mediums

Mediums are a blur to me. I want to take a photograph, transfer it to a piece of wood, etch the details, scan it, digitalize it, make it dance, render it, compose the soundtrack, then project it onto the original work live while narrating an original piece about the subject. My ideas are feasible and my resources are limitless; all except time. If I were born somewhere else and into better money, I wouldn't have this problem, but I wouldn't have the creativity and drive as I do now. I was born into the greatest environment I could possibly imagine; freedom.

I'm not talking about America, I'm talking about my wonderful parents who, as artists themselves, gave me the freedom to pursue whatever I wanted, and I did. Everything. From dance to acting, drumming to photography, I finally found who I am and I can't quite put myself in one specific category. My ambitions stretch greater than any privilege or social accommodation could afford. I will find a way to convey my excellence. And I will find a way to make those who allowed me to be proud.

revived

moreover,
our lives crossed over
lines drawn bolder than
lingering soldiers
yielding to their fate
make no mistake,
our deaths will be faked
love is at stake;
life is a waste
you and i, awake

i drew some shapes and wrote this beneath them

in the wee hours of the morning,
when the sun is cold
and the grass is silver,
when breath is thick
and movements are stiff,
i see the shadows cast by giants
and stand in the wake of the moon.

i know that when reflections tremble,
the winds are disturbed
and the earth is afraid.
i know that when the day fades away,
the sun is ashamed
and the moon is victorious.
and i know,
now more than ever,
that i stand tallest
when no one's around
to catch me
when i fall.

theoretical conversations (part one)

The Past & The Future

FUTURE: Thank you.
PAST: For what?
FUTURE: Shaping me.
PAST: I wish I would've known. I would've done things differently.
FUTURE: Don't say that. I'm grateful for every flaw and indecision.
PAST: I could've made you better.
FUTURE: You could've made me worse.
PAST: You have no idea what you are.
FUTURE: I have a vague design in mind.
PAST: I dig your optimism.
FUTURE: I appreciate your stamina.
PAST: Do you believe in your longevity?
FUTURE: As much as you've proven me to exist, I do.
PAST: So not so much?
FUTURE: Actually, every last second.


A Ball Held High & The Ground

GROUND: I'm here for you.
BALL: Only to return me to where I began.
GROUND: Still, I won't let you die.
BALL: But I might as well if I'm to return to my previous state.
GROUND: It's not so bad, being high above the noise and debris.
BALL: You should try seeing the world as I have.
GROUND: I would if I could. I'm stuck.
BALL: How I would love to travel the paths you create.
GROUND: You have that option. I, however do not.
BALL: I am a wanderer.
GROUND: And I am stagnant.
BALL: I find solace in knowing you'll always be there.
GROUND: You can count on me for that, at least.
BALL: I can't wait to meet you.


A Man & The Road

ROAD: I won't always be here for you.
MAN: How else will I know where to go?
ROAD: You put me here, you made me.
MAN: So I could make another?
ROAD: You've known where to go all along. You made me so you wouldn't get lost.
MAN: I can't imagine where I'd go next.
ROAD: I'm not leaving yet. You'll know when the time comes.
MAN: But you'll stay with me until then?
ROAD: Every step of the way.


A Grape & A Glass of Wine

GRAPE: I see myself in you.
WINE: You remind me of my younger days.
GRAPE: I can't wait to grow up.
WINE: You'll regret what you become a part of.
GRAPE: At least I'll be a part of something.
WINE: You already are. You are better than me.
GRAPE: I can't see that. You are aged and wise.
WINE: You are helpful. I am destructive.
GRAPE: You give me a purpose.
WINE: I am merely a glimpse of your future.
GRAPE: A respected future.
WINE: I will cease to be soon. Cherish this time you have to grow.
GRAPE: I will, thank you. Your honesty astounds me.
WINE: The truth is in me.


