A star in it’s dying burns,
brighter and brighter.
What it leave’s behind has no regard for light, or life.
and in it’s fall it drags whole worlds into darkness.
Another old one
How do i tell you you’re bad for me?
I drink you and you make me sick,
I have so much love for you- already, I am thirsty for you.
How can I lay the burden of yourself on you when you already feel it?
without making you worse for yourself,
and worse for me because you’ll
only hear the bit where I say,
I want to keep drinking, i want to be sick.
This is a narrative over a year old written as a reaction to the death of a close friend.There wasn’t much editing involved.
July 5, 2012
I asked tommy if he was fucking with me at least twice. I rember thinking if I could just turn around and walk back to that tree, there would be
some temperal fold I could grab, and go backwards. I rember feeling like if I never left the park, time would stop, and this wouldnt be happening.
But no matter what I told myself, I rembered, Adam is still dead, even if you never called Tom, even if you never leave this park, adam will still be gone
when someone dies you hear a lot of cliches, or you hear alot about the stages of grief, denial, barganing,anger, depression and acceptance.
Personally I am slowly sliding out of anger headfirst into depression. I am sure acceptance will come. Prehaps when I help his roomate move his things
perhaps a few months from now, when we all get together, and that empty space im expecting, where adam was, will not be empty or awkward, but a comofort.
When Tom called me that day I missed the call, and stepped away from Strawberry fields memorial in Central Park to call him back.
I had never been to Strawberry fields, I was showing around my friends from home, and my Dad, who was going back to Germany for who knows how long,
the next day.
I cant even get myself to belive it now, I am sitting here staring at his “slytherin” sweater, one i insisted on “borrowing.” I had plans to see him as soon
as everything calmed down. Adam was one of my first friends in NYC. About a month after I got here I went about trying to find Webster Hall alone to see some
shock value rapper I was in love with. The Train I usually took wasnt running, and on the way home, kinda drunk, I got very lost. On some random train, I have
probably not even been on since, I recognized this lime green fur coat that was Tommy, and said. “Hey! you were at Webster hall!” Adam was sitting next to
Tommy,his brother Jeremy was passed out on his shoulder. It was a few weeks before I ever officially met “gerald” as adam called him when he was drunk.
I explained to them that I was lost, and we figured out I lived down the street from them, and they got me home. I never really tried to make contact with them after that,
maybe a text the next day to say thank for saving my life, and not letting me ride trains around god knows where all night. until one day I ventured out to one of the
first mass days of action for OCcupy Wall St.I was alone, in a huge crowd that covered all of Washington Square park. The people covered everything, we sat ass to helbow
even inside the fountain while people spoke, and we listned and cheered and were a human microphone. I looked to my right and saw some fluffy blonde hair and eyeliner
annd immediately recognized Tommy, then Adam (in all fairness, Toms pretty easy to spot.) We made friends,and ate free pizza. I rembered adam saying he was the man to
see about a boat, and
I was in need of a ride down river. So the group of us headed back to Bushwick, and that was the first time i really hung out with Adam. Adam walked
me to the train that night, because I had no idea where I was and was still pretty bad at the navigation game…that and he was a gentleman. After that I realized I lived
about ten minutes away- walking. I did not realized I was about to make some of the best friends I would ever have. I had made a subconsious decison to frequent the Glass/stang residence
and came about quite often. Adam always had an adventure forme, and he always seemed to be around when I needed someone to just be there. I knew adam Glass for about 8 months, and he was one of the best friends I have
ever had. I will forever miss our bro time, and his crying to me about girls.
#bk #brooklyn #downtown #sunset #latergram
I had brother once who drown in a bathtub…#baby #bathtub #trash #art
forming an essential foundation or starting point; fundamental.
This sweeping notion has the potential to be so damaging. A marketing blueprint for white women under 30. I have a list of my own, composed of questions, and corrections.
Who are you to call me basic? Who wrote these guidelines? This internet field guide to pinhole women? Do I form an essential foundation or starting point? For all women? Or does the content of these lists form the basis of my existence? Am I made of my taste in footwear, and love of scented candles? My love of family, and tradition, and holidays bring about excitement in me for the changing of seasons. What of it?
Who decided? …That all white women who like these things are basic. To say all women who like these things are white. To say all people who like these things are white OR women. To assume my mind and tastes and interests can be defined by a broad list of products and trends shoved down my throat by commercials, and storefronts, and websites?
And what If I haven’t ticked enough boxes? What if the list, the quizz, the blog, says I am not the foundation? I am not simple or rudimentary. Does that make me complicated? Complex? Cumbersome? Does it make me “bad” instead of “basic”? Who really decides?
I am not the shoes I wear.
I am not the candles I burn.
I am not coffee I drink.
I am not someone else,and they are not me.
Not because we drink the same drink, burn the same candles, and wear the same shoes.
I am not a list on the internet.
The characters in my life are all incredibly different. It’s been this way for a long time now, and probably says a lot about me, and how fucked up I am, or a lot about me and how dynamic I am, but i’m sure if you found the right shrinks they’s each tell you something different. Either way, these people hold no pattern. I do, in a way. A floating ambiguous organism of alternative culture. Not quite a chameleon, not necessarily trying to blend in-only out of necessity, or anxiety… more like a lint roller, when it gets to full stuff falls off and when its time for a new one you peel off a layer.
It’s still a lint roller.
Every one is radically different from the last, but not necessarily different from another occurrence in the same sequence. One extreme to another.One type to the next. You can’t compare them in sequence, but taken out it’s easier. (keep in mind most of this is being based on surface qualities and shortly will be compared to fruits and vegetables. To delve into the personality traits… well, we haven’t got time for that. yet) In sequence, it’s not even oranges and apples its oranges and spinach, grapes and hot peppers, or lemons and celery. Maybe a water melon and kale. You can at least compare the watermelon with the orange, unless it’s seedless, and the spinach with the kale… but not in sequence.
But I can’t BE Alice!! Yes. It’s all very beautiful, at first.
Then it gets dark.
and all the smiling teeth come out to laugh, and laugh…
and you laugh
You’ve been off again,
pretending you aren’t here again
When you have to come back- and you always have to come back
nothings ever as pretty
there’s always some mess you’ve made,
Best just to stay out of it.
Rabbit holes… never any good.
#doodles #90s #flower #smile
#lines #trippy #tapestry #blackandwhite