Emma Louise // Jungle

I’ve slowed down on dreaming as of late. My visions are still filled with thoughts of grandeur, but I notice still my pace has fallen back. I think about my day-to-day and I now read more articles than books. I dream of living on a beach and still I fantasize, but even my thoughts of sex are slimmer. And I don’t like this/agree with it whatsoever.

And it’s because I have a job – and I like it very much and I love that it is in Manhattan. But this city never fucking sleeps and either do I. So I stay up late and roll into work just on time. My game face is on from there. Be it talking with clients, casually flirting, or pretending to solve very minuscule problems considering how many problems can my position really face?

So my visionary list of to-do’s and want-to-do’s must begin again. Here goes nothing.

Dreaming, running, creating, drawing, screenprinting, traveling, getting lost in fashion and music, shadows, children’s books, water and rafting, sledding, nudity, rooftops and bikinis, stretching, hot steam, slow breathing, massages, blowjobs, growing, smoking, photos, climaxing, holistic treatments, writing, searching for adventure, barhopping, getting into travel and food, new prospects, employment with friends, tattoos, big plans, big eyes, falsies, trying new toys and treatments, scar tissue building and shedding, recycling old favorites, new men in bed, finding women to kiss, trailing on never-ending dreams.


My Morning Jacket // Wordless Chorus

How come musicians are some of the worst dancers? They create the entire show. Actors and actresses in costumes pretending to move that way naturally. It seems a little forced considering no one who warrants attention actually seeks it. It’s just a natural phasing.

And why are we awkwardly linked to people we accidentally become best friends with. Like hey! It’s orientation week and I have no friends, so I’ll cling to you because you also are friendless. Then we pair off inseparably for a two week span before finding our more realistic click, trying hard to forget the former bond just to erase the embarrassment.

Too many people I do this one too. I’ll figure them all out before actually meeting them – see them around, listen to them speak while in the same class, trying to not look in their emerald eyes when I see them in person even though I’ve seen like ten-thousand pictures on my computer. It’s weird how we live. Because then you meet these enigmas in real-life and they usually sort of suck. But it’s hard to really forgive yourself for thinking they were something greater than their reality.

Sometimes I think about why I like lace too. Lace feels best on my breasts. Every slight movement in lace makes for a caressing, faint massage. Especially in sensitive regions, it can be quite pleasurable. I like to dress up for myself sometimes. Wear my raciest underwear to a mundane work day, sometimes even to the gym. I like pretending I’m a lot of things, but maybe I need to start understanding that I’m not playing house – maybe this is my real life and my real mannerisms.

I once saw a video of myself and it was at first intimidating because I was talking to a fake audience at my camera. But I kept replaying the video because I really liked dissecting my lips and my decanting slur that I realized, maybe I just like myself.

And I do. Enough to know when to give what you are given. Thus, cleaning out a rusted refrigerator, sharing the dinner I then made, while beforehand, smoking up my roommates. Something had to give, and it was me.

Feel good always even if you’re chorus isn’t as wordless but as pointless as can be. At least you’re free.

J.Period K’naan // Relationships Lay

I long to see you in the morning light.

Whatever colors you have… in your mind. dum dum dum

I had it all figured out with you. Cut you off cold-turkey. Quick and the most painless. But something crept in late at night as I laid dreaming, looking at the stars outside my window. I longed to see you underneath them on some gritty terrain, fossilized by the whirling nightly winds and swooshing waves as she sang her lullabies. She softened my hardend shell and let me rest my shoulders. My neck relaxed and my fingers tingled out of their numbness. The blood was rushing back to my arms and legs and I began to feel your presence. I wanted to smile and bounce on my toes as I drifted through the day. I was warmer towards all walks of people, thinking of others before myself. I wanted to hum every second because silence was too mundane. And you were full of color and blushing scents.

And I remembered just why I couldn’t keep you out. When I was with you it was broken down into seconds, like time was opening it’s house to us. And when I talked to you by phone your voice was just enough to keep me waiting until I could see you. And now that my time with you has to be shared with things that are out of our reach, it makes those warmest memories something bitter. A cold chill comes and I want to shout at you because I don’t know the next time I can hear you, let alone see you… And my instant reaction is to block you out so I don’t have to feel. But I want to feel, especially the goodness you always offer. Why leave that great attraction and mutual enjoyment outside in the frozen? You can be all good things to me even if I can never keep you.

I guess it’s safe for me to admit, that I rather keep a piece of you even if it can never be the whole of you. And a piece, while small, can fill up more voids than with you gone.


And I like smiling. After all is said and done, I’m happy just doing whatever it is that keeps me dreaming, believing, fantasizing, lusting, and making me float.


Sail // Awolnation


To me this is the definition of a perfect video. A one-song soundtrack synced to some crazy awesome shit that sucks you in.

This dude is a male siren. A bit skinny for my taste but the cuts in his back and stomach absolutely make up for it. He’s a good fuck I’d say. Not bad on the eyes but like Dionysus in the sheets — sans orgy because this frenchie is clearly a lover of one (or two) ladies at a time, but not a bukaki kinda guy.

