sorry seattle,

but you hold nothing for me.
i've tried i really have but you are being a stubborn little bastard of a town.
i know where my home is...
it's the place where i can sit in a garage and smoke cigarettes until the sun comes up
then wake up and drink shitty diner coffee
and feel the warm embrace of comforting friends
acceptance,
acceptance.
and i'll never understand you.
but patience
patience
and the end will come soon.
goodnight.

stoked on:

h+son wheelset.
excuse me but i'm gonna geek out for a second,
i think i'm gonna do black rims with white spokes laced to black profile hubs.
they are going to be fucking gorgeous.
coming home.
photos.
you.
winter break!!!
garage hangouts.
sleeeeep.
seeing dave's new ride.
top of the world.

i said,

excuse me,
but i'm not searching for a cure.
i'm only searching for the place
where i was once found.
and found something
to call home.
i heard that somewhere
there was a cure for you besides,
the broken bricks and snapped
tiger lily twigs
are much more appealing to me
in these,
the days without the sun.
and you expect a few kind words to
change my mind
but i've been drinking from
a dirty well
and you've been watching
me all along.
telling me,
go on, go right on.
and haven't you seen enough already?
and haven't you been alone for so long?
but i told you.
there was a cure for me inside.

it's been awhile

since i've been rejuvenated.
since i've slipped out of the monotony
and into a place where i feel comfortable.
you have no idea how much your words mean to me
because i can't express it.


i went into our conversation exhausted.
with everything.
tired of life
tired of sadness
tired of school
tired of the same advice from the same fucking people
i left enlightened and happy for the first time in a long long time.
thankyouthankyouthankyou.

i really cannot express how much your friendship, however brief or intermittent our "hang-outs" may be, means to me.
i know this is cliché and stupid but it's true.

i've come to a realization.

hot-damn.

it's

not my fault that
garden state will always
be my favorite movie

and it's not my fault
that these songs will always
make me tear up

and it's not my fault
that i can't
go back to two years ago

and it's not my fault
because
everyone changes

and it's not
my
goddamn
fault

i promise.

let's

make bridges
and make the streams to tear them down,
lets build bombs
to blow away our broken dreams,
lets bring life to those who promise death,
and lets open our hearts
and tear away
from bitterness.
yes. yes.
yes, she said,
it will be a new sort of tomorrow.
a new start and a new pen,
on a new page.
and we'll have new friends
and we'll dance along the
streams
and carry the weight of our broken
hearts
on our backs.
we'll pick up sticks
and build a-frames in the woods
to live out the rest of our tiny lives.
and i promise you a new start.
and i'll drink the water
pouring from your lips
and i'll bandage the wounds
that i have given you
and i'll take your hand
and we'll make this right.
promises, promises, promises.

there's

an ocean inside of me,
the one where you put the shell to your ear and
you hear it.
and it's a distant calling
from far away shores,
lets make beautiful words together.
get tongue tied.
rather, tie our tongues together
in embrace,
like a beautiful bit of irony
and let the beauty enfold us like a blanket.
and
always, always
find beauty in the cracks
of the sidewalk.
broadway & pine
and the last drag off of the last cigarette.
and i've found myself to be nothing more than a spectacle to you.
and i hope you've found your peace
because i'm still searching.
transistor radio
volume up.
and i'll find it.
promises.



update:
i moved yesterday.
it's good.
apparently a girl on my old floor got really drunk last night and was sent to the hospital to get her stomach pumped...
think good thoughts for her.
i'm officially bitter towards the people who appear to only have come to college to drink.
not that they directly affect me...
but that they distract me... i feel so sorry for them.
i know that's not what they want me to feel but i really cannot help it...
and in reality i have no right to feel sorry for them...
i don't know what it is...
i just don't like it
goodnight.
i love you and i miss you all.

fuck the emerald city.

and fuck the evergreen state,
with your ever rainy mornings
and your over complacent evenings.
your binge drinking afternoons
and your exhausted midnights.
i'm sick with everything you've given me.
each glorious gift causing me more grief.
and am i only reflection?


"And yes, even in spite of the condemnation of my own closest comrades i will live my beautiful ideal."
-emma goldman


i'm still holding on to the hope that i can live my ideals
and that i won't feel the need to be complacent or to conform.
revolt, rebuild, resist, resist.