Not on this highway. Not in the same state hed lived in most his life. The music lulled him to sleep. Crap. he hadnt realized how tired he was. Pulling into a rest stop. he gave up on searching for a cheap motel and just....slipped into his dreams. Right there in the front seat.
He was on top of a building. Where was he...He was in Paris. People walking hand in hand below him. The smell of coffee floating through the air. He laughed. He was there. Lights. Sparkling through the city. Illuminating the eifle tower. He felt complete. He smiled and fell back. The Sun burned his skin.
Where was he...Spain. He heard children laughing and water splashing. Music and conversation imminating from the shore. He was on a boat. Floating, his feet dangling in the crystal blue water. He cried. Tears of...something. Please stay please stay, he begged to his subconcious. But as soon as he opened his eyes he was pedaling down a dirt road.
Where was he...Mexico. He looked down in shock, in his hand was the greasy brown paper bag containing the taco. He stopped and park the bike underneath a tree. Leaning up against it, he ate his taco and allowed the enormity of everything envelope him. Mexico. yes. this was right.
he smiled.
And
never
woke
up.
Throwing the half eaten taco into the greasy brown paper bag. He ran inside and grabbed his guitar. The strings glistening in the sun as he loaded up his car. Coffee- check, Food- check,
Music- double check. Cd's scattered all across the back seat. He was ready. Map in hand. Cell phone completely turned off. Barefoot and curious. He hopped in and left. But there was no one to wave good bye to him. He smiled. He loved that. No one knew.
Everyone was completely oblivious to what he was about to do. He passed the post office. People mailing their letters. licking their envelopes, paying wayy too much for stamps. He chuckled to himself. Pictures flashed through his brain. Mexico, Europe, Spain. It was all so...far away. Yet he could taste the salt of the beaches, smell the fresh produce of the markets, and hear the music echo through the cobble stone streets. He was there. He was sorrounded by everything. Lights. Flashing by as the day quickly turned to night. Traffic. He wasnt there. Not in his car. Not on this highway. Not in the same state hed lived in most his life. The music lulled him to sleep. Crap. he hadnt realized how tired he was. Pulling into a rest stop. he gave up on searching for a cheap motel and just....slipped into his dreams. Right there in the front seat.
He was on top of a building. Where was he...He was in Paris. People walking hand in hand below him. The smell of coffee floating through the air. He laughed. He was there. Lights. Sparkling through the city. Illuminating the eifle tower. He felt complete. He smiled and fell back. The Sun burned his skin.
Where was he...Spain. He heard children laughing and water splashing. Music and conversation imminating from the shore. He was on a boat. Floating, his feet dangling in the crystal blue water. He cried. Tears of...something. Please stay please stay, he begged to his subconcious. But as soon as he opened his eyes he was pedaling down a dirt road.
Where was he...Mexico. He looked down in shock, in his hand was the greasy brown paper bag containing the taco. He stopped and park the bike underneath a tree. Leaning up against it, he ate his taco and allowed the enormity of everything envelope him. Mexico. yes. this was right.
he smiled.
And
never
woke
up.
The sun shone brightly
As it was, she just started...walking.
Nothing with her. No back pack. No extra change of clothes in a suitcase. Not even her wallet or cell phone. She just...up and left. Not telling anyone why or where she was going. Each step on the hot black assphault, felt like a year she was leaving behind. Tall trees lined the road. Looking up the clouds seemed to form into an arrow, pointing her onward. BBQ. Yes it was. She was smelling the smoky aroma of the resturaunt up the road. What was it called again?
