lost

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i am struggling to gather the pieces of myself that have my brother’s signature on them, and there are a lot. i warned my husband and best friend that this is going to be really bad. i am broken and broken-hearted.

ethan is gone.

i keep saying aloud, ‘no.’ as if saying it could make it true. i am finding him everywhere i look exactly as i did when he was alive and just across the country, except now i can’t message him to tell him he’s on my mind. all i want is him near me so i went on an expedition to unpack boxes i’ve neglected since i moved over a year ago. there are little things i was saving that i needed to hold. his old business card. the dvds he made. my copy of hitchhiker’s. a vhs tape of a music video from high school. my ex’s (his childhood best friend) old films. i can’t bring myself to watch anything yet but knowing i could put my hands on them at any moment is keeping me afloat.

i have barely left my living room decked out in fallout collectibles, an obsession he grew in me. the funny soda can pigs he made me with a pocket knife are around my house. i had only seen him a handful of times since he left the state and still he was in my daily life. i feel like i’m missing a limb.

i don’t know how to be without him. it’s hard to think. my local surrogate family has rallied around me hard and i am incredibly lucky to have a place to fall apart, which is exactly what i’ll be doing for the foreseeable future. he’s changed my life twice now, knowing him and losing him. i owe him so much that i’ll never get the chance to repay face-to-face. i sent him a link to my last entry when i first posted, and made a point to tell him who he was to me any chance i got: my family. that i saw him working hard and knew he deserved to see every dream he had come true. he earned that more than most and it’s not fucking fair.

i will never forget a light so brilliant and warm, no matter the distance. i love you always, my beautiful brother.

(brittany, me, & ethan, who had just slathered my nose in ice cream before the camera timer snapped the photo. october 2015)

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50/50

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this is a sensitive one. first, it’s been a long time since a melody has come with lyrics. this one did.

i go back and forth between loving and hating it. it’s stuck in my head. and it’s been so long since that’s happened, i’ve been staring at it and hearing it, over and over. i can’t decide if i love it or hate it. posting to get some distance.

second and lastly, i self-doubt, over-analyze, overthink…i live so in my head i’m often the last to pick up on details outside of my focus. my naivety is a running gag. but if i infer a thing that interests me, watch out. i’ll be immersed in moments. i can drown.

the lyrics

flipping a coin would provide the same clarity
given a choice i will see what i want to see
raise myself high just to slam myself low
it’s a horrorshow horrorshow horrorshow

picking up vibes like they’re clues you’ve been dropping
i’ll believe what i want given the option
with little evidence i draw conclusions
find hidden meaning in my own delusions

set me straight
i need a good talking to
my head’s way past the clouds
among the stars with you

trace a new constellation
is this intuition
who am i listening to

i’ll take an observation
to a full obsession
is it me or is it you

reading the signs from the angle you offer me
picking and choosing what i count as prophecy
what do i trust of the who where and why
when it’s not written in crystalline sky

i can’t shut down all these signals receiving
and without the facts i have trouble believing
what do i trust of the when where and how
who is living in the dream world now

set me straight
i need a good talking to
put it in black and white
tell me the truth

trace a new constellation
is this intuition
who am i listening to

the smallest slights
turn my days to nights
is it me or is it you

who am i listening to
i don’t know how to lose
tell me the truth

talk about it

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wordpress app, why didn’t i discover you earlier?

i’ve referenced consumers of art adding their own layers before, and while i hate to admit this (because it makes me feel like a cheater), i have a trick that helps me when i’m stuck.

sometimes i get lucky with a song and the words come with a melody. buuuttt this hasn’t happened since high school. i decided i can’t stop trying just because the stars aren’t aligned to give me all my creative bursts at once.

so. if i plateau when writing lyrics, i match the beat structure to a song i like. if i can sing it along to an existing tune it usually helps shake out the remaining lyrics stuck in my brain.

it’s also a bad trap because it makes me lazy on the music…but because i haven’t composed since maybe 2003? i figure it can’t hurt to borrow a tune for my private headcanon until something original comes along.

i feel like a thief when i do this, even though no one would’ve known if i hadn’t spilled my tea everywhere. i don’t perform my words with anyone else’s music without permission. yet the inspiration still makes me feel like a phony. not being real is such a hang-up of mine.

anyway. my partner in faux-crime today was ingrid michaelson’s parachute. i heard it for the first time earlier this month and spent my morning listening to the four remixes on spotify. on repeat. ad nauseum. which is how i like to experience everything i love. i wear things i love so thin they become a ragged security blanket i can’t bring myself to throw away. but that’s a story for another day.

