I hate this idea that something has to be warranted in order for it to happen.

You have to be sick to drink chicken soup

There has to be music to sing

There has to be time to love

There has to be an occasion to look amazing...

i mean its just....if you want to wear a tutu to work, you should, if you have killer heels and you need an occasion, then make an occasion

As long as you do it like you mean it, wear it like you mean it, people will believe you.

If you wanna wear a bowtie, then wear it well, because you like bowties.

If you want something, then say it. do it. That is my new philosophy.

I have never needed an occasion.

sit tight, dont want to miss the show

I hang on, dont want to miss my prime

cuase time will fly, upon my babys back

time will fly, upon my babys back

stay a while, my baby begs me so

dont you go, by baby begs me so

but tide will dry, upon my babys back

i get weak

i get weary 

i miss sleep

i get moody

im in thoughts

i write songs

im in love

 i walk on

meh. today i feel very melancholy. 

Perhaps it is becauase of constant confliction, perhaps it is in revolt to this beautiful day.

I dont really know.

Either way, the wind conjures it, and i forgot how much i love walking around campus at night alone.

I think i will make midnight walks a new habit.

Alot of things are kind of weighing me down right now, and for no good reason really, just out of the blue.

I could bite my lip and not let it get me down.

but id rather not, i think ill just let it have me right now, it feels ok to be sad i guess.

I cant make things happen.

Its frustraiting.

and i feel behind.

meh.

thats all i can really conjure.

meh.

pitchers!

sean and adria being the twighlight poster a beautiful deceased bird i found today gabe keeping me company my painting that got rejected me and kelso hunters magnificent experiment the foggy trees at cg my new painting that will hopefully get hung some rocks i thought were lovely a girl and her bowtie a girl and her sun tea a boy and his fire stick. because the everyday slips away fast.

I'm about to go for a run. But alot of things can happen on a run, and i have alot of things to say so i feel i should say them should they go horrendously unrecorded due to a sudden and untimely demise. You could get bitten by a rabid dog, shot by a gang member, kidnapped, raped, hit by a car, sudden torrential rain and flash flood, dust storm, heart attack due to hypertension, tree falls, squirrels, raccoons, horny toads, west nile carrying mosquitoes, broken ankles, crotchety neighbors, questionable wacoans...

basically its just a miracle i'm alive :)

anyways, what i would like to record, for no reason at all is that I just realized that you were the first picture that i ever shot and developed. And I think thats neat. 

Also, I would like to note, that i can feel the impending heartbreak that is the end of this year. I will suddenly feel very alone, very lost, and very without a home.

Also i would like to note that home is something i have taken for granted for a long time.

I'm not sure i have one this summer, which is upsetting.

I'm not sure whats going to happen.

I'm very, very

very

very

very

very

scared.

And now i'm going for a run, but know this in case the squirrels succeed in my demise:

I wish for everyone that in their life time 

they fall in love as deeply and as purely as i have been in love

they get hurt as deeply and as purely as i have been hurt

they explore as unashamedly and spontaneously as i have 

and that at some point or another they have a home.

I also think that everyone in their lifetime should experience a mid fall day in atlanta, and finger painting session.

and....

a physical activity that is so demanding that you almost vomit, but finish the game anyways.

body throws and and curtains closed 

i swear there is more of me.

Late night hours, coffee, few showers

I swear there is more to me.

Beyond what i can possibly be.

Beyond what small talk can hold.

This wheel is very hard to turn,

don't discard it yet.

I swear there is more to me.

I wake up the same morning,

every day,

the same way,

with a similar sway.

But theres more of me.

I threw a shoe into the mechanism

a fumbling, floating mess.

But there is more of me.

I cannot prove.

I will confess.

there is more of me.

a marvelous haunting i cannot shake.

a small endeavor,

a gasp,

a break.

How did I get here?

what was my mistake?

more.

When pressed it is so hard to be natural.

When provoked it is hard to be true.

But I am not what I seem to be all of the times that i do,

Believe me.

There is more.

she comes apart in the avalanche

fades out like a dance

crawls back into bed

when its over

over 

over.

I cant remember the last time that i was yours.

I taught you how to feel why do you feel numb.

I watch the window and listen for the sound of cars.

