Between the Bars.

drink up, baby, stay up all night
the things you could do, you won't but you might
the potential you'll be, that you'll never see
the promises you'll only make

drink up with me now and forget all about the pressure of days
do what I say and I'll make you okay and drive them away
the images stuck in your head

people you've been before that you don't want around anymore
that push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

drink up, baby, look at the stars
I'll kiss you again between the bars where I'm seeing you
there with your hands in the air, waiting to finally be caught

drink up one more time and I'll make you mine
keep you apart deep in my heart separate from the rest
where I like you the best and keep the things you forgot

the people you've been before that you don't want around anymore
that push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still


Dear Elliott--
How is it possible that you knew me so well?
I wish your stupid girlfriend hadn't killed you.

Cognito ergo sum.

An old joke describes a man falling from the top of a very high building. As he speeds past the thirtieth floor, someone shouts "How're you doin'?" "So far so good!" is his optimistic reply. What is tragically laughable is this person's disregard for the dimension of the possible that is essential to his situation. That possibility is diminishing at the rate of gravity.


But what is the philosophy of this generation? Not God is dead, that point was passed long ago. Perhaps it should be stated Death is God. This generation thinks--and this is its thought of thoughts--that nothing faithful, vulnerable, fragile can be durable or have any true power. Death waits for these things as a cement floor waits for a dropping light bulb. The brittle shell of glass loses its tiny vacuum with a burst, and that is that.

Things I've Been Really Into As Of Late.

Steampunk.
Crocheting.
Cowl necks.
Rekindling my love of Existentialist philosophy.
Frederick Nietzsche's moustache.
Repurposed jewelry.
Sigur Ros.
Quirky cross-stitchings.
Integrating color into my wardrobe.
Gardening, particularly vegetable gardens.
Skeleton keys.
Literary tattoos.
Independent bookstores (particularly the one I seek employment at).
Learning to knit more advanced projects.
Relishing in simply being. (well, I'm trying. babysteps.)
Vivaldi.
Nursing my ever-evolving sense of misanthropy.
Creating insanely detailed mental illustrations of my future life with Cody.
Turner's asthma.
Elliott Smith. (not just for those suicidal nights anymore!)
Letting go.

"In the depth of winter I finally learned
that there was in me an invincible summer."

Mama and...

"Dada knows everything. Dada spits on everything. Dada says 'knowthing,' Dada has no fixed ideas. Dada does not catch flies. Dada is bitterness laughing at everything that has been accomplished,sanctified...Dada is never right...No more painters, no more writers, no more religions, no more royalists, no more anarchists, no more socialists, no more police, no more airplanes, no more urinary passages...Like everything in life, Dada is useless, everything happens in a completely idiotic way...We are incapable of treating seriously any subject whatsoever, let alone this subject: ourselves."

Soundtrack to this post:
Don't Go Near the Water
Sunflower/Surf's Up
Beach Boys

I Heart Art.

So after the great meltdown of December, I'm vowing myself to revamp this thing and keep it current.

I'm taking some really artsy classes this semester and it has refreshed my creative side to a point where I feel restless if I'm not creating something. I've fallen back in love with Art History (even though my professor is out-of-this-world nutso) and have begun collecting images; images of fashion, people, places...really just anything that is beautiful or inspires me.

First up is Rococo interior design.

So sensuous and feminine...and so very French. Characterized by gold leafing, sweeping curves, whimsical ornamentations, large mirrors, and warm colors, this 18th century artistic movement perfectly depicted the elegance and beauty of the Parisian bourgeois lifestyle.

After the dark and brooding years of Baroque, Rococo brought light and joy back into the art world. Although the interior design aspect of Rococo was presented in a complete and very formal set, the furniture, paintings, and sculpture of the movement hinted at movement and fluidity.

I'm usually not a huge fan of decadent ornamentation and super-detailed interiors, but there is something so soft and alluring about this style...I just can't stay away.