MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

Last thoughts.

Last Day Dream [HD] from Chris Milk on Vimeo.

This song was requested by a friend, and really struck a chord with me. Here are the lyrics. It is about overcoming obstcles and trials. 

It is by Ryan Adams and The Cardinals and is called Stop.

Stop.

I know a sickness so ancient and cross

No crucifix could ever fix enough

In the basement of a church 

These people, they talk

There is a line that must be walked

If you wanna make it stop, then stop.

I know a place where the future is denied 

I know a hand that twitches inside

For some of us the glass is filled with lights

But if the honey makes you sick

Honey, there is a line that must be walked

If you wanna make it stop, then stop, stop

Slow down, you don't have to talk

Lie down, breathe, stop

Slow down, it's not your fault

Look around, there's so many of us

So many of us, you are  not alone

Ever, ever, ever, stop.

Call in the backup and the backup comes

But nobody can help you if you won't

Inside your chest, your heart is just heart

Behind your eyes, a need replaced, a want

I know a sickness so ancient and cross

No crucifix can ever fix enough

I know a past when the future is lost

I know a line that must be walked

There is a darkness and there is a light 

And there is a choice 

For a balance to be made every night

Weakness must be found

If you want it to stop, stop, stop.

I need to be free now.

Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

These things I love for sure.

1. Highway Chile by Jimi Hendrix
2. How old blues artists age with such grace.
3. Riding in 1964 trucks drinking a coke slurpee
4. Not texting but calling.
5. Laughing at old charter school memories.
6. The thought of sailing.
7. Letting things be.
8. Real conversations.
9. 1964 Light blue Ford Falcons.
10. Reading on quiet days.
11. Being absolutely satisfied with a busy day.
12. This picture.

My dream, my baby.

Someday....she'll be mine.

I  mean seriously...woof.

My obvious favorite song right now.

It hits me in a spot that hasn't been reached in years...

Indescribable.

Beauty.

Pure.

We are all are beating. 

In a sweet singing silence, I'm wrapped in lavender cloth with three others. Our eyes dark. The sky quiet with anticipated rain. Macy snaps pictures relentlessly. I can't help but look at the contrast my feet make against the dry dirt. It will soak up rain soon. I can only comfort it now. Maybe I'll do the same. After all, we all need the rain. 

The clouds loomed as we giggled. The sky changed every moment. I searched it. I caught myself looking to it every few seconds. I felt the tall grass on my legs. Rough and beautiful. Through my hands they were sticky and wanted to be in my hands. 

Laughing as the skies changed.

My words are so simple today...

I feel simple and quiet. I just want to read in my bed all night. 

I miss the sun.

However, we all need the rain.

Yesterday I rode my bike through the rain, peddling fast to get home, then slowing down, finding myself unusually happy. I smiled, laughed, shouted in the rain. Soaking and silly. My dear bike and I. So happy. So alive. These rainy days are so unusual. Filled with a nostalgic memory that is uncatchable. I remember it like an old friend. The sun, the rain, old friends, old cronies. I have a feeling that they feel it is good to see me, as I feel it is good to see them. Perhaps I make them feel alive as I dance or bask in their beauty. Perhaps I'm just encouraging them to do their worst, the mischiefmakers. Like children. I was beginning to dry out. Only the rain could quench that dryness. That missing piece. I'm like the dry dirt on the ground, watching the clouds with hope, with anticipation, thirsty and crying to be filled. I am the dirt, the dirt is me. 

We all need the rain.

Amazing...

A friend recently told be about this artist, Brian Kershisnik, and I am absolutely in love. I adore his paintings. One of my favorites is the Adam and Eve one. It's such a unique view and so beautiful. Take time to look at each one's individuality and story. These paintings are just telling stories of life, I feel like I live in them. It is not very often that I feel that connected to and art piece. There is something so whimsical and magical about it. The stories and elegance and feeling portrayed is amazing. It's incredible how simple a painting can be yet can say so much just by the expression or gentleness. It is such talent to make something so beautiful, say so much. Please enjoy.

Mother and Child and Sparrows

Flight Practice Instruction

Two Ideas

The Rain

Gardening in the Rain

While Walking

Lovers Running

When to Stop

Hard Lessons

Sisters

She Weeps at The Beauty of Fruit

Curtain

Eating Peaches

Reading a Small Book

Madonna and Child

Mending

Adam and Eve

Hole 

Three Sleeping Musicians

Lovers 

Lovers Between Trees

Woman Between Trees

Musician Sleeps

Bittersweet summertime.

Today I woke up to a nose full of blood, almost about to stream down my cheek. I have no idea how I can jolt out of sleep to realize that my nose is bleeding and run to the bathroom so quickly. I cannot comprehend how I know how to do this so quickly so the blood doesn't fall all over my pillow. 

I quickly stuff toilet paper up my nose to fall asleep again.

Right now I shiver. Crickets chirp.

Quiet summer nights. Simple and sugary  sweet.

I wandered through the bookstore today. Touching books, fingers running over their spines. Waking them up. Flipping through them. Disturbing them from their long slumber. I picked a winner today. I cannot wait to read them. They await me and I eagerly will devour them. 

I've needed nourisment for my hungry mind.

I love myself so I'm going to the Self help section.

I found myself crying to Led Zeppelin music videos. 

Is it possible for music to touch lives in such an immaculate way? 

Perhaps little things in life just affect me so deeply. 

I feel awake. And tired. 

I need someone to share my ideas, thoughts, and sayings with.

I need someone to tell me their opinions.

Any takers?

I'll be here, in my coccoon of books, papers, and pens. Feasting on words untill you come.

Any takers at all?

I have forgotten how much I adore Jack White.

My dream bed.