i'll have a manhattan please.

They waited in line for a circus.
It's not worth it, she claimed.
But they waited anyway.
The sky was an off white gray.
Velvet when they left.
Some canines sniffed around as
genuinely shallow conversations emerged.
Bowls were emptied.
We disperesed.
The night continued with dissappointment
And ended with Manhattan beautes.
Fin with chai.

reminiscence

What is it about reminiscing that makes the past seem so much better than it actually was?
Looking through old photo's is a dirty trick, especially in this digital age where you can keep and delete whatever you please. It's like creating a past for yourself the way you want it to be remembered, like old history books that are no longer reliable, biased and untrue. I've spent the last week looking through old photo's at my parents house and old photo's saved on my computer and it feels like I'm looking through a window into another lifetime of another person. "That's not me, is it?" is the thought constantly running through my mind. It's hard to look at pictures of myself and my family, looking wholesome and dandy on a family Christmas vacation, or a deliriously happy smile plastered across my own face snuggled up to someone I once called my other. This makes it difficult to remember the hard times, especially when it's hard to imagine that these times even existed. I leafed from photo to photo, through box to box, from digital album to digital album, skimming through the perfectly composed tri-pod/timer set family photo "masterpieces," desperately hunting for those genuine moments and expressions that only a photograph could capture. There were quite a few within those piles actually, who knew. Turns out a photo can deceive but also reveal a pure and honest moment. I always get a pang of guilt with a dash of depression looking through old photos the way I have been. Maybe I should stop. "So, they love me in indescribable amounts. Unconditional. But they drive me fuckin crazy." "So, they were once young and beautiful and full of hopes and dreams." "So, I really did break his heart, I guess." "So, we were once the best of, and I've deemed never to speak to you again." "So, we went our separate ways and that's just the way it is." "So, he's got a new family now and could care less about me." "So, you were my idol and for some reason you still are." Some additional thoughts that decided to make an appearance. Obsessed with reminiscence. I'm pretty sure it's another unhealthy obsession to add to my list.

disintegration

The innocence is slowly chipping away
from an element that I once thought was solid
and precious.
It sure as fuck ain't pure either.
I'm watching it disintegrate
in slow motion. 

"what will grow crooked you can't make straight. It's the price that you gotta pay"

"cause this is fucked up, fucked up"

blurb on 8/20

Little did I know that one the most grueling days I've had at work would end with the one of the most amazing Red Rocks experiences I've ever had. I dragged home from an 11 hour work day, partially not even wanting to go to the show due to exhaustion, and attempted to mentally prepare myself to encounter the thousands of people that would attend, because a friend of mine happened to have a ticket for me and it was an opportunity not even a fool should turn down. I was about to see Rodrigo Y Gabriella, rhythmic gods on the acoustic guitars, to say the least. We chugged some Stella's in the parking lot and hiked our way up those horrendous Red Rocks stairs, making our way through quite the eclectic gathering of people to get to the top. I was insufficiently buzzed and fuckin spent by the time we sat down with our ridiculously over priced Red Rocks beers in hand. As I sat there trying to regain my energy, and telling myself to fuck all the life issues I've recently been encountering and to just enjoy the show, the lights turned off and the duo emerged from the darkness and onto the stage. Finally the yammering of all the hippies, hipsters and middle aged beige toned people around me stopped (although this is when the hootin' and hollerin' began) and their music, as well as the smell of weed, started to fill the amphitheater. I didn't give a shit about anything anymore because I began to feel that special high I get from beautiful music in my chest and throughout my entire body. Soon it just consumed me. I had gotten my fix and suddenly all of my troubles were forgotten. I stood there, soaking up the beauty of Red Rocks, the splendor of their music, and the majestic Colorado skies as my overly enthusiastic friend continuously bounced around next to me, yelling excited profanities throughout the entire show, while the hand full of middle aged attendees occasionally glanced back to see him damn near tears, he was so excited. Rodrigo was a god and Gabriella was a goddess in their plain shirts, jeans and tennis shoes. I lost myself in the music...

this video doesn't even do it justice for how beautiful it was but my best attempt to capture it at least.



Sadly, it ends quite abruptly but I had to set the camera down and enjoy the show!

denver knights

As requested per JGA, and because youtube blocked my video.




Denver on a Thursday night.

undone

I've been pretty wound up for the past few years of my life, caught up in the chaos of work and school. Since graduating in May, I've taken notice to bits and pieces of my life coming undone. Aspects of life that I used to be so sure of no longer make sense and I'm starting to get quite cozy in this place called limbo. I know this may seem like quite the cliché of a post-grad rant, but I guess that's because it is, simple as that. I am Benjamin in The Graduate, in a giant scuba suit, jumping into a pristine pool as adults yell things at me while I don't listen, wanting nothing but to get laid and for people to leave me the hell alone. "Ben, what are you doing?" "Well, I would say that I'm just drifting. Here in the pool." "Why?"

Well that's a GREAT question.

I'm leaving this post the way it is. Even if it makes absolutely no sense. Much like my life right now.

half asleep

Sometimes I go whole days
listening bored, half sleep
I won't say anything
that's worth a thing to me
One day, suddenly, time
took a turn that once felt so brief
I blinked to see polite ghosts fading quickly

What begins as an unguarded
train of thoughts slowly can become
an addiction to the slumber
of disconnection and the resonance
of memory that no longer has a shape
but keeps you numb through
the hours till gone is another day

Be aware, my darling
these things I say I mean
are just traces of something
I long to feel again
I see our time expand
in the air almost forcibly,
spreading thinner till it dissolves completely.

I wish I could say I wrote this but sadly I did not. Actually, these are the lyrics to Half Asleep, by  School of Seven Bells, a band I just recently got into, thanks to a good friend. This is one my favorite songs of theirs and I've probably listened to it everyday since I've heard it.

Their music is like a mixture between electronic and 80's shoegaze music, using the best of both genres, creating a dreamy feel-good sound. I am addicted to this feeling. There's nothing like absolutely perfect harmonization that puts into you a beautiful haze, almost like a hypnotic trance. Quite lovely, kinda like being on painkillers, except you don't get sick.

as i am

cha·me·leon (kə-mēlˈyən, -mēˈlē-ən)
noun

1. Any of various tropical Old World lizards of the family Chamaeleonidae, characterized by their ability to change color.
2. A changeable or inconstant person.

is what I've considered myself to be over the years. Does that make me fickle? Some might say. I don't think it's a flaw. Many may disagree. I think it broadens my horizons.

I despise consistency, but the aspects that remain constant in my life are constant for a reason.  J'adore. No, I don't speak french. Sometimes I wish I did. Not often enough to do anything about it.

My obsessions are brief, but the ones that count stick around. That's what I've convinced myself to think at least.

This is my first post.

fin

crawlers & riders

They pushed the silver and white strands away
to hang their feet down low.
Swinging them back and forth
as the sun set behind them.
A cherished moment
ruined by an inevitable end.
The crawlers climbed their silver ropes to hunt
all at once, like clockwork.
The sun was set and they rode off with red lights
blinking behind their behinds.
Their stomachs warm and happy, their minds free
and at ease.
Only for a moment..