To think a body can move like this. That we’re capable of convincing ourselves that this is what we have minds for. To learn new acts that are as cool as this. Shit’s possible; all of it. We just have to try and practice and “think we can-think we can” and practice some more. Set down McCarthy writes as the voice of Suttree’s pals. All these dudes roamed old train cars and walked in barren farm towns up and down the southeastern coast not trying to do much at all. But it was fine for them, and it’s even more fine for this backdoor dancer who tortures his body into submissive pleasure. And mine too. It’s been on repeat and I’m stoned just enough to fantasize about trying something like this out sometime soon.

Sleeping Lessons // The Shins

I’d give anything to be riding with the windows down in Lauren’s old SUV up the hill on our way to Rich’s pond.

It was the summer of 2006 and the only direction we had was to just go. We were 18 and undeniable reckless. The back of her trunk was filled with clear, unmarked liquor bottles that were bought from some seedy New Jersey hook-up because our fake ID’s only worked for getting into bars. We’d wake up in some random bed to one of our phones ringing telling us the plans for the day. It was either swimming at some water hole in Noxen where people roamed the streets with several missing teeth, going to the drive-in with a couch and a keg in the back of J’s truck, wading in the lake from being abandoned and left for dead in the middle of the water because we had a distracted jet-ski driver, and always spending the rest of the night partying at the pond with a campfire and the moon as our only light.

This was the summer I broke up with my high school boyfriend and decided to not make plans. Lauren and I instantly gravitated towards each other because the only agenda we had was to laugh our entire day away. We’d drink beer and bbq, suntan in our dirty bikinis that we had been living in, ride quads and motorcycles with no helmets simply because we didn’t think of putting them on, do back-flips off docks while midnight, naked swimming, while drinking moonshine right out of old mason jars. It was bliss in every way you could imagine the word.

I kissed enough girls and guys that summer to count myself as a seasoned pro. I swam in dirty ponds that permanently browned my skin. My liver was shot but I was 18 and easily flexed back. I thank my strong sense of drinking even to this day on that summer because I taught my body to accept the life I was currently throwing it into. I wanted to be free by having no cares, so I found this sort of love in hot-tubs and pools, queen beds and bathrooms. It was all the same. A fast-paced blur of hot sun and breezy nights, tight skin surrounding my cheeks and stomach muscles in pain from laughing.

My current world can be found on the 7th floor in a Manhattan suite. I am surrounded by chairs and people talking incessantly on phones. There are no dull moments in my day but there is a constant hunger for something that is more carefree. I hope I can live off of pennies so that I can take a year off and go live at the beach or in some podunk town where I’ll be able to get my skin wet and glistening with spring water while getting a nice, easy high for days on end. And I hope my wish comes true with an added bonus of a close friend or lover to join me on another one of my great adventures.

I can’t sit still for any amount of time… I guess it’s my Achilles’ Heal.

(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay // Otis Redding

Why this song is the best song of all time.

It says hello as kindly as it says farewell. It isn’t the bit narcissistic but as familiar as an old story told by your grandfather. It knows when to pause and listen. It whistles while it works but it’s only job is to sit and watch the waves roll in; even they are delicate and equable. Kind eyes are the hearth and home of a vacation spot. Warm feet crush softly as they trek against gritty sand. Lips kiss crevices on shoulders that are tanned and tender. Growing old — while fitting to think as a theme — is really too far away from the present. It wants to waste indefinite time in the tide, trying hard to stay clear of focus. There is no one or nothing to miss. Why miss anything when you have the morning sun as a guide til evenin’ come?

Otis knew how to live. He let his skin adapt to the winds and measures while keeping an ongoing tempo within heartbeats. I will waste so much time on the dock that my bones will be more than rested. The dock will be my home. And if you come back ’round, maybe you’ll stay awhile too. But if I never see you again, I’ll be there with myself — hands, eyes, heart, and hips — ready. There is comfort in my heavy eyes as I write this from the floor of my dining room on my makeshift bed. And this current dock, while not the steadiest, is definitely one of the most understanding.

Be // Common

My dad is one of the wisest people I know. It reads in the crows feet that branch out from the corners of his eyes, and his salt and peppered hair is a window into his past years of hard work and constant reflection. He is a man a few wants with the main exception being that he wants to make sure everyone is taken care of. Not only within his family, but more-so in complete strangers.

Today while he was making tea I confronted him about a personal problem that had sort of been attacking my minute-by-minute thoughts. It of course was about love and life and the pursuit of whatever the fuck it is we are looking for. He sort of quietly sighed as he tends to do in his moments of lost brevity, and then while searching for the right thing to say, he came to a thought. “You know Michelle, being in your 20’s is one of the hardest ages to live. You’re at a complete loss as to what you want to do and still completely restless and hungry for life.” I always think, well, why can’t you have it all? Can’t you do things that you love in your 20’s while you’re well into your 50’s? It must be possible, but it’s funny to witness how as most people age their priorities shift. I guess it’s not that shocking as you come to, but being young and having very uncertain thoughts about what it is I want from life, I find this to be cheap. And maybe even a little too surrendering. Must life be so grown up?

