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Transitions

via tumblr

Returning to my blog after about two months of having gone MIA on its’ ass is testament to how much I have matured. Jokes. There has been no maturing, except with regards to my sexual appetite. TMI? Regardless, I have returned to something I have neglected.

Transitions are the few months that creep up on us with outlines of trees, and seashells, and abstract shapes that you may never be quite able to identify, which allow, nay, force you to fill in that shit like a coloring-book. Except, when life throws you coloring-book sketches, it often forgets to throw you a box of crayons. Maybe Life is just that considerate so as not to hit you in the head, or maybe Life doesn’t care unless you give It a reason to. Nevertheless, bitch needs her coloring utensils!

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via Tumblr

You rummage about your past and your desired future, hoping to discover anything that can help you fill in those sketches. If you’re lucky, you might find a Sharpie, or an almost-used-up highlighter.

I’m confused, I’m uncertain, I have cut loose all ties that have hindered my growth, however hard and courageous that may seem. I have written an article entitled 10 Things One Should Know About Dating A Compulsive Liar. I have finally begun to perform. I started babysiting two brothers, ages four-and-a-half, and nine, whose naivete have taught me more about life and the importance of humility than I could have possibly acquired from any other source. I have filled my days with tasks and errands and obligations, in part to better myself and maintain control of my life; and in part to teach myself how to survive in a world in which we are brought into, and depart, alone.

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Oh hey! That’s me!

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Me and my piano best friend flashing our pearly whites!

I am testing the waters; testing my surroundings. Seeing how far I can push before everything collapses. Trying to discover my limits as to what I can rebuild, and whether or not the foundations will be stronger this time around. I allow myself to test the people who claim to still love me, and I question whether love really has anything to do with a specific two people, or whether it is all based on timing. By utilizing every tool under the sun to pushing away the people who claim to love me through acting childish; using malicious words that hurt them below the belt; taking advantage of the attention they give me to see if they will stop giving me said attention; I try to discover if certain feelings can, in fact, surpass even the most awful attempts against them.

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Love and Naivete

If you can kick and scream and threaten, and act like you are trying to hurt someone, and have them acknowledge that you are inadvertently asking them to look at your attempts with a certain adoration, and understand that all you want is proof that they know you well enough to understand what you are doing; then perhaps the world doesn’t work as predictably as is presumed.

This transition is about having Life humor me by introducing facts and information and successes and feelings that I haven’t yet felt. Just when you think you have felt and seen everything there is to feel and see, a bird shits on your arm and you are forced to turn the around, wash it off whilst cussing under your breath, perhaps leading you to bump into another destination clad with feelings that you didn’t know existed.

Transitions are a scary thing. Being proactive is the surest way to maintaining a sense of self during such difficult times. An optimistic outlook is surely the mechanism with which to guide us to our next phases in life. I am proactively waiting in anticipation and excitement. Something amazing is just around the corner.

My head hurts, I’m out.

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And of course, in case you didn’t get the memo, you can catch my melodic ass here :

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Downtime Is Productive-time. Get Inspired.

Bradley Soileau. It’s pronounced “swallow.” Gladly. Just kidding, relax.  Even I have my limits.

Bradley Soileau.

Alright, limits shmimits

Phenomenal voice, phenomenal presence.

So real and unafraid. It’s liberating to see someone feel so liberated. Nasty and adorable at the same time. Azaelia Banks.

A beautiful model with a beautiful mind. Plus, she is wearing denim overalls. If A-L-E-X-A-C-H-U-N-G doesn’t spell I-N-S-P-I-R-A-T-I-O-N, then I don’t know what does. Actually, “inspiration” spells “inspiration,” but that is not the point.

The first time I watched the “Yonkers” music video, I was intrigued.  I found it to be absolutely disgusting; but “disgusting” is no longer a derogatory adjective, after having seen it.  Its syllables smoothly and systematically move into each other, like th vertebral column in a human back.  Tyler the Creator is so vile, so Disgusting, that he becomes sexy.  Extremely sexy.  And extremely inspiring

Want those Vans x Supreme Campbell’s shoes. Someone wanna hook it up?

The Supreme campaign is mind-boggling to me.  Throughout its eighteen year history, it has become a landmark on NY’s Lower East Side.  They have fun, stay real and authentic, and make bank.  Inspiration at its best.

Hey THAT’S ME!

I hope seeing some of these pictures makes you feel as uncomfortable as I felt putting them up.  However provocative they may seem, at least they evoke feeling.  Whether it is disgust, discomfort, attraction; we live during a time when people are always trying to push limits.  Sometimes, perhaps resulting from whole-hearted emotional investment in past relationships, I find that I have trouble experiencing emotions the way I used to.  For whatever reason, anything that can spark emotional interest sparks my interest.

She’s 10 years old.  Don’t know if I like what society has become, but this really affected me.

 

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May 21, 2012 · 10:02 pm

On Nostalgia and Being Young

Via http://milkstudios.tumblr.com/post/18078262672/backstage-kicks-photo-by-tyler-nevitt

Photo by Tyler Nevitt

Kicking it in kicked up kicks

With cars parked far but close to scars

That sting from younger careless days

When sun burned right through its own rays

Shades that glared in summers’ mists

As your hands took my writhing wrists

That winced and cracked from painful play

Whose hands, now empty, hurt to this day

But they hurt then and they hurt now and I wish that I knew how to

Let myself yell at those walls that seemed to stand so strong and tall

When everything around would fall and now I am a

Tether ball

Tossing throwing slamming books

That seemed to stab like crooked hooks

Digging in heels we could not feel

Because young at any price was a steal

Words that mean that words are mean

When meanings often aren’t seen

Though you may look and try to find

What seemed to always hide behind

A selfish word a careless world

You can blame neither him nor her

The dog that ate your birthday cake

As your heart hurt and its limbs ached

From sugars tinge too sweet to take

For animals who know not of what is at stake.

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