I will not(for as long as possible) give advice out, that I, myself, cannot follow.

you've gotta live free, to stay free.

please stop raining~
i'll have to thank the sun for shining again, but thats okay.
because i mean, i'm thankful for everything.

i really do like reading what people have to say, and what their going through.
i also not so secretly love knowing what people have to say even when i have never had the chance to meet them, and may never even. just you know,.. to feel what they feel or be amazed because someone can feel what i do without ever knowing. ya know?


"You and I have a special talent," Claire says to Drew. "And I saw it immediately. We're the substitute people. I've been the substitute person my whole life. I'm not an Ellen [a co-worker Drew was into]. I never wanted to be an Ellen. And I'm not a Cindy either…I like being alone too much. I mean, I'm with a guy who is married to his academic career. I rarely see him and I'm the substitute person there. I like it that way. It's a lot less pressure."

Nobody wants to be a substitute person. We just claim that the position is acceptable because we're afraid that nobody will ever consider us an original. But along with way, most will consider us substitute people and that's not a knock against them or us. They have an original in mind and for whatever reason—justified or not, we don't live up to it.

The problem comes when we embrace substitute person status, like Claire did, because embracing it means that we'll never get to see wonder in the other person's eyes as we tell him or her about our theories, our beliefs, our hopes, and our dreams. It means we'll never get that all-knowing, all-understanding hand-squeeze, or look from the person we love that says, "I know exactly what you are thinking or feeling and I want you to know that it means just as much to me as it does to you."

i should have been british,
it'd work better as i stammer through my words.
i mean, it sounds kind.. of calming and nice,
not like i'm eating my tongue you know?

i won't sleep tonight, i like this i can do this.
i can. i wish i had a bike, to kind of ride into clouds with,
a bike thats specifically made for such a thing.

or you know a dream machine, before its made illegal.
minus the price. or just hang birds from the paper tissue and water color
i got today, i dont know what to do.
but for one, there must be constant music to fill the silence,
thats when the kittens don't cry too.

*the giant bicycle.
thomas rosenthal
~~

these things that happen in dreams,
they just dont seem to have a face, they just have a sort of.. presence.

i don't believe anyone else is real right now,
i am in an orange box, and no one exists, because no ones
really paying attention.

a lot of things are sort of dreams, i mean you know,
fading into nothingness, you barely remember that they ever happened,
yet you feel it touch the edges of all of you, for an entire day, anything other than a dream
is much longer than a day, but it pulls at you. you know? like your a thousand contraptions put together, designed with specific functions as you fall apart. its like a system shutdown, the waRNing ticks, and alarms go off within you, and you get anxious and scared in those parts of movies with the suspense, when you KNOW that the plot will end perfectly, its the same thing, you know you wont die, but you want the tick to reach 0, just so you don't have to feel, but then you realize how great feeling is, like i do now, and everythings running smoothly just for this night, and like a quote said, you think when you experience something oh my god, i am going to die, but then you LAUGH because... how many times have you felt that way?

its what makes you real, this stupid balance.

i watched closer today, that and the virgin suicides.
both beautiful movies, and sophia coppola leaving me with the real thing..
i wanted something to make me cry, not about you. not about what's happened.

i don't need to hurt myself for something that isn't my fault. not saying it won't hurt,
but enough of that. i don't want to think it or hear it, and i doubt you do. i'm not here to be pitied or to hurt you. you'll hurt on your own.

perfection is more of a fairytale than my own offbeat realities. i like things because they aren't perfect, and because they aren't consistent.

so much for not putting up significant songs on my myspace, but you would obviously now know.
god im dying not to pick up the phone, but since you haven't i'll take it as a sign.

i need to stop.

• crinkle paper bodies of nature, and paint.
  

thank god someones getting out of this,
this horrible chain of events, of sour love, and sour things,
and sour patch kids.

what is love?

your allowed to like something just because it is,
not because it has some style about it, or the compositions correct,
or even if its not, and its horribly unprofessional and fucked.

great photojournalism angle there, dick.

enough of that anyways, something smells like dog.
the weathers great today, i kind of layed on the pavement.
i'm all sorts of ill today though.

i kind of liked how gentle your hand looks on her breast,
and how calm you looked as the wind blew you away, and back dropped the ocean around you.

i have a terrible feeling about today,
ill let you know if im right.

don't ask me what anything means
too ill

RAH IM THE DINOSaUR OF FUCKING THINGS UP.
RAAAAAAAAAH

today is for me.

I wish i could stop being so irritable and impulsive just for a second.