Poema del dia.

I pronounce your name on dark nights,
when the stars come to drink on the moon
and sleep in tufts of hidden fronds. 

And I feel myself hollow of passion and music.
Crazy clock that sings dead ancient hours.

I pronounce your name, in this dark night,
and your name sounds more distant than ever.
More distant than all stars 
and more doleful than a calm rain.

Will I love you like then ever again? 

What blame has my heart? 

When the mist dissipates, 

what other passion may I expect? 

Will it be calm and pure? 

If only my fingers could defoliate the moon!

- Federico Garcia Lorca.

WORDS OF WISEDOM:

" Um, thank you. I'm not much for public speaking. Or much for speaking. Or, come to think of it, much for the public. And I'm not very good at lying. So let me just say that, in my experience, high school sucks. If I had to do it all over again, I'd have started advanced placement classes in preschool so I could go from eighth grade straight to college. However, given the unalterable fact that high school sucks, I'd like to add that if you're lucky enough to have a good friend and a family that cares, it doesn't have to suck quite as much. Otherwise my advice is: Stand firm for what you believe in, until and unless experience proves you wrong. Remember, when the emperor looks naked, the emperor is naked. The truth and a lie are not "sort of" the same thing. And there is no aspect, no facet, no moment of life that can't be improved with pizza. Thank you." --- Daria

Esto. Me. Encanta. ♥

It's 3:02 AM,

the start to fucking New Years Eve, and here I am. AWAKE.

Listening to "Moanin'" by Charles Mingus. Oh yes, sugarrr. Soo Jazz'n!

...So, in a few hours, the current year 2010, will officially be considered something of the past. Instead of students dating the upper right hand corner of their class assignments with ?-?-10... starting tomorrow they'll have to cross out that zero and add a fucking one--> ?-?-11 (it usually takes me a while to adjust, and when I do adjust, before I know it, it's time to re-adjust again!) Anyway, back to my point...I don't think I have one, actually. I just have a lot, too much, a ridiculous amount of different thoughts swooning through my brain! (is swooning even a word?) One after another, they collide together, at the same time...it's like a race, a race of words and images that only I can see. How awesome is that? Thinking. It's amazing how we each have our own thoughts...it's our own little-big world in there...in our brains, our imagination. Geez. Well, I'm blabbing too much now. I guess I thought I'd be able to make better sense of these distorted thoughts by writing them out; actually, in this case, typing them out.
Major FAIL.

..It's just damn crazy to me though. How one day determines the end of a whole fucking year. How that same day also determines the start of a whole new fucking year too. It's fucking crazy, yet fucking amazing. and sort of fucking confusing. (I never usually curse this much, by the way.) but, blah.

..I probably wont be getting much sleep tonight.
I'm totally fine with it too. I actually don't mind staying up.
I don't mind the fucking saggy bag pouches I'll be having under my eye balls in the future. I like being awake. Honestly, If it weren't for dreams, sleeping would be such a drag. Anyhow, I probably sound like either:

A) a fucking bore
B) a fucking phsyco 
C) an interesting confusing robot OR

D) all of the above

so, I'll just leave it at this:

This drawing is a perfect combination of four things I happen to adore in this life.
(and possibly you may adore so too?)
...Old age + beard + birds + winter = ♥

Sometimes,

I wish I could live the life of a fucking REBEL. 

Follow my heart, and not give two fucks about consequences.
About what's right, and what's wrong..
about other peoples wants, expectations, and needs. 

Fucking let my feet take me where they desire, 
and not worry about how the fuck, or if I'll ever make it back. 

If I could be careless, instead of selfless...if I could be unaware. 

If I could step out of my fucking shadow, 
and set the ghost in the back of my head FREE.

If I could actually fucking pursue my dreams, 
without hesitations or limitations. 

If I could live my life without having to use the fucking word "if."

and just be a rebel...A FUCKING REBEL IN PURSUIT OF LIVING.

A fucking rebel that actually lives each day as if it were the last,

and doesn't just speak about one day doing so.

A fucking rebel that doesn't give a fuck about 
how many times she uses the fucking word "fuck." 

..Sometimes, I just wish I could be another me. NOT somebody else..

just another fucking version of me. One that is truly, honestly, genuinely, one-hundred-and-fucking-seven-percent satisfied with life...

"I'd rather live in a trashcan 
than see you happy with another man."

do you eat, sleep,

do you breathe me anymore?
do you sleep, do you count sheep anymore?
do you sleep anymore?

do you take plight on my tongue like lead?
do you fall gracefully into bed anymore?

I saw you as you walked across my room.
you looked out the window, you looked at the moon.
and you sat on the corner of my bed, and
you smoked with the ghost in the back of my head.

