wallswordswallswordswallswords

What are words for when no one listens anymore? when no one listens there's no use talking at all. do you hear me? do you care? do you hear me? do you care? my lips are moving and the sound is coming out...its like you just realized you dont know what you just read.

I was writing the lyrics out so I could ask you who sang them. and boom. its Missing Persons.

I so dug them.

she used to wear glass bowls...yes..bowls...like 4 little glass bowls..as a skirt.

Everything I want to talk about feels cranky. My anger and frustration level is Orange ( sorry had to do it). from now on Im not going to call PMS...pms...Im going to call it Pele Threat Level Orange. Just so everyone knows to get me plenty of chocolate and give me plenty of space. The Duct Tape Wont Save You. Are we clear on this? "Mr. St. John just bring your son.."-tori amos

I was going to write supercilious,whom I think is wonderful,an email. but. I think Ill wait a couple of days. Or at least until the midol mood control battle group begin their counter assault.

I feel especialy powerless today. Lorca called the artists inspiration the Duende...but he likened it to something Evil. I like to think of it more as...definitely something that comes from within..and seizes control of the pre-occupation.....but not something evil.

refluence talked about this recently in her diary. and she is very very right. its a posession of sorts.

Im posessed by walls. Im in need of some serious creative companionship. I need it.

I need art without pretension. I need creation with out a god-complex. I need free open thinking with self respect as its only boundary. I need to be connected.

to the universal community.

my friend Dawn that lives in Germany...whom I miss Horribly! She is like the sister that was sent away to live with some obscure aunt. she is my twin in soul. I miss her. anyway. she said once, "dont apologize for being deep..."

I love how everyone here in Dland ...digs deeper. I love how this process of writing and reading provokes the truth.

wishlist:

I wanna make music

I wanna make art

I wanna make a movie

I wanna make a clay pot

I wanna make a dress

I wanna make shoes

I wanna make a perfect painting

I wanna grow

I wish.

searching the lowlands of my destruction for birth and blueprints, I re-tie my shoelaces and pull back my hood.

Im off to have some ice cream with chocolate sauce,crushed walnuts,and bananna.

If this were a painting. Karl Appel would be proud.

peace