Nonsensical Title Pending

A thought hit me, not the first time of course, but this time I've illustrated it in my head completely..
Death is unfortunate.

At least, to me it is. Not just because of the "ah shit, I'm dead! What's next?" business or the "fuck, I hope the priest was kidding about that masturbation thing." It's actually far more simpler than that.

When I die it'll be without notice. That means..

'Shit, did not reply to that one person's blog!'
'Forgot to call up and wish my mum happy birthday again!><'
'Still never confessed to that one girl.'
'Forgot to wipe my hard drive of "garbage"!'
'Neeeever listened to my favorite band's album yet!!'

and let's not forget..

'all those people across the internet I talk to/talked to once/admired artistically/admired/etc will never know that I died, most likely.'

and that realization of incompleteness and anonymity after death just struck me as scary.




But back to more important matters!
I want to melt all my friends down and turn them into a neat inject capable drug and start shooting up because then I would be certain that they are actually moving towards my heart
and not the blasted shed in my head where I hide all the shit too broken to carry a long.

So let's just lift up our cups and toast on a good fight for our fellow Roses in the war with the sheep(pluralized).
And of course let's wish a pox upon the damn vagina for stealing the storks' business.

FACKYOU.iloveyou

O, Green Mind

I'm glad that the idea of recycling has finally caught on in the world. I've never been a fan of wastefully discarding things that still could function in another form, honestly..

So you should be able to imagine how delighted I was when I walked out of the Faust Ecstasy Recycling Agency with new memories, wrought with the sweetest moments ever experienced in all of mankind's history!

For ages now we've allowed our kin to simply die and rot in the ground, taking away with them all the moments they've shared and the feelings they felt. Faust Ecstasy has made it their dream to harvest these "thrown away" memories and recycle them into the minds of people who may need a little more flare in their minds when nostalgic and in the minds of people who seems to have allowed all the bad memories to overwhelm their few good ones.
Personally, I believe recycling is a great responsibility of ours that we should embrace and utilize to its utmost advantages and that goes for plastic, metal, semen, paper, children and our minds.
Throwing away these things carelessly could only result in an overflow of the discarded; junk piles and viscous memories in the air.

So I come to all of you today as a humble man blessed by precious moments not lived yet experienced; as a simple man who has lacked the embrace of some of the most truest love ever to kiss the Earth in all of time yet still possesses the qualia of the souls that did, to tell you that the recycling of minds is a beautiful concept whose only purpose is to preserve our already limited experiences for all the future generations to feel and experience.
Our minds are simply just sidewalks that we've been drawing on since we were kids..

And F.E.R.A. just wants to find you the perfect friend who can be there to help you color in the shapes.




Oh, I'm going to start a revolution from my bed
and make the Sun more enchanting and nostalgic than the Moon.


Goodnight.

Oh Darling..

You have her here, standing with you on the cold wet concrete of the old station
Asphyxiated by you stare, by your charm..
You can't help but stare at the subtle pink hue of her lips, slightly parted, longing for embrace
and you do it.
You embrace- a collision right before these train tracks
and it was painful.
So very painful, as she pressed into you as if to rip your head off..

But you love this pain-
you love this closeness
and damnit,
you might even love her.


But the music stops and by the conductor's cues, you realize the place you're at
and the time you have left..
Give her one last kiss to the forehead.
Perfect.
Now gently rub your hand across her cheeks.
The train siren sings its song
And her fingers dig in deep, holding you closer than she should
Her voice breaks halfway through as you both part, "I loved you.."
Now calmly say your words.. calmly now-
"Oh darling.. You do lack the will to let go, now don't you?"

"Operator, my system has done lost its mind."

End.

God, today was weird.
Conductor.. forget the finale, this story ends here.

This Stork is Funny Colored. [wtfblack?]

This drug is sacrosanct.

Such a build up of work in the life of I; school's finally picking up and smothering me in it's chores.
..But I asked for this, now didn't I?




Ugh.
Ugh.
Ugh.


When will I learn that simply making eye contact with this cat won't make her love me?
That my thoughts are purely my own and no matter how much I want it to happen
You can't read me..
You can't hear me..
You don't know me.


but I'm alright. Like a wave, another moment, another day will sweep by and maybe I'll get on the board and decide to ride back to the shore with you then. You promise?



