4 year dread head.

i know a handful of cats like this, lol. too funny.

tofurkey + cranberry sauce.

clearly i'm supposed to be in the kitchen cutting up onions or something (and the way my moms is, there's much more than that involved)
but!
i wanted to take a moment and wish you kids a happy thanksgiving, even if you don't really celebrate it. have a meal with family, serve takeout chinese food, whatever. spend time with people you care about, tell them how much you love + appreciate them, get mushy. your family (blood or otherwise) is a gift, treasure them.

i'm off to spend some quality time with a pot of greens, see you on the flip side of my food coma.

maybe i'm overthinking this buuuut....

does anyone else see something..wrong with this commercial?

and so anxiety creeps in.

it's so lovely to be home. a fridge full of food (and not a ramen pack in sight!), a new tv with cable, wireless internet and a BED. i spent last evening with my love, and slept til early this afternoon. my body is still requesting bed rest, and i shall happily oblige :)

however, despite me being fully justified in sleeping this week away, i was up today hammering away on the computer, searching for local paid internships in advertising & communications. i feel guilty for sitting too long, something that perhaps my mom has a hand in rubbing off on me. i'm debating whether this is a good thing or not, but in the meantime i'm twiddling my thumbs, ready to attack my next project. the one emblazoned with "LIFE" in big, red letters.

i'm nervous. the market sucks, there's no need to rehash that. but the very root of my soul refuses to let that be a hindrance to me living and creating the life that i desire. i'm going to have to hustle harder than i can imagine, but that's life. it's meant to be lived.

zombie time.

you haven't had a project until you get one that requires you to sell this thing.
oh man. let me go home now please.

MY PRESIDENT IS BLACK.

...a sentence i never thought i'd EVER say.
words cannot express. if you think it's just about an election, you have no idea.
no idea.

#2

She studied the end of her cigarette, ghost lines drawn in the space around her hooded head.

"Every weekend, I party and drink and life is great, i mean...i've met awesome people but..."

She took another drag.

"What's the point? I mean, I'm not suicidal or anything, but what's the point if this is all there is?"

I jiggled my leg, trying to generate some sort of body head against the wet 40 degree evening. I looked down at the sidewalk, a thin covering of mist a blanket on everything in its path. Everyone had gone back inside the gallery, and I silently berated myself for not wearing more layers.

She continued, words poised on the edge of a massive existentialist abyss. I remembered what it was like at the bottom of that pit, and suddenly my wise words escaped me, all sounds of encouragement at once empty and heavy with insufficiency.

"Life is beautiful, right? That's what they say, anyway."

My eyes scanned the empty road.

"You're looking for your purpose, right? YOUR point?"

She flicked the filter into the street, and quickly hid her hand in her pocket.

"I guess. I guess I can't figure out the difference between being alive or dead."

#1.

i've knelt at the fountain of passion
for hours
lips grazing the surface so long
oil slicks have formed.
i awake
staring at ants
bemoaning a disappointingly weak hangover.

what of my inquiring knees
flattened kneecaps
waiting for an answer
sadness is needy
and my frustration feeds it
dripping spoonfuls of unrequited purpose.
there are no instructions
to an unknown location
at every bend i ask
hoping for a clue
or sense of direction.

--a.w.