Post Shower.

I just took a shower. I just took the longest shower of my life. That was the best goddamn shower I've ever taken. Hot water ran down the top of my head like an egg cracks, easy and slow. I swear in sank through my skull and ran straight down through my neck and spine and made It's way to my knee caps where it flooded them and nearly knocked me over from the force, but stood me up tall with a jerk instead. When it reached my feet in soaked through the arches and down the drain where it had always intended to be and I knew it.

Sometimes I cant help but need to close my eyes and breathe deeply. I fear that If I don't, I will be too overwhelmed by all the life around me and just bottle up and explode! There is nothing I want more than life, there is nothing I do better.

The conflict is the meaty part of life. The struggle is the skeleton. Laughter is merely the skin and I'm drowning in it.

I'm so fucking busy, I'm so fucking happy. I love getting my hands dirty, tiring and toiling and complaining and fighting to be alert at times. It's redeeming.

Though I know I will inevitably return to the thoughts that parade around as fear late at night, but also call themselves "research", I don't care, I'm happy in this moment.


I wonder, is all we are to smoke drink fight and fuck? Are we just a mass of merry go rounds spinning at a velocity our brains aren't capable of catching? Should I be satisfied or get satisfied?

I take comfort in that no one else really has a clue either, even if they say they do, even if they write books or coach lives or hold offices, they're lying. We're all lying. you're all a bunch of fuckin liars, everyone one of ya. ps. I love you all, and I cant help it.

It just started raining. I think it will take me a while to get used to the idea of rain not being foreboding or anxious. It never rains in Texas. When it does it makes me think that god is trying to sell me something. Somehow though, In my house, right now, where its freezing and two thirds sleeping, the rain is non threatening. Instead it lulls me, clams me, talks to me even. I'm sitting here cold and achy in my bed, snuggling beneath the cotton that's swallowing me up and I'm thinking about how fragile I am. I'm a slave to my body in fact. To its pain and its hunger and its temperature and its desires, I am at it's mercy. I can't get a damn thing done without being interrupted by something my body needs everyday. You'd think I'd be mad at it, but instead I just coddle it. I feed it and rest it and clothe it and so on. Why, I'm just a big baby.

That's what I am, a baby. And so are you. A baby, scrambling around to find something to justify calling ourselves significant. Unique.

Stop. You already are. I believe you without all the bad press.

Whatever your reasons, I like talking to people who are comfortable enough with themselves to talk about things that they actually care about.

j

I need to write just to write

Do you ever brush your own skin just because no one else will? Do you ever feel like everyone in the room knows something you don't? Does anyone know what I'm talking about? I take a certain amount of comfort in realizing and somewhat hoping that everyone else shares in these particular moments. Times in which you just feel so defeated despite all your heroism, times in which your chest thirsts for the feel of another pressed against it, and times in which your own logic doesn't seem to make sense in its context.

The absolute value of life is that which you can conjure. Passion makes life worth living. Art makes life worth living. Laughter.

The feel of hands on my cheeks makes life worth living, even if they are only my own.

Does the fear of the clamor in the other room reveal anything to me? Does the constant drone of inevitability weigh on me? Am I a product of everything else and nothing unto myself?

not today.

Today I feel so god damned jealous, and I don't even know why. Life can be so utterly frustrating, and it can be so intensely satisfying simultaneously.

Pleasure and pain pleasure and pain...all we are is pleasure and pain...she sang softly to her son.

We are all the worst versions of ourselves, and hopefully most days, we are the best.

Take my money and my family and my friends and my home, my heart my sight my limbs my bones, but please god please leave me my passion.

leave me my passion.