Earth's no place for lovers anymore!
So fly to to the sun with me, baby, let's fly to the sun..

There goes my hero..

asjkdlas;kl.
you don't say?

SOMEONE HELP!!
I'm afraid of falling clouds.

So anyways, I've been thinking about our little fascination with drilling up through the skies. There's stars, planets, asteroids, dinosaurs and comets up there, twinkling silently by themselves in the darkness!
And we're little astronauts, building little spaceships to sail through space,
all in the name of meeting these pretty places and keeping them company.
But wait!

We've missed something- something important
Important?
IMPORTANT! fuck.

We can't hug stars from spaceships. What sort of human goes to a lonely soul without arms to hug them with? Unable to kiss? Unable to shake hands! We're locked in little space-boxes soaring through God's fuzzy navel like the little geniuses we are and yet we forgot to bring arms big enough to hug with.
Too sad.

Well besides the foolish mistakes we all make in unison, let's talk about the mistakes I make individually.
Or the non-mistakes I made..
but would non-mistakes be a mistake? Because I've failed to fail, therefore I've made a mistake in not making mistakes.
Which I suppose is wrong, right?
Hmm.


It's parents weekend here, or something like that, and mines came over for a bit. We chilled for a quick minute and they left back to their hotel for the night. I'm still not sure how things are supposed to unfold for this weekend. What to do, etc etc.
Most likely I'll just chill and think like I normally do
think about things like astronauts riding in trains or ant empires
how perfect that one person walks
how interestingly silly and cute that other person's eyes and face are
or about you scruffy cats.

Whichever one though, I'll be thinking for sure.


What an odd fellow! That boy there. He puts on a suit and hat, at 8 in the night.
But he has no job.
No girl to date.
No funeral to attend.
This boy dresses up at 8 in the night and walks over to a bench and sits. Just sits, sketching god knows what.
Does he not know that nobody can even tell how well put his clothes are when it's so dark?

Sounds like a silly boy, that's true
but don't you think that maybe he does have a job-
Maybe he does have a date-
Maybe he is mourning at a funeral

Maybe he is doing something rather important at that bench right now in the bountiful fields of his mind. Attending a funeral, running through the fields with his love, fueling a memory or building a dream. Maybe right now instead of sitting at a bench he's on a rocket ship, three hours from Mars, planning to crash land into the Queen's bedroom, or he's trying to think of all the silly things he'd put on a silly planet if he only had 6 days to do so.


And we are sitting here, watching him, wondering what the hell he is doing.. and he's out there dancing on Mars with penguins, Zeus and her. I don't know about you sir, but I'd be sitting there on that bench with him if it meant that I could
see what he sees. Feel what he feels. Her what he hears, and dance.
Just fucking dance. and sing. and cry, even when we're happy, just because we can.

But still, I agree. He's a pretty weird cat, that boy. Because he's wearing jeans with that suit.




orly?



But really now
This buggy blogger is pissing me off to no ends.
For it changes the font sizes on its own will. (I chose Smallest size, Georgia, for this and the first thing I wrote was undercased.)
Sincerely,
Your name.

Avenging the Lamb

So I've come across a not-too-unfamiliar idea.
It's for me to start being less pathetic.
From physical aspects to emotional; it all has to be improved upon
Changed
Rearranged
and jettisoned even.
I'm going to eat better at my three scheduled meals, regardless of my contempt with the food, for the sake of my health
and I am going to exercise a bit in my own privacy whenever appropriate.

I'm already taking artistic steps forward but I am still holding myself back, obviously. I will take more chances from now on-
especially with mixed media since I've always been reluctant to actually pull different 'non artistic' media and items and combine them together in an aesthetically appeasing way. Paper machete, old items and fabrics, dead animals- whatever the situation calls for I will make an effort to overstep my 'expected' boundaries and make something good for once.
I am too wrapped in concepts. Few times have I ever finished anything. Not even that redundant artist's line where 'nothing I ever make is truly ever finished.' As true as that may be, I mean rather generally, nothing I make is anywhere near done. Getting the color, composition, texture and all the elements and principles and combining them all in an art piece is something I'm not too adept at. Well I need to fix that..