Salt Lick. Thats right. Austin. She was going to Austin. It just occured to her. The building seemed to tilt towards her as she walked farther and farther away from it, her stomach grumbling the entire time. Sun beat down upon her. But for some reason the thick presperation didnt make her uncomfortable. It made her feel...free. She looked down at her hands. Dark and dirty from playing with the ground. She closed her eyes and could almost smell the rich soil she was planting in not even two hours ago. What made her stop? The bush, thats right. It was the bush. The small dead rose bush she was trying to save. It looked odd in her front yard. Too beautiful against the peeling paint and cement. She felt like a rose bush. Dead ofcourse. but also. out of place. Thats the moment she decided, or the bush decided for her. Because a dog came just as she was deep in thought and peed on it. She didnt want to be pissed on. by a dog, by people, by life. It was time. And now. Here she was, walking. Almost gliding towards whatever was ahead of her. An endless strech of road. Cars speeding by. She didnt even bother to lift up her thumb. A car pulled over and a man jumped out. The sun shone brightly, blocking out his face. He walked closer, Everything stopped. Everything. The cars. The blistering wind. The peeing dog, it all froze. But he kept walking, closer and closer. It was him. She was sure. He slipped his hand into hers. All smiles.
They kept walking farther and farther away from the car.
Nothing with her. No back pack. No extra change of clothes in a suitcase. Not even her wallet or cell phone. She just...up and left. Not telling anyone why or where she was going. Each step on the hot black assphault, felt like a year she was leaving behind. Tall trees lined the road. Looking up the clouds seemed to form into an arrow, pointing her onward. BBQ. Yes it was. She was smelling the smoky aroma of the resturaunt up the road. What was it called again?
Salt Lick. Thats right. Austin. She was going to Austin. It just occured to her. The building seemed to tilt towards her as she walked farther and farther away from it, her stomach grumbling the entire time. Sun beat down upon her. But for some reason the thick presperation didnt make her uncomfortable. It made her feel...free. She looked down at her hands. Dark and dirty from playing with the ground. She closed her eyes and could almost smell the rich soil she was planting in not even two hours ago. What made her stop? The bush, thats right. It was the bush. The small dead rose bush she was trying to save. It looked odd in her front yard. Too beautiful against the peeling paint and cement. She felt like a rose bush. Dead ofcourse. but also. out of place. Thats the moment she decided, or the bush decided for her. Because a dog came just as she was deep in thought and peed on it. She didnt want to be pissed on. by a dog, by people, by life. It was time. And now. Here she was, walking. Almost gliding towards whatever was ahead of her. An endless strech of road. Cars speeding by. She didnt even bother to lift up her thumb. A car pulled over and a man jumped out. The sun shone brightly, blocking out his face. He walked closer, Everything stopped. Everything. The cars. The blistering wind. The peeing dog, it all froze. But he kept walking, closer and closer. It was him. She was sure. He slipped his hand into hers. All smiles.
They kept walking farther and farther away from the car.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Only Human
I have to pee.
Im hungry.
My contacts are bothering my eyes.
My throat is dry.
My feet are killing me.
This shirt is too big.
Im hungry.
My contacts are bothering my eyes.
My throat is dry.
My feet are killing me.
This shirt is too big.
Hands
Im looking at this painting. Its two hands kinda spread out. I like it.
A man came in. I was making tags for the paintings. I fell off the ladder.
Laughed at myself. He was not laughing. Oops. Sold a painting. 8.25%
I suck at math. Duh just add the tax to the total. Lady looked at me like i was stupid.
Then we started a laughing. She failed her math in high school too. :)
Chips in the cabinet, dip in the fridge. I love these people!
Type type type. Fingernails are painted...for the first time in forever!
I donno if i like them. But i do like that painting of the hands. The fingernails on it are not painted.
Maybe I'll take the polish off.
Blue.
Like my car.
That died.
It's a sad reminder.
Maybe ill paint them something nicer...like green.
Then maybe ill get a green car.
Thats pretty gay. Ur nails matching your car.
Hey whatever makes ya happy i guess.
A man came in. I was making tags for the paintings. I fell off the ladder.
Laughed at myself. He was not laughing. Oops. Sold a painting. 8.25%
I suck at math. Duh just add the tax to the total. Lady looked at me like i was stupid.
Then we started a laughing. She failed her math in high school too. :)
Chips in the cabinet, dip in the fridge. I love these people!