La Dee Da

I feel like I should compile this list, and i dont know where else to do it:

Most influential and moving song lyrics that I have come across in the recent past...as I think of them in no particular order, and not necessarily synonymous with the quality of the song and/or artist(i guess just lyrics that have meant something to me):

"We’re just a million little god’s causin rain storms turnin’ every good thing to rust.I guess we'll just have to adjust."-arcade fire

"its a bittersweet symphony this life" -the verve

"louder than sirens louder than bells sweeter than heaven and hotter than hell"-flo and the machine

"all the roads we have to walk are winding and all the lights that lead us there are blinding"-oasis

"lover, you should have come over."-jeff buckley

"this is how it works youre young until youre not, you love until you dont, you try until you cant, you laugh until you cry, you cry until you laugh and everyone must breathe until theyre dyin breath"-regina

"I cant take my eyes of you, I cant take my mind off you"-damien rice

"I'm never gonna know you now but im gonna love you anyhow"-elliot smith

"we were sixteen maybe less, maybe a little more"-iron and wine

"you plant a rose and if the rose comes up youre thankful to god and if it doesnt you cuss em'...But, oh, what a beautiful thing when you sing...Hear all them bells ringing out in the street, Hammer strikes the metal and it makes me believe"-ryan adams

"It's you heart, its in your art your beauty, even in this world of lies theres purity you got innocence in you eyes, even in this world of lies youre still hopeful very sexy very sexy"-jb but better as mph

"oh my my, oh hell yes, honey put on that party dress"-tp

"Gravity is working against me,And gravity wants to bring me down...Oh twice as much aint twice as good,And can't sustain like a one half could, It's wanting more, That's gonna send me to my knees"-jm

"come pick me up take me out fuck me up and steal my records, screw all my friends behind my back, with a smile on your face and then do it again"-ryan adams

"if heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied, illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs, if theres no one beside you when your soul embarks, then i will follow you into the dark"-death cab for cutie

The entirety of "fake plastic trees" by radiohead, most notably " i cant help but feelin' i could blow through the ceilin'"...and most of that album...all of that album.

what lyrics have stuck with you guys?

Pardon the mess, I'm remodeling.

Is it wrong to want more than this? Wait, not more, different.

I want to construct and be consumed, To build and rebuild, to not be at a loss for words.

I want to lift your grimy fingertips off my skin and have to you look right back at me the same way im looking at you.

I want to be satiated and challenged.

I want to have sex, and not be held accountable.

I want to feel like life is more than a series of wanting and gaining and pining.

I need to feel that ive done my part, but have given to myself in the process.

I want to stay up until five am. I want freedom.

I want to admit when im lonely and not expect some kind of bullshit sympathy, I just want to feel it, and admit it, fully. Im lonely. There.

I think im going to have to find my own way, or make it. I'll make it.

What the fuck is so wrong with being honest anyways? Im so frustrated all the time with what is and isn't acceptable to say, im just so fucking tired of it, i think i could bottle up and explode. I know that its not admirable and i know its seems im a quitter,selfish,unrealistic. What the hell is wrong with me? Is anything wrong with me?

Am i that person who sucks life from others and breathes nothing in return. Have i no output?

Im sure you'll all have something to say about me.
Im sure ive already said plenty of it myself.

Introvert, Extrovert, Lazy, Megalomaniac, Insecure, Overly Secure, Honest, Unapologetic, small, simple, yearning, temperamental, emotional, doomed, a square in a round peg.

But right now im just dark.
Im just a deep green with flecks of olive.
Im some kind of glowing otherwise.

How strange and how beautiful.
How tragic and not.

Sometimes i want nothing to do with life.
Sometimes i want all over me.

Im sure id love to say something else that makes sense, but i dont really care enough right now.

yours,

the impostor.

sincerely,

the scam artist.

love,

baggy jeans, a bra, and everything bitter.

That's what little girls are made of.

j

Hey Stranger.

Hey guys, its been a while.
Sup atlanta, its really been a while.
oh, concept of home, i hardly recognize you.