The Sun & The Moon

SUN: Without me you would not shine.
MOON: I am the reassurance of your existence in your absence.
SUN: I am relied upon to rise every day while your presence at night is laughable.
MOON: We share the sky from dawn 'til dusk, but the night is all mine.
SUN: I only let you have your moment. I could kill you if I wanted.
MOON: Then you, as well, would cease to exist.
SUN: You need me.
MOON: Not to exist, but to be made aware of, yes.
SUN: But I don't need you. I share my light out of pity.
MOON: I appreciate your generosity, don't get me wrong.
SUN: And without you I wouldn't serve my full purpose.
MOON: We're a great team, you and I.
SUN: I guess we are.


The Wind & The Trees

WIND: We are strong and can prove it.
TREES: Our branches are weak, but our roots are strong.
WIND: Our true force is immeasurable.
TREES: We dare you to defy our resistance.
WIND: Is that a threat?
TREES: We've felt the wrath of Rain and Drought. What more can you do?
WIND: We can shape and bend and break you if we wanted.
TREES: But we are an army and will stand together and revive the fallen.
WIND: Will you not succumb to our gusts of determination?
TREES: We've dug too deep. We are here for good.
WIND: Then why fight it? We will prove you're alive.
TREES: And we'll do the same.


The Wolf & His Prey

WOLF: You know I'll get you soon.
PREY: 'Get' is too broad a term for that grin you're wearing.
WOLF: I will capture and consume you, to clarify.
PREY: You had your chance, but you decided to explain.
WOLF: I have plenty of time.
PREY: One would assume so, but that's not the case.
WOLF: So I've already lost?
PREY: It would appear so.
WOLF: But I'm here; I'm ready; I've exposed my plan; I'm vigilant.
PREY: And I'm aware.
WOLF: Can mere awareness warrant evade?
PREY: It can.

no trespassing

no more will i reside in the tender gray
no more will games be lost, lest they be played
no longer will i see a break in the wake as gain
no trespassing, i say to the lady in wait
no angel does a heaven make
no more will i stress to shake
no grace as i wish to see her face
no trespassing, i whisper as i fake
uncertainty

sleeping in waves

It was getting dark when I realized I had been sleeping standing up. I was unsure of the time as I stood facing the mist and the wind. As I opened my eyes to watch the last sliver of sun get swallowed by the sea, she made her way into my thoughts. Maybe she'd never left. Maybe I took her presence in my head for granted before now. Maybe I was waiting for her to make sense. Either way, she was welcome and I was ready for her to take hold.

And she did with vigor and resilience.

If I had come to a minute later than I had, I would have been fooled by her brightness and warmth into thinking it was midday and I had been here all night. I willed myself to turn around and go the way of the rising tide toward the boardwalk. I was almost to the pier when I heard footsteps behind me "It's her," I thought. Or rather, I knew.

the night before

I woke up with a pain in my chest and a needle in my arm. The soothing hum of florescent lights buzzed above me. I touched my face and felt what I figured was about three days worth of facial hair growth. There was red pea coat laying over the back of a large chair that had been pulled ever so close to my bed. The familiar scent of rosewood and Pantene hung in the air, just enough to hide the musk of being bedridden.

I reached for the remote on the bed stand and turned on the small television bolted to the corner of the room and saw my face with the underline "Man survives freak construction accident." I could question this statement just as I could question my mere existence, but thought better of it. Better I wait for my bedside companion to ask any questions. Better to reflect on what I believe happened three days before.

I remember going over the proposed blueprints for the new housing development soon to go up on the site of an outdoor mall left dead by the recession. I remember scouting the demolition site and surveying the crane's strike points. I remember hearing the crackled words spew from my radio giving the go ahead to the operator. I remember feeling a need to go into the building. I remember staring out a window on the fourth story. I remember not being able to move. I remember the wrecking ball, however briefly. Didn't they know I was still in the building? Did I tell anyone? What was so important that I had to go back in? These are the questions I have, not that anyone would know except me. I still have to ask.

My thoughts stop cold as whispering words waft in from the hallway.

"He'll need to be watched for the next couple of days. His body is healing fine, but his mental state has yet to be determined."

My mental state? Besides being a little shook up, I feel fine. My thoughts are appreciative. I'm just glad I'm alive. I think.

