This pattern is repeating again and again and- you knew this was coming. There is masochism in old love songs. How could you veil this truth? Your truth, the truth you denied over and over to quell the ache. Your eyes are as blind, as vacant as they’ve always been; dark surfaces, refracting and reflecting light. You knew. Smiled and painted a rose colored canvas in your head until crisp, cold air flooded the passageways of the heart. The sanguine oranges, the rose colored strokes were white-washed away; a blanched canvas with its dying rogue hues, silently gilding off the contours of the frame. Maybe the brisk air was all it took to see the bleeding canvas before you. Wake up, smell the coffee again. It’s strong, pungent—maybe a little too acrid. Black coffee and un-filtered cigarettes. Truth. You’re exhaustible; simply a commodity to soothe the emptiness. It’s not you, just what you represent. What you can offer.

Never was you.

Go out on a limb.

I met a German speaking woman today in the bohemian coffeehouse, and we had an entire conversation in German, give or take a few phrases. Ironically enough, she was from Hamburg! My German was slanderously shoddy because of its impromptu nature, and I didn’t originally address her in the formal ‘Sie’ tense (which is technically not polite when meeting an adult, but I am so used to using Du!) Despite plenty of grammatical error on my part, finally speaking with a native after six months, was invigorating! She was very accomidating and overlooked the mistake in tense. Scraping together roughly four years of classroom German and being able to form coherent sentences; I can’t explain it! It was the highlight of my day=) Also on an odd note, apparently many German-speaking people go there; absolutely fantastic! Great coffee, or tea, or CHAI TEA, and stimulating conversation. Another amazing day, to add to an already amazing week=) Picking up FOUR rolls of film tomorrow, finishing up the Imprint; Thundercats are go!
Ich vermisse es, soviel… Ich vermisse mein Heim fort von Heim, Hamburg! Ich duerfte eine Rückkehr machen=)

“Yeah hey,there’s some cookies and milk over there in the corner.”-Nate

Amazing how such a small, fragment of generocity can change the course of an entire day. Oh, and maybe the world isn't chock-full of narcissists after all. It’s an enlightening fact. Though it may not be as glamorous, it may be full of rocks, and it may be rather uneven, this road seems best. Traverse wisely. In all honesty, Today was a fantastic day. Cheers.

Things I love and hate about Sunday October 19:
The 59 Sound, Brueggers, Tom Gabel, Charcoal, The Dead, German, Homework Homework Homework, The smell of wood-burning stoves, Head-colds, Pomegranate cravings, Acoustic AM!, Looming college applications, Cold feet, Folk Punk, Oversized comforters, Flares, Midnight Mile, Uncertainty. Uncertainty?

[Going along with my craving for pomegranates, I kind of liked this.]

Alles Getrennte findet sich wieder

Friedrich Hölderlin

Ah... Art Class, Turkish apple tea, Mike & Ikes, and side street roaming, averting the inevitable return to normalcy at home, makes losing Wednesdays a little more bearable. Despite setbacks, I finally feel in place, so to speak; I’ve got a sense of direction now. I'm happy=)

WEEKEND PART TWO: I WANT TO LEAVE...

On another note, saw Against Me! on Sunday. The first opener was God-awful, Ted leo was decent but it seemed to carry on for too long; mainly because I was anxious to see AM! play. At first I was kind of aprehensive, and I really diddnt want to hear 'Ocean,' or 'Problems.' And the result? COMPLETE SHOCK. I didn’t expect half of reinventing Axl Rose to be included on the set-list, ‘THOSE ANARCHO PUNKS’ WAS AMAZING (my favorite AM! song of all time,) nor did I expect the handful of other songs that surfaced: Sink Florida Sink, Cliché Guevara, DISCO (HUGE surprise there.) Close to the median of the entire place, almost touching the ‘tiger-barriers,’ so to speak—it was beyond fantastic. AND THEY NEVER PLAYED OCEAN.

I am in love with that band, completely besotted.

...AND GO TO COLLEGE ALREADY

"Would you do what it takes to move this hollow life along?
I'd like to think I would, you know I'd like to think I would
but I can guarantee that what you see is not reality
and every time she makes a point, I make a counterpoint
She said it's easy but in the end you'll have no choice
and you know that's only just the way it goes
You said it right man, That is just the way it goes

And the days, and the days they seem like forever"

New York, New York =). Camped out at my uncle’s house in Mt. Vernon for a night, got four hours of sleep, then shipped off to the city.

I am infatuated… NYU is everything I would ever want in a school: the amazing photo program, the organized curriculum and living situation, THE CITY. I want to be at arm’s length with all of the action, the excitement, Sturbridge village and Soho, the decrepit grafitti’ed businesses from block to block—everything, absolutely everything. All of New York, Manhattan. There was a constant flood of skateboarders dodging taxi cabs in the streets, aspiring artists and exhibiting artists, musicians toting instrument cases and playing for the sidewalk-Starbucks coffee crowd. I saw more men sporting buffalo plaid then I have ever seen elsewhere—it’s a quirk. Oh, did I mention the 25% acceptance rate and the grueling portfolio review for the Tisch School of the Arts?

Did I mention that I saw Mike Meyers walking down Broadway?

Oh well, its okay to dream, right?

But no, really, I actually did see Mike Meyers… And no, I’m not going to become a Yankees fan; I know my roots (though I have never really been a huge sports fan altogether, minus my love for the Packers.) Regardless, the area is spectacular. I love the aura of a big city. I snapped three rolls, around 100 shots, of film during my stay. Which was spanned over, oh I don’t know, the course of the afternoon? If I want to pursue photography, then I’ve pinpointed the right location. I’m so impatient. Three rolls of film to develop, and at least two days at Hunts.

