I love sweat pants. I love what Rocky wears when he works out.

The background/foreground noise: Keziah Jones - AFROSURREALISMFORTHELADIES


Back again, and it feels normal. Anti-climatic. And I mean that in a non-derogatory way. It is now routine, which is alright. Anything exciting planned? Just gather the material things, and read some things. I actually seem to have a lot of expectations for the next few days and what not. Of tasks, completely minor, which set the foundation for fulfilling other tasks coming on.

In the last couple of days I have allowed myself to get caught up in thinking about things that bug me. Personality disorders to be exact. Yet, I find that term completely misleading. Well wait, I am getting caught up in the connotation of personality disorder. Someone isn't acting quite right, they're probably acting crazy, whatever that means. Loopy, extremes in behavior and mood.

(The other day, I wrote down, "by critiquing we expose ourselves.) We come to "know" the world, in how we know ourselves. We paint the world with our filters. That being said...

These personality disorders. Conversely, are there any ordered personalities? What is order? What is order in relation to chaos? Chaotic order, and ordered chaos. We could look at the colour red and call it blue.

Nominal, is a cool concept. By using the word red, we are addressing the word, and not the object. There is no objective red. Objectivity. Abstraction.

Do you ever wonder what you are talking about?

I have brought this up in conversations with Mareena and Shaun. It's refreshing. It's remembering the train that you ride is on tracks. Who put the tracks there. Who's initiating the conversation.

It's interesting how conversation takes place. Instead of speaking of one truly singular object, it is two (yet more) sources, blending in all their experience and ideas, into one. A melange. Maybe the singular comes out afterwards. On the recorded cassette of the interaction.

At times I want to record a lot of my interactions and conversations with people. I love being able to go back through texts. I love how conversations never die. Always changing it seems. Reading things more than once is epic too. Each time you go through the words, just totally different. You, the words, the temperature of the pages. Somehow, always meaning different.

Shane and I got stoned the other day, and that was lovely. I really like thinking and wondering about ideas with people. Sometimes I feel like they're not as into it as I am. Or it is strange. Just sitting down and wondering is an amazing thing.

Yes, think. But we all think about different things. I'm not saying that I'm a miraculous genius, and I feel I must say this, because I feel a bit self-conscious, interesting, that strangers are out there reading this. Not really though, this site is quite inactive. But, interesting.

There was a book today in Chapters that I was wanting to get for some fleeting moments. It had a title something along the lines of, "in an interconnected world: establishing the boundaries" Might is right. Just because you can, should you? There is temptation to say that, "well, we put our shit out there, so people know that trash is public space." And, know, that I am talking to myself in these moments. And the world.

Curiousity.

There was also this book, "The Good Book. A humanitarian bible." or something. Sounds interesting. I didn't much like it though, I read barely anything of the text, but i like the idea of me rewriting the bible into how I saw it, and agreed with it. I'm still hovering around the sexual orientation stuff.

Daniel once said (something along the lines of) What makes more sense for a religious society to gain power, but to condemn non-heterosexual relations, to make as many children as possible, and thus sexual reproduction becomes not about hedonistic pleasure, but pious, only to brew more of its like.

I feel like there are four of me inside of me.

Maybe that's why I have to speak out the thoughts from my head. The noise inside becomes so congested. Which do I listen to?

I love words and communicating. I love having a lot of stimulation. What is boredom?

I can get bored outside doing things, I can get bored a lot. In any experience.

You can just think outside of the experience, and you may become bored of the experience.

I watched the second Hunger Games in theatres last night. Last night was night. I was angry and couldn't fall asleep, my mom comes in and asks me what's up, "Can't sleep?" "Yes, because I am thinking of all the things that make me angry." So she gets me to vent. And I do. And after a while I become conscious that we have just been talking about me for a while, with me doing a lot of the talking. So I ask her what's up.

I soon become tired, and wanna fall asleep. Mm, love those moments. Went to bed at 2am, and woke up at 9. Oh, maybe that's not as crazy as I thought it would be.

But the Hunger games is a good movie, and it has a good plot, but i was bored within it. I was not bored when it came to...fighting the monkeys? Something along those lines, where my mom and I were busting in our seats and whatnot, tense, all our bodies tense, readjusting, and trying to find comfort. Holy, so scared? yikes. That was nice. Good involvement.

