T E L E P O R T A T I O N
R O D
4.30.2009
4.29.2009
4.26.2009
4.23.2009
wrote this last night walkin home
walking down the alley pure of paranoia, i dont know why. and feeling all the voices and musics from the buildings on either side filtering through my own mumbling thoughts like radio crossfire
i can only see one star when i look up but i feel all that noise is part of the star, or coming from its song weaving through the warping of spacetime.
and here comes a man walking down the middle of the alley, a silhouette with his arms loose at his sides yet tense as though ready to grip of punch something...but maybe i am just getting paranoid now.
and it looks like hes walkin right toward me and i weave my path a little -- maybe its my subconscious instinct of what you supposed to do when u gettin shot at, or just an action that would lead me to avoid him without bein obvious about it.
and i want to amplify our heartbeats. so we can feel each others' presence loud.
but he joins his friends beside the dumpster, shaggy men asking if someone was "there" or if its just them or something like that. and he said "its just us". (i think). and i did a twirl to coax away any lingering fear and dunked the shimmery plastic wrap from my littledebbie snack in the dumpster one of the men was leaning against with his fluffy orange blond hair and prickly blonde mustache.
and i walked away, trippin on the final dissolving of cream sugar on my lips;
and the dumpsters breathed on me their farewell just as i hit a crossroad and left the alley.
the voices were also carried by the quiet webbing of the sewer, rushing beneath my feet like a physical voice you can feel and hold in your hands. maybe thats what water is -- the most physical yet abstract voice we have ever felt and tasted. next is fire, next, human existence. or maybe im just bullshitting ideas sitting on this toilet and i forgot toilet paper and dont wanna get up.
i can only see one star when i look up but i feel all that noise is part of the star, or coming from its song weaving through the warping of spacetime.
and here comes a man walking down the middle of the alley, a silhouette with his arms loose at his sides yet tense as though ready to grip of punch something...but maybe i am just getting paranoid now.
and it looks like hes walkin right toward me and i weave my path a little -- maybe its my subconscious instinct of what you supposed to do when u gettin shot at, or just an action that would lead me to avoid him without bein obvious about it.
and i want to amplify our heartbeats. so we can feel each others' presence loud.
but he joins his friends beside the dumpster, shaggy men asking if someone was "there" or if its just them or something like that. and he said "its just us". (i think). and i did a twirl to coax away any lingering fear and dunked the shimmery plastic wrap from my littledebbie snack in the dumpster one of the men was leaning against with his fluffy orange blond hair and prickly blonde mustache.
and i walked away, trippin on the final dissolving of cream sugar on my lips;
and the dumpsters breathed on me their farewell just as i hit a crossroad and left the alley.
the voices were also carried by the quiet webbing of the sewer, rushing beneath my feet like a physical voice you can feel and hold in your hands. maybe thats what water is -- the most physical yet abstract voice we have ever felt and tasted. next is fire, next, human existence. or maybe im just bullshitting ideas sitting on this toilet and i forgot toilet paper and dont wanna get up.
4.22.2009
4.21.2009
im makin as many drawings as possible
so someday it will be a sea of layers all over the walls like a pop-up-book room
4.20.2009
4.16.2009
easter
we went to this lutheran church
and played in the playroom
the quaint old toys kept inspiring us
there was no paper to write our ideas, but the chalkboard was perfect.
4.07.2009
4.05.2009
4.02.2009
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