I haven't wanted to blog in a while because I've been working out how i feel about things, how i feel about here and being away from all of you, and how what i think about money and what i think about advertising and all the shit that im supposed to be behind, for, and cheering at 100 percent all the time. But the truth is that im not really ANYTHING 100 percent of the time. I cant understand why no one seems to be happy at their jobs, why it seems im wasting my body and my time trying to achieve. That kind of thing is just a jagged pill i guess. Its hard to swallow so much thats been thrown at me right now. Why do we make ourselves feel guilty if we dont feel miserable? Its this sort of believe and achieve, succeed and achieve attitude instilled in us that makes us quite frankly feel uncomfortable, lazy, or inadequate, island-like if we do not form to it. It is sometimes to much for me. Sometimes the pain underneath and running through everything in the world is too much for me to handle, i can hardly take a breath thinking of things that happen to my friends on the regular and to others and the god forsaken bogged down mess it all is. The sobering reality that we are slaves to money. The idea that we must sacrifice relevancy for freedom.The fact that everyone is coping with their own insecurities in myriad ways that all bounce back and forth at each other with no rhyme or reason except to make us all miserable. And then sometimes, the right song comes on, or the right beat just moves through you and you blast that radio and scream it down the highway up the whole lane, at the whole highway, at the city, at the whole god damned world. Sometimes the brevity of everything is too much to handle. Sometimes the beauty of it is is just as overwhelming. Its a bittersweet symphony that i can only find relief in through expression. Every single person is looking for the same thing, to be heard, understood, to know that you heard them and understood them.

It feels good to purge my frustrations here but I also accumulate some amount of guilt in the process, like i should feel bad for doing my dirty laundry in public. But i think that's shit. Im not angry all of the time, and im not suffocated all the time. My heart was not made to have an address, but im trying to find the fantastic in having a spot. It is sometimes good to do things you dont want to do. A wise, crusty old woman once told me that the way to discern the difference between quitting and choosing is to ask yourself..."am i wasting my time or is it just hard?"

Im not anything all the time.
Sometimes im a quitter, more often than not i stick it out.
I have days where i feel low and frustrated and i think my life has worn out all its magic, and there are days when i think i could just weep for how lucky i am and how powerful i feel.
Im hungry all day on monday. on tuesday i ate some watermelon and thats it.
Im lazy and productive, brave and chickenshit, refined and abrasive, made-up glittery and homely with messy hair.
Im a woman on a good day and an acting man on a smart one.
Im thankful all the time, but i forget it when im angry.
Im not sorry for not being everything to everyone all the time.
Im not sorry for evading equilibrium.
Im not sorry at all.

As much of a strange sweet that this move(back) seems that it will be, I AM really enjoying my roommates and new neighbors, the prospect of community, and the possibility of friends coming my way. I have had a year to use and guest, and now it is my turn to give and host.

In my quest to get cozy ive acquainted myself with and compiled a list of all of my favorite culinary discoveries in the immediate area, i know i dont technically run a food blog but indulge me...

King of Pops


26 year old beautiful blue eyed something or other (i cant remember his name) quit his desk job to start a popsicle business, King of pops, but not just any popsicle business. This guys sells amazing, handmade, in season, gourmet, occasionally alcoholic popsicles. Flavors include chocolate sea salt, lemon basil, georgia peach, nectarine mojito, arnold palmer,pear honey, banana puddin', watermelon peppercorn and so on... best catch em while ya can, he moves around midtown all day tweeting his whereabouts. 2 50 a pop. My roommate crushes him, i get the feeling I'll be eating a lot of popsicles this year.

Rosebud


This place is fantastic, not a minute walking distance from my house, sells entirely local food tailored to the culinary southerner, and coincidentally my new place of work. Beautifully plated, flawlessly furnished, devastatingly charming. As an added bonus there's a farmers market every Saturday morning on the patio, and live music every Wednesday. Rosebudatlanta.com

Atlanta Cupcake Factory


Guess who makes gluten free batches at request two days in advance? This guyyyyy! Im pretty stoked about this one. Enough said.

Of course really if you ask me, the best restaurant in town in just downstairs. Im in a serious cookathon with myself lately with all this time and a kitchen.