"Things got bad and things got worse. Half like blessing, half like curse. It's these blessings so hard to see sometimes. Gotta little clearer about dusk last night

It's a red sky night and I'm doing alright. It's a red sky night and I'm doing just fine"

"And honestly we were armed with our best intentions. Maybe those intentions alone are just enough to get us anywhere but here."

Against Me! tonight, New York was this weekend, I'll eventually write about it, its a matter of having enough time at the moment. Just as soon as i can get my three rolls of film developed. So excited. Chuck Palahniuk's Diary, i'm finding, is a really interesting book. Oh, and we saw Mike Meyers walking around NYC. Thought that was, well, pretty out of the ordinary!

Miles Davis & The Cool

American Cancer Society Walk For Breast Cancer, 10/05/08

This is the second year that we've taken part in the walk for Breast Cancer. The event itself is extremely evocative, for my family, and for all others afflicted. I talked with a woman today, who had been fighting the disease for seven years. She had a mastectomy, radiation, and several surgeries to combat the spread and growth of the cancer; in short, she was a trooper. She even added that before mastectomy, her husband was in complete support of the operation; eluding that he was in love with her as a whole, and not with a simple pound of flesh; prompting her to feel more comfortable and open to treatment. Unconditional love, the epitome of unconditional love. He loved her for every incorporeal element she possessed; her persona as a whole. He loved her enough to support her struggle to live, to give up that trivial section of the body. If all, it’s a symbol of how meaningless physical properties are in love. Love should be within parameters of the mind, not contours of the body.

During the walk today, like last year, I felt a certain lack of composure. Here my mother was, adorned in pink, garlanded with a sash, filled with exuberance. How selfless she was—always has been. To me, she is exemplary—a strong willed artist at heart, who has taken on and conquered a potentially life threatening disease. How can that be viewed in any other light, other than extraordinary? And there I was, standing there, brinking. It was graceless to show emotion, so I held my ground and continued. But oh, the strength... These garnered women around me had suffered so much, most of which were still struggling with their cancer. A five mile walk can conjure many thoughts—what if our situation was different.

So we came home. As I was putting together prints for U Hartford, panicking about the lack of charcoal drawings I had, she descends the stairs with a monstrous, plastic trash-bag full of poster sized drawings tucked under her arm. She showed me a few examples of her work to help me get a better idea of what a reviewer would expect, but the weight of the portfolio review subsided in my mind. Her drawings—they were stunning. Pastels and mostly charcoal drawings, all completely—I can’t find the words—I was awestruck.

To many, she is Mary; a wife and a mother of two. But she is so much more...
She is an artist, a survivor, a part time nurse and full time mother—an inspiration.

Survival is the only option

Spilling over into the crevasses between expectancy and personal limit. Who do you want me to be today? Oh, I’ll secede; follow ridiculous banter and reduce myself to a infinitesimal state until I run out of breath with a raging mind and a pounding aching heart that might explode if and when it eventually it all comes crashing down and—STOP. Where does it end. When do I finally reclaim my vitality and unshackle this possession. When do I finally realize that I need to cut these ropes to prevent myself from capsizing and sink, sink, sinking—sunk. I’ve given up on satisfying everyone. I’m not a perpetual facet, nor am I a therapist. I won’t reduce myself to that level, or yield for that matter. Nor will I accept the lack of ethics that have been thrown at me, like a garbage truck making its daily trip to the dump. I’m tired of all the harassment, the exploitation and manipulation. I am a separate cell, dividing and multiplying at my own pace. To endure, I renounce your disease, this malady—these pathogenic, infectious agents. Stay out of my fucking drinking water.

"And i spent time 'neath the tressels, with the punks and the dimestore saints. Kept faith and a switchblade tucked beneath my coat. And i ran with dirty angels, slept out in the rain. We were scared and tired and barely 17. And my first sin, was the fear that made me old. And i walked down by the shipyards, near the place where i was born, saying "ah maria, if you woulda known me when...". But she just smiles by the light on the navesink banks, saying "listen baby i know you now". And she steps into the river. And i just stand by the moon, thinking 'bout a ghost i hear at night. And she says your first sin, was a lie you told yourself."

Submission is not an option

The Vulcan rots with liquor shots
Now he falls out in the room

Verloren

This is the first break I’ve had since 7am this morning. AH, RELIEF. I’ve been working all day, through lunch, through my usual hour break before work, up until now, roughly eleven at night. Interjection: Tom Gabel’s new solo project is really absorbing me at present.

This helter-skelter is exhausting… Not only is my life in discord, struggling in this balancing-act of pre-collegiate stress, but the lack of control over my own affairs is starting to take its toll. It’s simply nonsensical. I crave a good book—a book that isn’t presented on some skewed AP English reading list, or some genre of supplemental college reading. I want to finally crack open one of Chuck Palahniuk’s many novels, not because I quote ‘liked fight club,’ but simply because I absolutely love his quotations. And I’d like to finish Sense and Sensibility as opposed to the characteristic Pride and Prejudice, staring me blankly in the face as just another AP requirement. I’d like to reread Love is a Mix Tape; a simple, ‘au naturel’ read. Maybe one day I’ll be on a whim and want to read something of a different color, like A Thousand Splendid Suns (it was recommended to me the week before school began), or Chuck Klosterman’s Killing Yourself To Live, an allegedly interesting read.

Four Prospects and no time, no time, no time.