Emilia whispered something appreciatively and opened the door. She saw I was awake and stood in the doorway for a second. She looked concerned. As she walked towards me and let the door close behind her, I caught a glimpse of a piece of paper taped to outside of the door. In thick black marker the words were written "Suicide Attempt". I watched the door close and let her stand by my side for a moment.

wrecking ball

I sat still, in a daze from the night before, relinquishing all power I ever had over myself and my counterparts.

"Are you alright?" Emilia stood over me with a look of genuine concern I hadn't seen since the accident. Besides the four walls of my hospital room, endless infomercials, and Emil's apartment, that's all there's been to see. Some people have it worse.

I'm great, I answer still staring off. I'm thirsty.

She turned around and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the puff of air as the refrigerator was opened. I heard the rummaging through leftovers and water bottles. I heard liquid filling a glass. I heard footsteps. I heard "Here you go," but did nothing to reach for the glass or acknowledge Em's courtesy. I heard the glass being set down on the coffee table. I heard more footsteps and a door close down the hallway. She's not mad, trust me.

I've been listening a lot lately. You know the saying 'You don't know what you have until you don't hear the foreman yell LOOKOUT! and get hit in the chest with a 2,400 pound wrecking ball'? Of course not.

The doctors said I was lucky to be alive. The physical therapists said I was lucky if I ever walk again. The lawyers said I'd be lucky if Workman's Comp pays my medical bills, I signed a waiver, I should have read it, I must be stupid. I heard them. I don't feel lucky. I don't feel stupid. I feel thirsty.

I reached for the sweating glass and lifted it to my lips. I tasted cold. I swear I never realized what potential I had until I met with death. It was a casual sit-down. He wore a collared Polo shirt. I was still in my work clothes. Death offered me water, I remember. Few words were spoken, just 'Hey,' and 'You shouldn't be here.' I emptied the glass and pressed my numb palms against the firm couch to aid in my standing. I succeeded and I was satisfied.

I stood, in a daze from the night before, relinquishing all understanding of how I got from my hospital bed to her apartment. It's a memory I'll have to recollect someday. But for now, I hear birds chirping and know I need sleep. I retire to the only place I know I'm wanted, and when I open her bedroom door I hear,

"Good morning."

tied and true

more often than not i'm caught
in a string of unbreakable knots
unfakable plots
leaving me deterred and endured
to the make-believers
the shake-relievers
the sake-deceivers
the everyman
so savvy-handed
i stay branded
to the differences
the anonymous dawn
never forgets the faces set aglow
the traces of the souls
set so far from your own
let live the critics
they make us greater
we heard the hate from their mouths
and watched it hit the ground
without a sound
blood stains the tiled castle floor
the king is furious with us
we pay him no mind
he owes us
oh yes

in the event of memory loss

the beginning of a long night ends with the evidence of boredom.
a slight nod to the idea of feeding the moon's curiosity
leads to heads hung low, too tired to be held high.
whether it be the thought of seeing the destruction laid before us
or the comfort of witnessing our ability to keep up the pace,
we love knowing there's ground beneath our feet.
a shallow creek is no match for our long strides
and a makeshift grave is no reason to dig up the past.
so we look forward to our excursions,
undercover of darkness,
among the living proof
and the dead wrong.
calculating the outcome of the night's events
is about as probable as guessing the weight of regret.
it's not until the first signs of morning creep through shut blinds
that we really know where we went right.
and even then,
who knows,
we may have to reflect and consider each step,
each leap
before we really comprehend our transgressions.

i sure as hell hope so.

dead

i will disappear.
believe you, me;
my ink will lay,
but my soul will be slain.

nevermind the gracious

too passively aggressive
to portray the impressive
oppressive, possessive, successor
your excess was unimpressive
come respect without a message
labor-intensive ethic
be cool, it's much more intensive
to be a prince without a princess
ready or not; i call not
forgetting how to love is never forgot
decomposition never rots
and moving on is moon-shot
creepy suitors repress serenity
impress a slacker's identity
with retracted amenities
there i am, or rather was

thirty-three days

i will be blogging about my trip to new york and the tour with flying machines to sxsw.

february 27th 'til my return to fresno on march 31st will be:

these thirty-three days