It was the plot that didn't get me. The formula and how they filmed it was good and effective, I just didn't care about it. I could not have been there. That's how I feel about sex, and talking to people at times. When and where I am not present. Oh gosh, should I be present? No. It's just that, I like doing things sometimes, and for however long or not. Boredom man. Need a change of .. pace? Stimulation? Environment? Yes.

Which brings me to ideas, they can changed so quickly. And also painting. The image changes so quickly, even when it's done slowly, but the involvement is a constant revealing.

Cigarettes and meals, a lot of the times I don't need the rest beyond the start, yet I continue.

I got bored thinking a lot during the biking trip. A lot of the times I would want to read, something more than billboards, and perhaps sit and play some piano and music. Most I did musically was sing with my voice. Zoning out, when it happens/happened, was/is awesome.

I think I am done writing for tonight. Thank you... abyss.

Of people, robots, spy agencies and whatevernot and inbetween.

just because someone is willing to do it, or you have them wrapped around your finger, avoid the temptation in asking them to do it. Why are you asking them? What are your intentions? And what do you want? What do you want them to want? Though, you know their intentions and reactions behind the direction, why play the victim (i [pre]suppose) when they play out their cards.

is it there? or is it just me.

Thanks! Bye for now.

Mornings adrift.

Darling, we have so much to see.

Soley - Pretty Face

    I'm enjoying Soley's accent a she sings.  I do not think she is from Scotland, but I have an urge to go there now. Why not. Why question some things? Maybe I was in tuned with some part of my pre-determined life, when at 19 I said I'd like to go to Scotland by the age of 23. 

Hah! I am 22 and a half years old, to this day. Count my age, by counting the rings on my fingers - free since day one.  Let me live in words.

 

In need of music.

Oh phone, where are you. Music to my soul, fuel to my endurance, I need your data. I need your batteri, and the earphones into you I plugged. Your output is my input. My input, your output, out putting me to my family, and few friends.

Where I thought I knew I put you, you are gone. Vanquishing, only leaving me with doubt. Fragments of a memory, not knowing where you rest now after I held you in my hands.

Coming back to my house, I cannot find you. Maybe you still lay in my bag at school. Doubting again. Will I ever find you?

Over and Over again.

Good Morning,

I am listening to four windows of this playlist, it's quite interesting: Rec Royal playlist #9


I have definitely three pages ready for the book, but also one more. Which is just as much finished, it could be enhanced a bit. I had some serious involvement with the production of these images/drawings yeseterday. Holy. Three brownies : ), ahahaha. And then three more later on in the day. The trouble is, I feel like you can only get one eureka high during the day. Maybe. One we're you're super active, and not super tired. That, also I wasn't peaking in energy come the nighttime. I will probably end up adjusting that last maybe image.

Just keep on going, and hopefully you will like it.

or

Just keep on going, until you like it.


Mm?

Today is a day

Is today as weird as it feels?

Sooner than you notice, the same day that happened last week appears again.

Life just.. not zooming.. before your eyes.. the sensation of it zooming by occurs, when one mind remembers instances long ago. For a young mind with little memory, perhaps life is long, and delayed. Zooming is a by-product of memory. Yet also.. it can feel like it's been a long time.

Maybe none of this is decipherable, because, it's just however you feel that day. And however you feel affects, and filters your memories, and in what honor or non-honour you wish to recollect them.

This is the playlist to set the mood

Just walking into the kitchen today. Microwave some soup I made two nights ago. Why do I have to eat over and over again? My mood: not too spectacular, sluggish. By-product of said mood: Calm, looking for the spectacle.

Limbo: Smoke a cigarette? Write out nothing? Read? Eat?

I have class in an hour and a half, and that feels like a short amount of time, because it feels like a short amount of time. I slept in late, maybe this reflects it all. I dislike going to bed at midnight, it's stupid really. I know the consequences. It's waking up at 930, fuck. Too tired.

Maybe there are no answers, just imagination.

There are words that I repeat to myself oftentimes. Let's call them monthly themes. And one has been, "Be true to your emotions, but do not sabotage yourself."