And fix I will!

From my body, to art and now to my mind

I can't make any promises just yet but I will make more of an effort to escape this disgusting shell of mines and interact a bit more. Talk a bit more, stop holding my tongue. As far as I see it, I should stop worrying about the feelings and thoughts of other people, as predictable as they may be, because all it is doing is hindering me from making a move on anything. If someone wants to take offense to something I say or think of me as an idiot for a not-so-funny joke then they can bear the wrinkles from frowning on their own. As annoying as it may be for me, I'm going to take my chances to talk for once and only give half a shit for what is going on through the other person's head.
I'd get my thought out and still be giving half a shit more attention to the other person's easily readable tell-signs than normal people give; so all would still be pretty well, more or less.

Let's see what happens!

Maybe I'll fuck up and not do a thing, huh?

Or maybe I'll do it all perfectly and just end up screwing up something else in the process.
Either way...

Something's going to break and hopefully something will grow!

But whichever one happens, I'm still going to have to eat such a depressing meal 2-3 times a day.



Oh dear.

Opportunities and black stuff in the river

So I believe that I'm starting a new routine. There's a program at school called FEWs which gives me the opportunity to get some nude/clothed figure drawing practice, something that I've unfortunately was unable to really try before. It's on every weekday and I plan to, hopefully, go to it every chance from now till the end of the year.
There's a comfortable feel in the room and it isn't crowded or anything either so I can concentrate and relax while getting much needed practice all at the same time! Next semester/year, when my charcoal and graphite works look better, I'll start bringing my paints to this program and try figure painting. I will reap this opportunity for all it is worth! Haha

Other news..

Some waves of change needs to cross these still waters because they are growing most annoying. As pretty as the sunset looks across the calm ocean, the dark muck of a substance that floats under the skin of it still looks most disgusting. Like oil, it's just waiting for a spark of something to set everything to hell.

Oh dear.

The Boy and his Star

There was once a boy who..

Fell in love with a star
Night by Night he sat atop a hill
Watching the incandescent orb,
Wondering why it was born so far from him..

One night he was fed up with just watching
And he got the longest rope he could find
and attached it to the strongest arrow he could make
and went atop the hill, gazing at the star..

"I'll pull you to me" He promised, as he arched the bows' thread back
And the moment the wind stopped kissing the land
He let go of that arrow and watched it soar
Through the night.. hugging the starlight..

Sadly though, as you already know
Arrows can't reach stars so high.
So it just fell back to the ground
As quickly as the water in his eyes..

The boy, mourning, rowed the boat across the lake back home that night..


The Next day the boy went back to the hill
Watching the star up so high..
Determined to catch it this time
The love of his life.

He brought with him the same rope
That fell once before..
And a balloon he crafted that day
For the new plan that he dreamt

"This time it won't fall back" the boy stated
"You'll catch the balloon, and I'll climb to you!"
And the boy let the balloon float on up
Gently on its way, disappearing in the sky.

Tis a pity though, that the boy didn't know
That balloons won't do so good
At kissing a star
With a sky so brisk..


The boy, disheartened, rowed the boat across the lake back home again that night...


This time around as he rowed across the lake
Heading towards the hill once more
he suddenly stopped paddling
And drifted upon the water's face

The boy, now afraid to try again
Just sat there in the boat and cried
"Why must a star be so far away?"
"Why should I bother try?"

The star glowed brightly above him
But he couldn't bear to look up at it any longer
So the boy just kept his eyes to the water
Ripples spreading from the tears that he spent.

Remarkably though, a sparkle caught his eyes
The little boy leaned out over the boat's edge
And saw a glimmering so close below..
Beautifully trapped beneath the lake's surface

He dips his hands in and scoops the light
Hands cupped and still as he rose it closer to his face
It was the star he gazed after for so long!
Reflected brightly in his hands..

"I've failed in all attempts to catch you"
Reach out to you, draw you in..
Yet, here you are, floating in my hand
In the end.."

He looked up and smiled
Understanding what the star was telling him
And under his breath
He simply wished it goodnight

From that day on
The boy would come by, now and again
But this time he would just watch the star
Completely content with already catching it.