undah presha'.

these cats are amazing.



this weekend is full of deadlines. i know some people proudly proclaim that they work better when they procrastinate, or when they're on deadline persay. i think you're all lying. the only reason people say that is because they are actually producing something. strict deadlines make me even more scatter brained than my normally abnormal manic state. you can only imagine what my desk looks like. paper with scribbled notes everywhere, and i'm supposed to compile finished pieces out of these half-thoughts. my used and re-used coffee cup (proudly dawning the rings of many a late night), a fantastic black pen that decided to explode all over my hand and a banana peel? on top of it all i'm addicted to biggie this week; i'm listening to that suicidal thoughts track off of ready to die over and over. there are no suicidal thoughts going on by any means, but i have this intense urging to holla at some mickey's and shoot dice. i should probably put something less badass on, like fall out boy or katy perry.

just a couple tidbits.

1. if gibbons manages to pass the most atrocious act against education since no child left behind, i will personally wreck shop on his face. 30% budget cuts, pshttt.

2. got a sweet new bike. went on a ride tonight and got two flat tires. the universe is laughing at me.

3. i'll leave you with some face melting Rosseau:

In consequence of seeing each other often, they could not do without seeing each other constantly. A tender and agreeable mode of sentiment insinuated itself into the soul, which the least opposition converted into an impetuous fury: love gave birth to jealousy; discord triumphed, and human blood was sacrificed to the gentlest of all the passions.

get all warm and fuzzy inside. sleep sweet. xo.

Love, with Trees and Lightning

I've been thinking about what love is for.
Not the dramatic part where he gathers
until he is as purposeful inside her
as an electric storm. Not when he breaks
into a thanks so bright it leaves her split
like a tree. (How we all jolt back, our picnic
ten shades lighter, our hands clapped over awe
that is too big for our mouths, our raw hearts
more tender now that they're a little burned.)

No, not the connecting and charring part.
(After all, nothing we like to call lightning
stays very long among the branches.)
But the two of them, afterwards, tasting
the electricity. Nibbling the charge
on the ions. When her soul has already
risked coming to meet him at the wide open
window of her skin. When what is left
of his body still feels huge, and he sits draped
in his fine, long coat of animal muscles
but uses all this strength to be human
and almost imperceptible. They curl up,
make their bodies the same size, draw promises
in one another's juices. "You," they say.
I love it when they say that.

-excerpt from Love, with Trees and Lightning
-Catie Rosemurgy

hella grub.

over the past nine months or so i have developed an accute appreciation for food that is readily available. to be clear, the luxury of having food in one's pantry and refrigerator. what a novelty, i know. in being an almost entirely self-sufficient young woman, with almost no true marketable skills (besides your standard waitressing/sales/mindless entry level position kind of skills), food is truly a BLESSING, as is cash moneyz.

i have had two, yes TWO, home-cooked meals in the past TWO days. absolutely fantastic.

in 2009 i pledge to not eat bisquick pancakes or instant pasta and prego. though, i do have a healthy respect for said economical foods, i don't think i can stomach any more overly processed affordable starches.

college is worth it, if not for the knowledge, for the security of a full pantry.
kidding. going to school is cool. get educated, ya'll.

i love LETTERS!

i love letters. write me!

in loving memory.

leo, a lonely man, died of a massive heart attack on wednesday evening.

leo had an estranged daughter, and his siblings all live in europe. leo loved budweiser and cigarettes. leo made cakes for a living, and he died alone.

leo, who always called me little one, i hope you rest in peace. you were a sad man, but a good one.

dude is fiyah.

neil young like a hurricane from mary davis on Vimeo.

WHAT'S REALLY GOOD.

wall animation video by Blu.

this artist is phenomenal. enjoy :)


MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

once upon a time.

mama angel
told her little bird
that she'd never
drink again,
never hurt her
again.
mama angel
never meant any harm,
she never wanted
to lie.

-chelsie.

organized religion.

religion is a means of universal mind control for people that need someone to tell them what morality is, how to live their life, help abate loneliness, and to attempt answering questions that are unanswerable.

i guess everyone needs something to believe in.

full moon.

tonight, the moon is the biggest and the brightest it's going to be all year.

i keep getting this butterfly type feeling, for no apparent reason. strange things are happening. or there's always the possibility that i just drank too much coffee.

i prefer my superstitions.

birds.

i don't know what i believe in. if i were to believe in reincarnation, i'd say i was a bird in my past life. one that fell from the nest early on, but loved to migrate.a gypsy of sorts.

sometimes i forget how to use my wings, but they're in working order again.

changed my forever.

i left the a piece of strange album by cunninlynguists playing on the computer when my popz needed to use it. i could hear him humming along to the melodies from the living room. i came in thirty minutes later. direct quote, "i'm diggin these tunes, chels."

made me smile. hip hop for all ages, son.

current songs on repeat:

Hellfire -CunninLynguists
Song Cry -Jay Z
Like a Hurricane -Neil Young
I Want You -Common
Halfway Home -TV on the Radio
Electric Feel -MGMT
Silently -Clara Moto ft. Mimu

tupac.

Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping it's dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.

-mr. tupac shakur

speaks for itself.