This is where I feel self-judgement comes into good use. Self-critical? But.. with what theme? With what garnish? This can leave someone feeling very badly, or of no purpose, useless, or.. awesome?

Okay.

Two things, yet... sort of one signal:

A bite. And a nibble. Both involve using the teeth, and closing the jaw, and let's say it's on flesh. Because I like flesh.

Now. The bite, connotes something bad, like either a defensive or offensive measure.

The nibble is cute, sensuous, done in bed, you know, lovey dovey.

Now, two things, but seemingly one. To judge.

Now, judging yourself.. you can do it, because you feel like you need to put yourself down. Your goal is to see bad and maliscious judgements on the self.

Yet, also. There is making judgements, or gadging, or thinking critically.. it's seeing things as they are, acknowledging your moods, and how they affect the assessment, especially if you are assessing yourself. Now, if you're doing this all because you want self-improvement, then.. right on. Right on right on.

But of course maybe, don't think too much in life, just go with it.

Two photos I will include. One of this drawing sculpture I made, and another of the current stage my stone carving is in. I mapped out the chains. There is a very large error in how I carved it, but let's see how it turns out.. it's fucking.. ludacris. But more on that later...

Oh, and this is a good message from a Church, from Emo, Ontario's website.
"For some people, stepping through the doors of a church is a life-giving, routine event, while for others it can be an intimidating and fearful activity that they have avoided for years.  Whatever your background or experience with followers of Jesus, we at Calvary Baptist Church invite you to join us on a Sunday morning as we study God’s word, the Bible, together and seek to have it shape our thoughts and actions."

 I like it because I'm the one where it's not a routine, haha. Fully intimidating. HAH! Just a set of doors, but means a lot more. mm.

No more standing.

One song. One fucking song only;

http://youtu.be/cbpP4iQlpb0

Take the edge off

http://youtu.be/0tcDXJfAFVw

A pusher.

You want to hear some words?

Nervous, but doesn't want to show it, she puts the poem she'll read atop of a stand. Now, her hands are free. And as she breathes, exhales song and feeling, and inhaling grief, lonely breathes pumping her life, she reads..

[ All fools in love

blown by the wind.

Optimism flourishing

an impossibility

I wake up

worried about the distance

just wait it out

Perhaps she's making it worse

makes me guilty for wanting it

we are waiting

Powered by your emotions

maybe it will love you back

get driven

crave them at times

a fabulous breath of 

Sourir sans caution

The sunrise is around now

I think  I am here

eyes still tired

Tumbleweed comes

wise, they became fools

a dream, fully real

whatever it is, it was beautiful ]

Stepping back, she hopes she was as clear and audible as she hopes. She hopes no quivers dwelled in her voice. She hopes her voice was strong. I wonder what pictures they all thought. I want them to see this paper, so she moves away and permits them to hopefully stand and look at the following images.

Three black ballpoint ink drawings, and three typewritten poems. How are they arranged?

[ Over skin, feeling you softly
This is my remedy
Smiling at me. Hey.
if I am angry, it comes from resent
People doing whatever they want
Remain Honest ]

[ I wake up.
Worried about the distance
Perhaps she's making it worse
just wait it out. ]

[ He shows me the sounds of some words
a fabulous breath of
an impossibility
Rewarding inasmuch as it is scary
in those situations
wise, they became fools
I am tired of being scared ]

_._.-.-._._.-._._._.-.-._._.-._._._.-.-._._.-._._._.-.-._._.-._._._.-.-._._.-._._._.-.-._._.-._._._.-.-._._.-._._

 Hey. My teacher Dan had demonstrated this really neat method on word/phrase/image construction. He cut out lines of words, from magazines, into strips, and after having acquired a collection, he randomly selects a few of them, providing him with phrases/images/pictures/verses.

So I went home and did the same, but used my typewritten entries, and a few from earlier journals this year, as my lyrical foundation. Feels better. Feels.. more reflective, and practical. Before I was questioning, "But who's words ARE these?!" I like it when they are more my own.

Anyways. This, is an experiment.

I've drawn out one image already. Who know it if it will be used.

But, let's continue.

This is one of those.. weed projects.