Still not sorry,

-j

Evidence

I went to see a movie recently that really wasn't very good but there was a monologue performed by Julianne Moore that was really truthful about relationships i think. So i scoured the internet to share it with you, here is some evidence that film can be very truthful:

JULES: "Its no secret, your mom and I are in hell right now and the bottom line is marriage is hard. It's really fuckin' hard. It's just two people slogging through the shit, year after year, getting older, changing -- its a fucking marathon, okay? So sometimes, you know, you're together so long you stop seeing the other person, you just see weird projections of your own junk. Instead of talking to each other, you go off the rails, and act grubby, and make stupid choices, which is what I did. And I feel sick about it because I love you guys, and your mom, and that's the truth. And sometimes you hurt the ones you love the most, and I don't know why. You know, if I read more Russian novels... Anyway... I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what I did. I hope you'll forgive me eventually. Thank you."

I cant seem to get the lyrics of Janelle Monae's song "cold war" out of my head, its so painful and yet so comforting at the same time. Its one of those songs that is fantastic because it makes you feel so much all at once. I identify with it so many levels and am also excited by the music. It a bunch of happiness and sadness wound up into a great tune. Also the video is particularly awesome if you get a chance to watch it. Evidence that artists are still kickin'lyrical ass:

So you think I'm alone?
But being alone's the only way to be
When you step outside
You spend life fighting for your sanity

This is a cold war
You better know what you're fighting for
This is a cold war
Do you know what you're fighting for?

If you wanna be free?
Below the ground's the only place to be
Cause in this life
You spend time running from depravity

I'm trying to find my peace
I was made to believe there's something wrong with me
And it hurts my heart
Lord have mercy, ain't it plain to see?

I recently learned to use imovie, well, i recently tinkered around with imovie...this is my first humble attempt to make something that resembles art with it, so go easy on me. Its a compilation of places, people, and things that i have encountered in my life in the past few years that have given me a lot of joy, and made up my life. Most of these videos are taken with my blackberry and are mostly sentimental, or are clips from my video logs from china. My only regret is that i did not video more of it as it were happening. Its a bit of a manifestation of something i have learned in my early adulthood: that nothing really means much unless someone is there to share it with, and that home is the people you love. Evidence that i have lived:

art ethics.

Here’s something I haven’t talked about in a while if only due to distraction. After my yearlong hiatus from all things seriously photographic I’m getting the itch again. I remembering how much I love painting because it is so physical and ancient, and im experiencing a bit of trepidation about this new venture in the world o’ art that begins come October. I know I want to try but I’m not exactly sure how its all really panning out with me. The more I think on it, the more important it seems that I should continue to evaluate the way I feel about digital art and art in general as a means to an end. I just don’t want to find myself two years from now up in a dark room posterising a pill bottle in photoshop and using font to convey things like "betchya cant eat just one"

What I would really love to do is book covers, or magazines. I think this has come up because it has occurred to me that I’m getting in to the business of coercing people, which prompts me to think… is all beauty coercion?

Is all allure inherently trickery? Can we not avoid persuasion at the taste and smell of something exquisite? We think and feel and eat with our eyes primarily, and so, i have to try to navigate the ethics of this new thing that will possibly become my life.

You have to get past a lot of tape before you really start to become prolific and my website is a bunch of old shit by now. Well not shit, but old, at least in terms of what im capable of i think. So i suppose im a little concerned that i will, as i and so many others inevitably do, begin to hate craft out of frustration and burn out. It is here that I assume I will glance back at Colorado and say “if only i had chosen you.” But I guess the grass I always greener.

So if I’m to remain on the up and away from the trickery of modern advertising, I need to ask myself a few questions. What am I doing this for? How does this make the world a better place? Does this help only rich people and coerce only consumers? Or is it some kind of beacon for people who love things to be beautiful. Is it its own art form, or just a perversion of a few? I am now trying to count all of the times in my life that an ad has helped me in some way... cricket cricket.

