we made some paul and kat magnets today and stuck 'em on a few random places..
Greetings, from Paul and Kat.com!
Hello, Lovine.com
Wherever you go, there you are.
we made some paul and kat magnets today and stuck 'em on a few random places..
can't wait for the beginning of another weekend. as short as it may be, it's one of the perks after the weeklong doldrums of soul selling. the stakes are high, and we owe it to ourselves to risk a little, wear hearts on our sleeves, and conquer the streets that are littered with bored souls.
america wants you to think that work buys money buys happiness. my bumper sticker thinks fun buys laughter buys life.
and when you're lucky, it's for free too.
lost in the snazzy bits of reality? trying to get cohesive thoughts of reason together to fabricate an escape plan from the grind? the literal dimensions of a cube is at the mercy of the walls you can construct and deconstruct with the gray matter between your ears - space and freedom are relative. an endless faucet drips a primordial soup of incomplete thoughts, half baked feelings, and swirlpool of forgotten emotional baggage on the shoulders of the weary traveler. who stops to smell the flowers but forgot to remind the cat that the world should stop turning at 5:30 so he went home instead. heavy eyelids are my only crime, from a dusty day of cube farming. and so with quiet fingertaps on the keyboard i give the final salute to another day's dollar on the powerful all-american paycheck - thank you for allowing me to succumb to the temptations of greed, false pretensions of power, fast cars hot chicks new guitars, and to live the american dream in my new underwear.
it's weird how much effort it takes to not make sense, when you consciously understand that you probably don't during most of the day.
i started this blog four years ago, an empty slate to jog my memory and exercise my thoughts. when hundreds of thoughts run through your head during the day, so much can be kept or so much can be lost to the routines of responsibility. and so i sat myself down every couple of days to do some soul stretching of sorts. it felt like that workout when you've been dormant for awhile, and discover a few places you never knew existed because they start smarting a few days later. it's the same pain of discovery because i never really wrote.. when you're in the final throes of collegiate tomfoolery, any random outlet of expression becomes fair game. and so i kept writing. when i felt like it. what i felt like writing. to express simple sentiments. to play with conjectures of reason. to have fun. to make something. to take ownership of my lost thoughts.
life is a warm vinyl record filling the room. across walls of orange toned photographs and watercolor forests, pencil sketches and album covers. sitting on the foot of the bed. or dancing. nothing in tow but sincerity, no promises except for getting drunk on high spirits. mysteries never ready to reveal, curiosity that is never lonely. sun jars glowing on the balcony, home-made melodies that last well beyond the night's slumber.
happy st. patrick's day! cheers to friends, old and new, young and old, tomorrow and yesterday, and everything in between!
i got lost for a few seconds tonight while i strummed a few notes on the guitar that hasn't sang in a while. i whispered a few words into someone's sleepy dream. and for a few seconds i felt that i was really communicating something. no matter if the audience had been asleep, or the notes were off kilter. but the reality of what i wanted to say was how it came out. quite rare, considering i maintain a constant struggle to validate abstract thoughts and feelings into jumbled words, pixelated images, random knickknacks that never really answer the questions posed by my mind's imagery. but for a few seconds tonight, i found my own footing. and quite apt, that half of it was shared in a dream..