I wish i could explain the way my heart feels. when i hear this song, its wrenched. So painful and so wonderful at the same time.

lots of things to do today...

run

coffee

restore photo

write 6 page paper, yuck.

saturday: houston?

sunday: itchy..you know, play

somewhere in this,  i have to print ten images for critique.

im gonna try not to think about all this stuff at once.

also i still realllyy need a roomie for the summer.

sometimes when i scroll through my itunes library, my hearts a'burnin.

ugh, i take it back

my hearts a'melting.

today, so not good.

I hate that there are types of people. Its very misleading.

Also, im rather discouraged today.

and conflicted.

also im pretty sure i ate a rotten egg about 72 hours ago, which i am still feeling the effects of.

tomorrow, hopefully will be better.

I am feeling very unsure of myself as of late, which is unusual. I mean i suppose i second guess myself just as much as the next person, but today for some reason it hit me.

It got me thinking that all the events and misfortunes of this year have all been bent on a personality flaw, and well, that really hurts to think about.

I wonder if it isnt that i was with the same person for so long. really, who knows. But either way, i cant shake teh feeling that im sabotaging myself.

random fact of the day...

the word sabotage come from the french word sabot, which can mean shoe. During the industrial revolution, a lot of french workers were being replaced by machines and a sort of paranoia insued....

Some workers would throw a shoe into the gears to break the machines.

Thus, sabotage.

wordsmith through and through.

I think tomorrow i will get coffee, and while i get coffee, i will use this time to evaluate who I am, and who I want to be. What i know about myself and what i dont. What i have lost because of my own actions and insecurities, and what i have gained. A master pros and cons list if you will, and most definately, life goals.

tomorrow is a day of lists.

weeeeee

my heart is a'bursting!!! im concreting my june scheduele....eight to 11 french class, independent study painting with julia hitchcock the most brilliant woman in the world, and then figure modeling for 3 hours every day and making bank! best june ever!

now if only i could find an effing roomate.

after june...we'll see! :)

its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain

its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain rain rain rain rain rain rain

its gonna rain.

its gonna 

rain

its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain its gonna rain rain rain rain rain.

rain.

after all.

you know its funny.

lately ive been wanting to give a huge finger to the photo lab..its this show, its driving me nuts.

Im content to spend all day running or searching for sun, or making a chandelier or making you a ridiculous video. Or coffee-ing with you, or random facting with you.

:)

sometimes people say things, and you could look up at them, but eye contact is somewhat painful, and i sometimes wonder what it would be like to look right back and never stop looking. Its a nice thought.

also, you're never too fat to lay in the sun.

And its never too late to do..

well anything i guess.

the world is ripe with possibilities.

spring.

i cant wait till spring.

i cant wait till summer.

i cant wait till fall again.

the winter i could probably do without.

Happiness is..

a downbeat.

specifically in the kings of leon songs.

gah.

better than sex.

If i could harness the way i feel when they play, yeeesh.

Happiness is...

a desert

Happiness is...

a grand prismatic spring

a mushroom and onion omlette

a collaboration

a pressed flower

a text message

red lipstick

new shapes

new things

old things

young things

pretty things

petty things

funny things

sunny things.

and most importantly my mauve suede shoes. 

bah.

pitter patter...that was my heart

Its terrible to love anything seasonal.

.

not only can the road handle it,

so can i.

i really dont understand what it is about me that people find repelling. I feel very undercut. And lonely.

I wish i were on a tropical island somewhere.

Id go the whole wide world, just to find it, swear.

I think i will go see a movie tonight.

For some reason going on outings where usually there are other people involved are very theraputic.

I make a mean cup of hot cocoa.

A dance a pretty good jig.

I used to resent being a woman,

now i embrace it, now im staggeringly proud of it.

I wanna talk about it.

I wanna valentine.

Im going to start re reading dracula becuase i once picked him over frankenstein..or something like that.

I have a secret desire to be photographed, because i always do it.

I need to write my french stream of consciousness essay...

without accents or proper grammar

im probably gonna do it here.

As soon as i finish this cup of cocoa.

ick, perpetual onion breath, i really need to cut down on the onion haha.

anyways.i have the stream of consciousness thing down, now if only i could do it in french.lets seeee...

hmm stream of consciousness..

stream...

stream.

streamminnggg...

A rhyme makes me feel resolved, like red lipstick, like hot metal slides, like cutting into earth, like killing fruit flies.

Love she love me love we love they. Fiction is fact its the fact of the day.

You have to love something whether night or day.

Curse these breasts!

Curse these lips!

Curse these eyes!