Type type type. Fingernails are painted...for the first time in forever!
I donno if i like them. But i do like that painting of the hands. The fingernails on it are not painted.
Maybe I'll take the polish off.
Blue.
Like my car.
That died.
It's a sad reminder.
Maybe ill paint them something nicer...like green.
Then maybe ill get a green car.
Thats pretty gay. Ur nails matching your car.
Hey whatever makes ya happy i guess.
He left her
Im shocked. I didnt think people could be like that.
He left her. Moved on. To someone else. Without even telling her.
Without even leaving her with her dignity or a reasonable explanation.
Made me think. How can some one be so sure. Then just...forget?
Will you do the same? I doubt it. I'ts different. I hope. Were right. Right?
Hes gone now. And shes crying to me. Trying to figure out how this happened.
I hurt for her.
I knew it was comming though.
Love doesnt last...when you dont try.
Im trying. Really hard. I want this to last.
More than anything. I do not want to be that girl on the phone.
Wondering what happened. Wondering what she did wrong.
He left her. Moved on. To someone else. Without even telling her.
Without even leaving her with her dignity or a reasonable explanation.
Made me think. How can some one be so sure. Then just...forget?
Will you do the same? I doubt it. I'ts different. I hope. Were right. Right?
Hes gone now. And shes crying to me. Trying to figure out how this happened.
I hurt for her.
I knew it was comming though.
Love doesnt last...when you dont try.
Im trying. Really hard. I want this to last.
More than anything. I do not want to be that girl on the phone.
Wondering what happened. Wondering what she did wrong.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
flowers
Today i had to run to H.E.B to buy some flowers and chocolate covered strawberries for my boss. We had a press tour and we were tryin to impress. So as im checking out an old gap toothed man comes up to me and real serious says "your doing it wrong" pointing at the flowers.
"uuuuuh...i know there suppossed to be in water." I replied.
He laughed.
"No!" He shook his head.
Confused i asked.
"well how am i supposed to do it?"
"the boys are supposed to buy the girls flowers!!" he cracked up and i couldnt help but smile.
I love old people :D
"uuuuuh...i know there suppossed to be in water." I replied.
He laughed.
"No!" He shook his head.
Confused i asked.
"well how am i supposed to do it?"
"the boys are supposed to buy the girls flowers!!" he cracked up and i couldnt help but smile.
I love old people :D
Cave
I am a cave.
Sometimes filled with shiny rocks.
Sometimes filled with bat crap.
take your pick.
Each step echoing as you walk further and further into this wet, dark, deep cave.
take your picture.
The flash illuminates the dark corners and fills the empty space with a sudden warmth.
Your voice booms as you comment on the rough corners and pointy edges.
take your leave.
Youve stayed long enough.
Soon your footsteps will be permanantly indented into my ground.
I cant have that.
Because the absence after you leave filles me with such pain, I'd wish someone would light
a stick of dynomite and let me "cave in" on myself.
Does this make sense?
I want you to stay.
Become a resident in this hole of mine.
Paint the walls,
add your touch.
You light up my darkness.
I am a cave, all sparkling and beautiful,
when i have your foot prints, voice, and color inside.
Sometimes filled with shiny rocks.
Sometimes filled with bat crap.
take your pick.
Each step echoing as you walk further and further into this wet, dark, deep cave.
take your picture.
The flash illuminates the dark corners and fills the empty space with a sudden warmth.
Your voice booms as you comment on the rough corners and pointy edges.
take your leave.
Youve stayed long enough.
Soon your footsteps will be permanantly indented into my ground.
I cant have that.
Because the absence after you leave filles me with such pain, I'd wish someone would light
a stick of dynomite and let me "cave in" on myself.
Does this make sense?
I want you to stay.
Become a resident in this hole of mine.
Paint the walls,
add your touch.
You light up my darkness.
I am a cave, all sparkling and beautiful,
when i have your foot prints, voice, and color inside.
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