confessions of a wandering soul. tempting life, eating ice-cream, reading poetry and writing secrets.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
if only for tonight...
Let the usual things shuffle quietly into the background. Forget everything you've been told about how you should be. Tonight, envision all you could be. Suffuse yourself with the possibilities circling into your world at every moment. Spend the night imagining, dreaming and scheming. Dress differently, eat the foods you've never tried. Carry a notebook. Write of things to do, places to go, people to meet, and dreams to realize. Write everything, even if it seems silly. Draw pictures. Cartoons. Stickmen beating each other up. Create something.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
We see an eagle glide slowly over the tidal river that divides the tiny town, and Peter (we call him P-ball) looks over. "Get his attention!" he yells. We start a choir of whistles completely void of any harmony... followed by a brief silence before Andrew (we call him Crayon) shouts out..
"Faggot!"
We laugh hysterically... though (at this moment) I'm not quite sure why. The eagle ignores us.
"Faggot!"
We laugh hysterically... though (at this moment) I'm not quite sure why. The eagle ignores us.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
small town life.
The laughter here is thick, long and uncontrolled. I crack a country boy heart or two with my disinterest. There is no nice way to dismiss the attention gathered from new-girl allure, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll come right out and say ‘fuck off’ if there’s no other way to make it clear. This is the small town life. A place where I toss out coyote howling sounds at every opportunity, drink beer like water and bake weed cookies with my mom. A place where taking refuge from the coastal heat, means a swim at Fred’s Hole and every second person walking by offers to smoke a joint with you. A place where my worst mumbling is somehow understood perfectly. Where thoughts are said out loud and everyone knows your name before you’ve met them.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
i want to play in the rain.
I want to be the girl seen dancing barefoot at the park on Sunday mornings. I want to read out loud, take a million pictures and never upload them anywhere. I want to write what the entire world is feeling. I want to be overwhelmed with desire and laughter. I want to paint every nail a different colour, and wear skate-shoes with skirts. I want to always have a book with me and never wear a watch. I was rolling a joint just now, and wished the entire world could wonder themselves aware of the elation that comes from the littlest things in life. The future obsession is drilled straight and heavy into our paradigms early on. Planning for later and letting the now slip past our fingertips. The silly nuances never rising through a complicated world... but I’m with Bueller. “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Hawkeye: War isn't Hell. War is war, and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is a lot worse.
Father Mulcahy: How do you figure, Hawkeye?
Hawkeye: Easy, Father. Tell me, who goes to Hell?
Father Mulcahy: Sinners, I believe.
Hawkeye: Exactly. There are no innocent bystanders in Hell. War is chalk full of them - little kids, cripples, old ladies. In fact, except for some of the brass, almost everybody involved is an innocent bystander.
Father Mulcahy: How do you figure, Hawkeye?
Hawkeye: Easy, Father. Tell me, who goes to Hell?
Father Mulcahy: Sinners, I believe.
Hawkeye: Exactly. There are no innocent bystanders in Hell. War is chalk full of them - little kids, cripples, old ladies. In fact, except for some of the brass, almost everybody involved is an innocent bystander.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
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