I don't know, and I don't care
if I ever will see you again. 

I don't know, and I don't care
if I ever will be there.

do you eat, sleep, do you breathe me anymore?
do you sleep, do you keep me anymore?

you kick my foot under the table, 

I kick you back;

I can't say I'm able to
stand for you or
fall for you ever again.

wish for a perfect setting?
wishing that I am letting you
take me where you want me
all over again?
you can't give yourself absolutely to someone else.

I don't know, and I don't care
if I ever will see you again. 

I don't know, and I don't care
if I ever will be there.

I saw you as you walked across my room.
you looked out the window, you looked at the moon.
and you sat on the corner of my bed, and
you smoked with the ghost in the back of my head.

do you eat, sleep, do you breathe me anymore?
do you sleep, do you count sheep anymore?
do you sleep anymore?

I don't know, and I don't care if I ever will be there.

- Lisa Loeb.

FEET + ALL OF THEE BELOW 

=   

HAPPY FEET ♥ 

 

 

PRESS PLAY.

I want to ink his words on my canvased skin.

possibly, more than likely...I will.
before this year ends, perhaps?

 

"Be Here Now"

Don't let your mind get weary and confused
Your will be still, don't try
Don't let your heart get heavy child
Inside you there's a strength that lies

Don't let your soul get lonely child
It's only time, it will go by
Don't look for love in faces, places
It's in you, that's where you'll find kindness

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now

Don't lose your faith in me
And I will try not to lose faith in you
Don't put your trust in walls
'Cause walls will only crush you when they fall

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now.

Something about this photo,

is breathtakingly beautiful to me.
I'm not quite sure why?
maybe it's the soft intensity in his eyes..
his effortless attractive messy hair.. 
the raw natural beauty of his freckles, and thick eyebrows..
or maybe it's the Polaroid held in his hand, that gracefully captures the reflection of a California sky..

It's been said that...

The man of my dreams,

can only be seen through closed eyes.

The love of my life,
is physically unaware.

Romance pulses through my veins,
so I write away...

In another lifetime.
some other way.
in-between seasons.
as a canvas serves purpose to half-empty bottles of paint..

that's when I'll feel,
that's when he'll touch,
that's when we'll seat,
that's when we'll brunch,
that's when I'll hold him,
as he sings me sweet songs..

that's when the dream,
will tear me apart.

You and me between the sheets
It just doesn't get better than this
The many windswept yellow stickies of my mind
Are the molten emotional front line
I couldn't care less I'm transfixed in this absolute bliss
Sweet sleepless, tumbling night
Oh, and the morning on your skin and loved up light
Tracing patterns in the maze of your back
Softly, softly the goose bumps like that
And then a kiss...
Maybe another,
And another one..
- Imogean Heap.

Deer. Yes, Deer!

I want a pet deer, m' dear.
I'd name him crush, feed em' warm milk in a bottle, and tell him all my stories.
We'd watch Bambi together, and I'd teach him how to dance.
Oui, I truly believe deers have the potential to dance.

I'd be his Momma Dear, and I'd keep em' forever, until the end of dearest time.

- FIN.

WHAT IF.

those two words are enough to drive a person crazy.

enough to drive a person mad.

enough to save somebody's heartbeat.

enough to rekindle what we had.

What if, what if... 

 

 

A P P L E O F M Y E Y E .

After an inevitable (yet accidental) vanilla coffee spill, surviving a chaos of feisty adrenaline Black Friday shoppers, trying on piles of clothes (that weren't destined to be purchased), about 200 different conversations, unexpected encounters with old schoolmates, spending 15 bucks worth on vintage floral bras, poking at my friends chili cheese fries, hours of non-stop joking, "hooting" and uncontrollable laugh-attacks later, I met my newest (additional) piece of owned art :

The Son of Man

After glancing through hundreds (not exaggerating) of art portraits at a very busy art booth (it was so lovely and satisfying to see so many people exposing their appreciation for an others talent, I must add) my finger-tips came across the work of Renee Magritte. One glance at it, I became instantly attracted. One actual look at it, I was instantly in love.  (just a self-thought side note: I'm realizing, I happen to fall in love with objects, words, and music much more rapidly than I ever have with an actual human being.) - - - 

I just couldn't let it go. Although I knew my red-floral wallet was in no condition for such selfish pleasures...and clearly I knew the painting wasn't necessary (being that I literally have no space left to flaunt it in my room. ALL my walls are smothered up in either vinyl, photographs, ink, or portraits already.) It's as if a certain magnetic force directed me to exchange my 7 dollars and something cents for the odd, captivating and intriguing piece. but little would I have known that along with this "piece", would also come the discovery of the genius, surrealist painter behind it. (P.S; Yes, for the record, the following information is Googled!) 