ugh now i’m worried i drew too much inspiration after rereading obsessively but here i go throwing caution to the wind via the post button. maybe i suck but that’s the risk i’m taking!

the lyrics

give me the smile
that buckles my knees
flash me the blues all across this screen

touch my skin
in my dreams
if i could make any mistake i please

but i won’t
no i won’t
but i won’t
no no no i won’t

tease my heart
with such blithe irony
yes i see you but do you see me

hold me a beat
to change our key
of course i want you to dance with me

but i won’t
no i won’t
but i won’t
no no no i won’t

don’t, let’s
talk about it
i can’t
talk about it
no, let’s
talk about it
i don’t want to talk about it

lift me up, up
pull me down, down
i want to talk about it
no more chasing round

don’t let’s
talk about it
i can’t
talk about it
hope we
talk about it
i don’t want to talk about

lift me up, up
pull me down, down
let’s not talk about it
bury my heart underground

touch my lips
i won’t stop you now
wait a minute i’ve tripped i’m falling off this cloud

hit the ground
i can’t figure out
i’d tell you everything if i could only make a sound

but i won’t
no i won’t
but i won’t
oh no no i won’t

take your time
i’ll wait patiently
oh no i won’t i need the cure for this disease

take your time
wait for me
i’ll stand in line while i’m here begging on my knees

but i won’t
no i won’t
but i won’t
no no no i won’t

don’t, let’s
talk about it
i can’t
talk about it
no, let’s
talk about it
i don’t want to talk about it

lift me up, up
pull me down, down
i want to talk about it
no more chasing round

don’t let’s
talk about it
i can’t
talk about it
hope we
talk about it
i don’t want to talk about

lift me up, up
pull me down, down
let’s not talk about it
bury my heart underground

spit it out

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first post from my phone. i am avoiding all responsibility because my body has stopped functioning properly from stress. i had to take a minute to do some blood-letting aka writing.

it’s been over six months since i last posted but at least this time i’ve been continuously capturing my writing snippets. this one spit itself out this morning because my brain couldn’t process anything until i got it out of me. i’m still not okay but fuck it. i will be again someday.

the lyrics

i’m wide-eyed oblivious
no, it’s not obvious
i can’t read into anything because i read into everything

spell it out for me

it’s dangerous
you’re contagious
the spectrum i’m running it’s running away with my well being

this time
it’s not right
but my body it screams every day
to find
the time
some tucked away corner
in my mind
where we
can hide

here i was hoping
heart expanding, contracting
toss turning because i can’t get to sleep

here i was wanting
here i am fading
from living off what you allow me to keep

i can’t sleep

spit it out
spit it out
spit it out
spit it out
spit it out
spit it out
spit it out

Not My (Poe)try

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I share a birthday with Edgar Allan Poe. I wish I could write like him.
I shared a city with Amanda Palmer. I wish I could write like her. This bit from her latest blog has me in tears over my long lost someone who won’t speak to me.
it’s your right
to be angry.
it’s your right
to remove me.
it’s your right
to march forth and
with pride
de-tattoo me.
but it’s also my right
to embrace you, and tightly;
while you exercise loudly
your right
to not love me.
and as hate lingers thick
like a black cloud above you
pile ink upon ink
I’m still there
underneath.
i’m still there
and still love you.

Street & Gallery

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I’m definitely guilty of scrolling past a video in my feed that is past a bizarre and arbitrary “time scale.” In retrospect, under 20 minutes doesn’t seem like much time but in the internet world it is an ice age-length. But this was like breakfast for my soul upon waking. Take the time.

Dioniso Punk

Borondo cov

The punk rock connection to graffiti is as strong as any subculture’s — or of any people who feel marginalized in effect or practice by the dominant culture preventing their voice. The narrative the graffiti belonging exclusively to Hip Hop has been posited and disproved over time although as Jesus said, “Graffitti belongs to everyone.”

Modern French academics and intellectuals have celebrated graffiti and Street Art by way of political protest at least since the late 1960s and early 70s, first with the Situationists and later with the aesthetics and artistry of people like Ernest Pignon-Ernest and Gérard Zlotykamien.

In “Street & Gallery” we see that the need for expression, illegal and otherwise, is as urgent as ever in the Street Art scene in Rome today and for many it is a means to express opinions and philosophies that they hope will in turn push greater society forward in some…

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