is it better to be raised in normalcy or in a wacked out environment hoping for normalcy. which allows you to escape sooner?

bad romance

having bleached hair is like having a boyfriend that punches you in the face every two weeks

why are we all chasing the aloof, the off limits and the mysterious? when faced with the option of affection and the ability for human connection, we reject it. why does it feel so much better when we know it wont work out? when we know its not real and its not right?

why can't we keep the ones we know love us, without being consumed by the unknown?

my new (probably) underage crush

and an older one.

since i spent the time to compose this

marilyn manson spends a whole book describing his offbeat lifestyle, his journey from awkward child to pseudo rockstar complete with drug binges, strange sexual acts and a dwindling sense of morality. but rather than being a self indulgent tale, it really fucking hits home with me. i left you a message detailing this, but want to send you some quotes.

in a strange way i identify with him, coming from a home where weird is not always good, escaping to a new place that allows the weirdness to shine, and then grappling with it all trying to define yourself. though he was already highly defined in his own mind. he examined himself and the world and needed to talk about it just like i constantly need to talk about things to validate my ideas. and he straight up said that at one point " i woke up at seven o clock this morning and i was trying to find someone to express my ideas to but i couldnt. i was walking around like a fucking madman"

he also talks about satanism, a concept that sounds frightening to me, but he writes "what nearly everyone in my life had misunderstood about satanism is that it is not about ritual sacrifices, digging up graves and worshipping the devil. the devil doesnt exist. satanism is about worshipping yourself, because you are responsible for your own good and evil. christianity's war against the devil has always been a fight against man's most natural instincts - for sex, for violence, for self gratification - and a denial of man's membership in the animal kingdom. the idea of heaven is just christianity's way of creating a hell on earth."

not that im going to start believing in satanism, but that put it so simply. its not a crime to indulge our own animal instincts, and shouldn't feel bad about doing what we need to do to feel happy.

he finishes the book with a parallel between his personal struggle to finish an album that just wasn't getting done, due to fucked up relationships with his band mates, drugs, and misunderstandings among the sea of self destruction. he says "when i first conceived of Antichrist Superstar (his album) I set out to create an apocalypse. But I didnt realize it was going to be a personal one. as a child I had been a weakling, a worm, a follower, a small shadow trying to find a place in an infinite world of light. in the end, in order to find that place, I had to sacrifice my humanity - if you could even call such an insecure, guilt-ridden existence humanity. i had to shed my skin, purge my emotions and experience every extreme: i had to keep throwing myself onto the swords until I didnt feel a thing."


and a final quote. in the vein of one controlling his own destiny he wrote " i believe in dreams, i believe that every night on the planet everything that is, was and can be is dreamt. i believe that what happens in dreams is no different and no less important than what happens int he waking world. i believe that dreams are the closest equivalent presentday mankind has to time travel. i believe you can visit your past, present and future in dreams. i believe i've dreamt half of my life that hasn't happened yet. i dont believe in chance, accidents, or coincidences. i believe in the Delusional Self, which is to say that I believe tha thte things I talk and think about change the world around me and result in events that appear to be coincidental. "

i dont know. this book has debilitated me.

excuse me just a second

i dont want no retrospective

highlights from my iphone: 2009

feeling grown up

the motto

lost my breath

the fires

my wall

collections

i miss this hair and parts of him

gettin in the zone

my giant chin at the standard in tom binns, naturally.

liquid only diet at canters

snow hit dallas!

sadly way too uncomfortable

justin billy et famille

i had bangs for a bit

look at the art not your berry!

i fell twice, straight to the ground.

dinner party, check.

my favorite shape of glass

adventures in big shot polaroids

the sky looked fake.

virgin screenprinter

silver and ice

my favorite downtown activity

the photobooths

SHOWstudio's film featuring stills of 48 top models.



http://www.showstudio.com/projects/48girls/movie/

just like i imagined

from http://www.terrysdiary.com/

the feather

this is life, again.

tonight was amazing, perhaps that was supposed to foreshadow a downfall. and maybe i shouldn't call it a downfall. sometimes the trivial issues I have, the things I "can't do", like hugging and touching and getting close to someone wash away when you realize that its all you really have to offer anyone in the long run. Some are better at giving advice, or at inspiring you, but in the end its the real that counts.

sometimes it feels like its too much to handle and then you hear about someone's hurt and someone's loss and someone who needs a touch more than you need it or maybe just a little bit more than you think you need it. the hugs , and the fear of touching just, washes away because you need a fucking tear to fall from your eye. And sometimes it just needs to be you who does it, and you have to pretend that you would do it without the booze and without the coke. You just have to do it. And you have to petend that you know what that person is feeling but you don't know at all. But you want to think that you know or that you can relate to even a quarter of what that person is feeling. And then you hug them, and you feel that real person and their real tears and then it becomes okay, and I want to be okay with that NOT when I'm drunk, I want to be more in touch on a regular basis.

I want to cut past the bullshit of my friendships because they're pretty fucking rad, and why do I talk about them like they're shit when they're all I fucking have and I'm so fucking lucky to have them.

in love with and inspired by these amazing jewels.
from colette [by baccarat]!

I wish I had known in that first minute we met

the first time in ages I've felt like writing in my journal, I was thinking about new years eve 2009 and how I was different. Physically more empty and mentally more depressed. For one I was sans tattoo but avec a drawing on my wrist! Perhaps that will become a reality this year?

My bed has lit up but now again feels lonely. But I feel a new respect for "me" coming into the picture. The sort of " I want to do good for myself" while I'm on this earth. For some reason I used to think i wouldn't make it that long. Perhaps that's why I yearn for deep relationships but don't always see the worth in bothering to invest in them in the present. I sometimes forget that people have feelings and occasionally I do too and that I have the power to effect others. It might be a matter of recognizing when it's meant to be and when it is selfishly serving someone else's needs. Resolution '10? Who knows, it doesn't always take a new year to change, for I feel the change beginning already.

Until next year...

Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.

The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.

It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.

FRANK O'HARA

hallelujah

It is painful to visit a relative you love, but hardly know except through ancient stories and the few experiences you've had over the 24 years together. The Christmases and Thanksgivings, and summer vacations that you spend together fail to clarify their personalities. But when you see them hurting its hard to not feel for them as you would your best friend. Harder even when you realize their sadness is out of pure loneliness; for who wants to be alive after the love of their life has left this world? The one they spent 50+ years with without a wince, with trials and tribulations that I will never hear about but that clearly didn't matter enough because they stuck it out.

What overwhelms me more that the solid loneliness that I want to take away from her is the familiar (and yes, selfish) commiseration with the feeling of love-despite-it-all. I never thought i'd even experience love, much less believe in it, but what gets me is the power of it all. She spent more than ten years witnessing him as a different person, an anxiety-ridden, clueless, forgetful man who lived in the body of her long-time love.

And to this day, she misses him. She knows him not as that man, but as the man she married half a century ago. She misses the man she married, the man she had 2 girls with, and the man who retired to allow them to travel the world. That is what strikes me as the most beautiful kind of love.

but i can't tell her that. i don't know how to tell her i admire her, and that i find her to be incredibly strong. I don't know how to be anything but a five year old around her because she didn't change with me since. I can't connect and I can't console, and I can't figure out why.

i yearn for days when jeff buckley makes it all better, while making it all worse as i discuss my loves made and lost with my love child.