Curse these hips!

quand j'etais un petit fille...

ugh why cant i get started, maybe later

ok i guess ill just translate this later...

When i was a little girl, 

a little peice of my heart went missing.

I painted myself into oblivion.

Where i was allowed to desire.

where i experienced smallness,

where my breasts became white flags.

they were beautiful.

there was a small miracle between my thighs.

I was cleaning them, I was stuck in the bathtub

and the hair from the drain over took me.

Slowly.

First my toes and then my skin.

Back up to its root from where it originated.

Each strand seeking out its assigned follicle.

The forceful pilgrimage home.

Strangling me, taunting me

"you dont have a lover"

it said

"you will be alone"

it said

"I will over come you!"

Mighty, it was.

It wove me into a cocoon, and deposited me where lovers knew not. It reversed me in a way so cruel. It sewed me in a manner so quick and so careful. Stop motion.

With piano.

With fervor, forever.

It quilted me. stitched me. wove me slightly. Put me on a loom and wound me very tightly. Looked me in the eyes and spun me quite rightly. 

But this is not the end of me. I could not let it be. For the heart could not bear it, It goes on buzzing  long after all logic is lifting, After all gold is guilded. makes perfect product while the universe is regifting. In some small place it never gives up, it has not reason within it. To strain is to sup.

I trembled in a twine so lowly i struggled to feel cold. Here is the troubador. He called to me by name. He told me where to begin. He did not lift me but put me in this spot. He took all i had carried, sexed what he begot. He came to me slowly in my ear.

Let the breath tell me what to hear.

Let the music stroke and fondle all things cochlear.

Ici. Ici. Ici. haaaaaaaaaaa he's here.

Its true it never happens as one had hoped, as one had mapped.

Pinks and blues in a lovers grid spat. Legends and keys not at all as they say.

Liars they are!

Theives they are!

but this is they.

How they have always been. Beginning to regift, beginning to respin.

Woman after woman, coyly but wanton.

Ici.Ici.Ici. haaaaaaaa

But I am not angry.

But whats to release when you have nothing left?

Three words still and static in my breast.

Ici. Ici. Ici. 

I wish you were here, I wish you were mine, so old and so new, at the same time.

youre just a kid

i love you because youre just a kid.

You look so young, you look so innocent.

But you've aged.

So new and so old at the same time.

I think I was there for those trying times.

At least id like to think i was.

I feel i could protect you and nurse you.

Be humbled by you and stretched by you.

Be sure of how wise you are.

And yet you still look so new.

so new.

she walks too

Today went for a walk, not a run, a walk.

Not only this, but a slow, invasive, meandering, consuming, walk.

I saw two dachsunds a pomerainian, and a mutt that looked like a sheep dog.

Some peices of blocked styrofoam underneath black plastic and tied, they were massive, monolithic really, in the sun they reminded me of mecca. I wanted to circle them in prayer, and imagine something beautiful and sacred was in it. Maybe the corpse of a june bug, or dried hydrangeas, Your skin, or your eyes, or your touch. I could think on these things for hours.

And the pavement looked like you, course, unrefined, everlasting, illuminated.

And the wind blew past me, and through me, like a great wave, and almost enveloped me, but devoured me it did not.

And when it grazed past my cheek, I imagined it was you. In some strange suspended reality where it would be okay.

Then we found a trampoline, and we used it, and each time my stomach flipped reaching the heighth of each bound and recoiled only to be brought up again so high, I knew it like i knew you, In some small world where we can be.

And when i returned home and brushed the tangles from my curls and slid my fingers from root to tip, I imagined it was you again, In some strange place where you can touch me.

so, i think i might move to LA. the more i think about it, the more plausible it seems, the more likely it seems, and the more right. I told my dad, he seemed to think it was a good idea, I mean, even if nothing comes of it, at least i tried. Its just that i cant seem to think of anything else but film lately, its consuming me. Short story here, short story there, this would make great exit music, this is a sex scene song, a woman holds a child, a man gives in. Things like that, and all these beautiful tapestries of color and composition keep coming to me in the form of a rectangle, and all i need to do is get them moving. All i need to do is get me moving.

Im so afraid, but also pushed, by something unnamed, i cant put my finger on it.

I have no idea how this all will pan out, but for some reason i just feel like this is a good idea.

On the other hand, i wouldnt mind working on a boat in bora bora for a year or two. 

Whenever, whatever.

Its now or never i think.

nervous,

jcole