Cutting the onions and sweeping the floor

Bad coffee and and an even badder cigarette

We're plagued to forget.

It isn't so likely 

To forget.

Same story, different page. 

Same page, different story.

Uncertainties fitter in ramblings of other times of love 

of being in between

We remember epic moments,

remember? Remember?

Have we remembered?

What does it take to remember?

I remembered once.

I remembered once that I wanted to forget.

and so I forgot

and all was forgotten

until later

when I was reminded.

How do epiphanies come and go like wheat?

days that pass while I'm underneath

trying not to remember

knowing I can't forget.

To great revelations!

To karma as I sleep.

What's left?

Only days yet to come

as we wait and want and wither.

Trying to know.

I don't want to know.

I don't want to know anything.

I don't want to do.

I don't want to do anything.

I want to be.

Just as many were. 

Just as I am,

yet here and now

questions arise while taking tea-

and this is all I could ask really

since it keeps working

until it doesn't really.

Sweep the floor.

Sweep the floor.

Chop some onions.

Don't forget the sun or trees or air back "home"

these are what made you little one.

You can be amongst them, 

but you'd still be wondering, working, walking, whining.

Cutting the onions and sweeping the floor. 

I Remember

I was thinking today about a really short thing I wrote in my Creative Writing class last year. A little search in my documents and success! I found it.

I Remember

                      The little fluffy cotton ball mice, placed on the branches of the christmas tree. They smelled like spice; cloves and cinnamon. Today someone told me that I smell like spice. Maybe I'm a little mouse on the branch with the fake snow. Hiding away; warm and cozy.

                       I only remember knees. I couldn't see very high- so I examined the knees, legs, feet. I remember a tree, a porch, a little field that flooded during storms, a field where mice would play. Maybe I belonged out there with the other mice.

                       I remember being curious. The say curiousity killed the cat but maybe it was really just the mice getting revenge.

                       I remember when they said the garage door was broken. When they said not to go there. I remember sneaking down, quiet like a mouse. The loud banging on the shiny red corvette, loud enough to scare any mouse and make them cry. I remember realizing they didn't mean the large automatic door- a spectacle that would be exhilirating to any mouse. I remember wanting to be that mouse on the branch, hiding cozy with the smell of spices.

Dedicated to the one I love, Sasha star dog.

Could it be that one person's 'inspired' is another's completely cracked out? Sometimes I think I have a good idea or try to work something out but to no avail. Kind of like blogging, haha. I've been feeling extra neurotic lately. I can't believe Sasha died. It's like the most bizarre thing. All my shit doesn't matter too much, though. Not now. I do suppose I'm trying to be content because there's always so much more to the story. I have been thinking about grammar and language. I want to be back in school. I think I know what I want now at least.  Yes, I do believe so.

But it's all okay, 

But it's all okay

these days

it feels like I've lost a friend. 

But it's all okay

But it's all okay. 

I have been reflecting. Is it all about having or being wealthy enough? Or is it more about knowing what it is that you want, really, very properly identifying what it is that you want, and focusing all of your energies into it? So as to sort of, attract it. No matter what. Fight hard. That sort of thing. Upside- I won a pair of shoes, downside- I found out the same day as we found Sasha dead. They say most deaths occur close to home. I found out September 20th that my dad died September 19th. We found out September 3rd that Sasha died on September 2nd. Perhaps having my September in Chile be Spring, instead of Fall I will have some sort of a healing. Fall is dying. Spring is rebirth.

God, relationships are complicated. Be them romantic, friendly, or how-you-relate to other things, even abstractly. 

Like how I want to smoke a cigarette. 

A moment of honesty, though- true feelings;

It's what I (thought) I wanted but is it what I need? It's what I (thought) I needed but is it what I want? Hm....

Common questions come to analytical mind as often happens in worry trance. 

Timeless,

nothings timeless

timeless,

nothings.

We aren't sure

of cracks

in the wall. 

But what is the foundation? How do you separate your mind? HOW DO WE CO-MU-NI-CATE ?

-wonderful, wonderful.

-may I sleep?

-maybe not

-trend of sleep?

-not long sought

-gimmie that

-candy for them all!

-a doll in the box

-little, tiny whim

-hum hum, buzz buzz

-let me (w)in. 

__________________________________

under, mine.

out of time.

little bit thick.

roly poly

moly, miss holy

flatten out the dough

moly roly,

holy miss poly

holy moly,

poly miss roly 

My mind is wandering often in and out of extreme thought and quirkiness. I am trying to be open with my formatting and what comes out, since that's how it flows sometimes. This girl asked me if I knew why I make music, well I will also say it has to do with why I write: for me, creative process = spiritual meditation. Hari om tat sat! 

the goods 

They sent me trinkets

I know ever since Inception everyone is into these totems. I myself have a few. 

So, I have cut my hair a lot. I like it. It's free. I have acquired some cool necklaces and it feels good. Good vibes coming. I have been writing for The Hive if anyone wants to check it out, similar content but pretty cool to be publishing and sharing work. :) 

http://thehiveannarbor.com/