- - - - - - - - -

The painting is a 1964 self-portrait of Rene Magritte, an actually very well known (but new to me, of course) Belgian surrealist painter. On the what abouts of The son of Man, Magritte quotes:

"At least it hides the face partly. 

Well, so you have the apparent face,

 the apple, hiding the visible but hidden, 

the face of the person. 

 It's something that happens constantly.

Everything we see hides another thing, 

we always want to see 

what is hidden by what we see. 

There is an interest in that which is hidden and which the visible does not show us. 

 This interest can take the form of a quite intense feeling, a sort of conflict,

 one might say, between the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present."

(P.S.S, Of course I went on to view more of his work, And oh! darling treasure! his work is GOLD. P.S.S.S, Ce' n'est pas une pipe!)

“The mind loves the unknown. 
It loves images whose meaning is unknown, since the meaning of the mind itself 
is unknown.”

 

 “Only thought can resemble. 
It resembles by being what it 
sees, hears, or knows; 
it becomes what the world offers it.”

“If the dream is a translation of waking life, 
waking life is also a translation of the dream.”

Una Palabra.

A friend of mine showed me this song this past week,
and I've pretty much been obsessed with it. 
Its sound is simple, yet breathtaking. 

The lyrics..also simple, yet truly deep, and heartfelt.

(Note: The charming man in this video is not Carlos Varela; 

he's a fan of his that decided to make a mimic to his song.)

I think the outcome is just about close to perfect though, don't you think?

Una palabra no dice nada
y al mismo tiempo lo esconde todo
igual que el viento que esconde el agua
como las flores que esconde el lodo.

Una mirada no dice nada
y al mismo tiempo lo dice todo
como la lluvia sobre tu cara
o el viejo mapa de algun tesoro.

Una verdad no dice nada
y al mismo tiempo lo esconde todo
como una hoguera que no se apaga
como una piedra que nace polvo.

Si un dia me faltas no sere nada
y al mismo tiempo lo sere todo
porque en tus ojos estan mis alas
y esta la orilla donde me ahogo,
porque en tus ojos estan mis alas
y esta la orilla donde me ahogo.

I'll let you define me,

 

I've spent much too many hours, minutes, seconds of my life;

with faithful, passionate, serene dedication..searching for that undiscovered music. 

That music that is either too old, or too well known by a small amount of lovers. My main thing while musically adventuring though, is really just to find a new musical muse, for none other, and none more fittingly, than.. well, myself. 

I want to die knowing that my ears explored as much of this worlds God, golden, fortune, wondrous sounds as possible. This might have already been said a lot throughout history, and I'll just be another young folk added to the group, but I seriously can't imagine living a life without MUSIC.

I've never had such an intimate, humble, selfish obsession..as the one which I've had, and up to day still have, with the many voices, words, and sounds of the WORLD; that add up to the overly-simple

titled category called:  M U S I C.

Music makes me feel, unexplainable feelings. Music is A PART of me.

Music has been there for me in those little- B I G, moments of my life...

M U S I C: my ultimate, most endearing, wild, free, soothing, unforgettable, INFINITE;

roller coaster ride.

YOU do the math..

 

IT'S 3:49 AM, and once again I'm in lack of  a rested mind.
It's  not a matter of insomnia, or restless aging thoughts that keep my pupils glistening in a midnight darkened  room. It's not the caffeine consumed that keeps my creative adrenaline flowing. It's nothing too exaggerated or exquisite. There is none or nothing to blame; but on the contrary, a five-lettered word is the least I could give credit to: YOUTH.
These late nights, and early mornings..haven't worn down on me, yet.
Half the planet (now, that's exaggeration) find themselves asleep...
dreaming an extraordinary tale, expanding their years of beauty, decreasing their opportune days of...

L U N A

There is something about the moon.
It is splendid; magical.
In the darkness of the night, I lay beside my restless bones,
and allow the mind inside my head, to wander out alone.
It reaches its grand heights, it knows not where it goes,
but every night it makes its way to a place too far away from home.
Somewhere..Next to the stars, above the sky..it converses with the Moon.
The Moon...tells its stories. Some horrid, with beauty;
Often of sadness, mostly of glory. Both of pending, and past.
The mind stays and listens; sheds tears, and then glistens;
becomes intrigued by each word the Moon swiftly speaks away..
The Brain, The Brain..It paints its own pictures; soft dark dancing figures;
3, 4, 2, 1... out of order it comes.
The Brain; like a pistol..
two bullets, one deep shot.
It triggers each moving figure...into my head and then...
I'm still not dead.