Well I do have to say that have always appreciated a beautiful cover to a good book, or a fantastic layout in a magazine, or a good deepened cover photo, or a flawless piece of packing, namely bottles, specifically liquor and wine bottles....GASP...they’re so pretty. Okay, so there is some redemption to this I think, it’s just kind of under the radar.

right?

I mean there is something to living in and around and using art. Even just being in Morgan’s parent's respective houses the other day (I wish I had photographed more but I only got the one photo) was like this fantastic...thing? An art museum really...I mean, they ARE just things, but it makes you feel a certain way to live in and through and around art. Its like the reason that people play fantastic music in the backdrop, and the reason...if they’re fuckin’ lucky, have a Rauchembourg or two hanging on the back wall. It just and experience to live with art, its the same way its an experience to live with a person, or with an instrument. Its does something to your cognition and makes life generally more enjoyable if not just different. The more you live with a painting, the more it means to you, you start to attach memories and feelings to it and it evolves overtime as you look at it. Until one day, its just...part of your life. The space you live in is not the evidence of your life, but rather the skeleton that your life fleshes out. It sort of makes me feel like a hermit crab. A stylish hermit crab.

Its hard not having anything that is ever really certain sometimes, there are things that are certain for the era, and when the times are changin’ way too fast and you feel disoriented it can be exhilarating and it can be discombobulating. Its also exhausting constantly debating yourself, I suppose what I would like to give myself the permission of doing is to say that there is nothing wrong with taking a step back from self evaluation and self searching and change and constant upheaval and just stand there for a minute in your own happiness. It sometimes healthy to challenge and to let go of your stagnancy, and it sometimes healthy to stand still in your happiness. Be still and know that i’m content in this current phase, and i don’t wish to be disturbed for the moment. There is some sort of power in saying, “This is true right now.” Its true that I love you right now, and its true that the peach I ate this morning was sweet, and its true that all of the things I currently believe and feel are good and okay for now. And there is not shame in telling the guy next to you who is debating your every feeling and inclination to just shove it. You don’t always have to be something for everyone, and you don’t always have to question everything. Some things are better left untouched, while others thrive when moved. For now, I’m feeling good where I am, and im just gonna take a breath. I sometimes and lately have been afraid of the person im becoming. Perhaps it is here that change is a bit rapid and often for the moment. There’s nothing wrong with taking 5. Everyone needs a break.

Art and design are very ephemeral. It’s very hard to explain why and what art does, I don’t think anybody really knows why they do it, except that they just have to. It somehow salvages life for me in a way that I cant very accurately explain. And for this reason, I believe that art is a type of faith. Something that appears to you that you trust to do what it always has. And although it lets you down, quite often more than not, it keeps living and it keeps coming back. It is also very hard to say what art even is! I think, we identify with art in this way: because we alike art are not sure of what we are but endure in the absence of certainty. Though painful, we keep changing. A whole mess of success and failure that really has no rhyme or reason that can be attached to it, and yet it is this great romance that leads us on in a very Sisyphean way. The great sorrow and the great joy of life, is finding out why the fuck we do anything that we do at all. What is the what? What is the question? What's it to you, and what’s it to me? Maybe this is why we keep calling it up for coffee. It has no basis, no concrete definition, no practical implications as far as survivalists can prove, constantly evolving, does not have a specific or even sometimes reasonable way of being reached, and doesn't even always show up when it says it will. Furthermore, offers no guarantee of giving you anything in return necessarily. Art is a big fuckin’ flake.

I suppose the nirvana of this task is finding the "sweet spot" where you can create with the acceptance that what you toil over may be meaningless, with the iron clad hope that it is not. Maybe its worth it or not, but its definitely rewarding. Inherently accessible to all who posses a pulse, art is the peoples science, it is for everyone and by everyone alive, but sanctioned as the quiet obsession of an elite few.

a site that is so much fun its almost as much of a time suck as facebook:

http://www.sweet-station.com/blog/

the unframed awesome watercolor/crayon drawing in mo's room at her dad's house: