i am

(unfiltered, unedited)

i am decay
i am thoughts, fleeting and dreams evaporating
i am mist, fog
i am divide between attraction
i am battered memory, dispersing cloud
i am ungluing of collage, scattering in breeze
i am glass, reflection in a puddle
i am streak from tear on cheek
i am ache colliding with burning eyes and tightened throat
i am movement of the ripple through water, curtain, leaves
i am friction between blades
i am gradient between light and shadow
i am essence of the vibration of music
i am grasp from muscles tightened
i am the state between dreaming and waking
i am perhaps
i am ghost
i am the longing to rest on clouds
i am wind flowing through hair
i am dashed line, satellite to surface
i am force in wires communicating
i am another to you, one to me
i am beginning end nothing everything
i am spirit soul life self

i am

morning thoughts

was at one time the only option, or so I remember – but now all is tainted with uncertainty, doubt. hesitant to accept anything too readily, risking naive, gullible, loss, disappointment, disillusionment – even memories are untrustworthy. truth, reality – if they exist in any objective fashion – are hard to come by, impossible in fact, given my eyes covered with the lenses of subjectivity, my ears fitted with cochlear filters. purity is a lie. there are no guarantees, only an unending mess of entangled possibilities and what ifs and neither here nor there. an endless straddling of body thoughts head heart world dreams… there is only faith.
and death.

at least, it appears that way.

morning thoughts


(note: draft)

a void carved into the sphere
ceaselessly spinning

the green exterior
(green and brown and pavement)
is red within.
she bleeds
when the void is carved,
when the vein is punctured.
her blood is needed somewhere else—
needed or wanted
a fine line—
but moved regardless
(not destroyed, no matter how forceful,
for she can create no more within
except for without)—

positives and negatives
always add up
to that single turning zero
on which I stand;
and the positive in my hand
cannot be in yours
for the rules always apply
(or at least until proven guilty)—

the potter’s hands
covered red
mold her
form her anew;
a ballerina
once within the earth,
thrown into a second dance
a tighter pirouette
now spinning, spinning
on a ridged metal floor.



the silhouettes of warm bodies in the lights
flashing, jumping
blue and green, add purple.
subtract green.
red. bright white.
the bass throbs in my chest
beating, beating
my heart overthrown
(had it really beat before this moment?
I cannot recall…)

black balcony above
black railings, encircling
shadows hang beneath
in fact, the room itself a shadow
swallowing me
lights stark, blinking, beating

an unexpected breeze wound
through all those bodies,
all those legs,
and in the darkened room
found its way to my skin
brushed my body,
perched on the pit’s edge.
it whispered of the stars
finding the mute blackness above

now superfluous sweaters
tied around waists
accentuating hourglass figures—
unable to stop the flow of sand
leaking from cerebral storage
—arms raised with scene in hand
miniaturized, experience captive.
presumably preserved
but the resultant museum
made of yes’s and no’s,
the purest geometries,
discarded the maybes:
framed but filtered,

the ghost is dangerously convincing,

the fan above
(distant and lacking affect)


pod casts, i bite

So, I am newly into podcasts…which I must admit is not super surprising given the fact that two of the most influential people currently in my life (and probably the only two people to check this blog) are both into podcasts right now.  I’m skipping on the Serial trend for now, but This American Life and Invisibilia are both turning out to be quite interesting.  I’ve liked being able to listen to them while drawing lines repetitively in studio…I feel like I am learning more than I would by just listening to music.  And I am retaining a lot more that I thought I would, given the fact that it is auditory learning.  I typically write myself off as not learning well via auditory means (and it still is not my preferred method of learning) but it’s good to know my ears are still connected to my brain! Below are just a few quotes from one of the podcasts from Invisibilia that I found interesting or somehow connected to myself.  The podcast, in general, was about thoughts and the lenses we (and psychologists) tend to view them through.  The three basic categories were that thoughts are meaningful representations of something deeper within ourselves (Freudian) , thoughts must not be taken at face value but instead tested for truthfulness (CBT), and thoughts are meaningless and we should just detach ourselves from them.  These were talked about primarily in the context of NEGATIVE thoughts, so I’m not entirely sure where each of these theories would stand in regards to positive thoughts.  I would assume they would maintain their respective stances though.  Anyway, that’s all for now.

The Secret History of Thoughts

UNIDENTIFIED GIRL #2: I’m thinking, why did you ask me what I was just thinking? What did that have to do with what you were putting on the radio?

. . .

UNIDENTIFIED MAN #4: I’m waiting for the train, and the train is coming. And there’s this moment right when the subway train’s coming out of the tunnel and the lights are coming, this flicker of an impulse to just throw myself down the tracks.

. . .

SPIEGEL: So when a thought like that comes into their head, they try as hard as they can to push it away, but that, it just makes the thoughts grow stronger.

SPIEGEL: That’s the terrible irony of this condition. It’s exactly a person’s conscientiousness that makes the horrible thoughts return again and again and again.

pod casts, i bite

song for you

Song For You
(Alexi Murdoch)

So today I wrote this song for you
‘Cause a day can get so long
And I know its hard to make it through
When you say there’s something wrong

So I’m trying to put it right
‘Cause I want to love you with my heart
All this trying has made me tight
And I don’t know even where to start

Maybe that’s a start

‘Cause you know its a simple game
That you play filling up your head with rain
And you know you’ve been hiding from your pain
In the way, in the way you say your name

And I see you
Hiding your face in your hands
Flying so you won’t land
You think no one understands
No one understands

So you hunch your shoulders and you shake your head
And your throat is aching but you swear
No one hurts you, nothing could be sad
Anyway you’re not here enough to care

And you’re so tired you dont sleep at night
As your heart is trying to mend
You keep it quiet but you think you might
Disappear before the end

And it’s strange that you cannot find
Any strength to even try
To find a voice to speak your mind
When you do, all you wanna do is cry

Well maybe you should cry

And I see you hiding your face in your hands
Talking ’bout far-away lands
You think no one understands
Listen to my hands

And all of this life
Moves around you
For all that you claim
You’re standing still
You are moving too
You are moving too
You are moving too
I will move you

song for you