I listen to Common’s “Be” when I need a reminder that I need to be right in the moment and only that moment. I don’t need to think about a future with any other person but myself because I’m the only one who is definitely going to be there, fingers crossed. I have this insatiable hunger for wanderlust and it heats up to a fever pitch when I start to get anxious. I realize that maybe it’s true what people have been saying about me. I do think too much. I’ll never stop nor will I apologize for it, but Jesus god, even my own sanity deserves a fucking lunch break.

What’s funny is they say that idle time is the Devil’s workplace. Shit gets real in this downtime. And while some people can use it to their advantage, thinkers like myself will eat themselves alive trying to tame the wild beast. Maybe I read it somewhere, but I keep thinking about taking all the shitty situations that no matter which way you try and look for the best out of them, they are still complete shit. Then I keep repeating to myself just to not fucking think about these things. If a situation is really that shitty and totally unchangeable, then what’s the point of letting it into your brain? Nothing can be done, so don’t even think about it.

Every time I’ve fallen hard in love usually has been because something beforehand made me stop fucking care. I was over it, done with it, and just ready to have fun. I wasn’t putting time into men and dating, situations that sucked or were opportunistic — I was just be’ing. Straight being. That type of life is something I could live off of for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I don’t need to worry about shitty things because who the fuck cares. I don’t need to hope for something better because what I have is fucking dope. I don’t need to sweat who I’ll be missing because the people I’m surrounded by in close quarters are my people. They have to be because they are the ones that I can make smile and make laugh and vice versa. I never need love because people are swarming around me with enough love to give all the time. Whether it’s right after a fender bender and the guy that we hit is cool as shit, telling us that if we need anything on the road to call him – he’s 15 minutes away in Jersey, – or the lady who’s in front of me in the checkout line gives me her coupons and tells me to pay it forward as I save $30 bucks. It’s small worldly wisdom’s like this that keep our world spinning.

Like Common says, I wanna be as free as the spirits of those who left. I just wanna be. Be be be be be. Don’t let me get sucked into the future or the past. It’s not important because my time is now and I plan on making the most of it. Always.

Born To Die // Lana Del Rey

Lana Del Rey.

Where your voice takes me is somewhere in a field of sunflowers running barefoot and blindly. The air is soft and my mind is in the heavens spinning in figure 8’s. I’m dying in pleasure. Every fiber of my skin tingles with thousands of nerve-endings working overtime. Buzzing, waving, swimming around in my veins are bursts of colors and radiations that only my eyes and his can see. We are lost in this eternal field, abandoned only to the bliss of this exact moment. Each second is ten-thousand rainstorms sizzling hot pavement with puddles cooling the skin of our feet. He brushes my shoulder with his finger and as soon as he leaves I go into withdrawl.

How can I live here forever I wonder. I don’t want to go but the moon is knocking on sky’s door asking to be let in, if only for a peak. I love the moon too!  but I want this day to mark the calendar every year. So I keep running with the air as my sleigh into the forbidden saga that has become my effervescent mind.

I once was called out for my philosophical questions. These thoughts were too outlandish for him. I liked him too much to tell him that that one sentence forever contaminated the secret garden I had been tending to so he didn’t have to leave. But my daydreams were starting to corrupt my reality and I had to cease all measures before they escaped forever. So as he questioned my overextended thoughts I swallowed it as a blessing for still loving him through and through.

Dr. Dog // Heart It Races

Up to the minute, the minute you’re up.

Newscasters always have really white teeth. The women in this ad are sporting the glossiest, fullest lips that look plump both top and bottom while both of the men look borderline gay; and they know it too well. Men newscasters never have nice lips I think. Jaundice cheeks stretch against big barrels of white cinder-teeth, starkly contrasting against their lack-of-lips. Gone. But you can’t just look at them without thinking what toolbags. But, framed between two hot women makes anyone second guess themselves.

And these women are gorgeous in the B-list way, but something in their eyes twinkles Slut. You can tell they are closet-deviants who like to fuck doggie style with their heads ramming against the back of a couch cushion while their mouths hang open in a slight-drool. The ironic thing is, we need fuckable women newscasters to address the nation. Like “look at me talk about terrible things happening in our world while you are eye-fucking me through my clothes”.

What color is her bra? Does she give good head?
Would she let me fuck her in my Ford Bronco?

All necessary thoughts one needs to consider while sipping hot coffee or trying to settle a very disagreeable morning wood. The kind that hurts because it is stopping you from taking a piss.

Sometimes I confuse myself with a guy. Like, all I think about is sex and fucking while living like a slobby, poor college guy pretending to be someone of significance. I probably think about whether or not I’d fuck a girl more than any dude. It’s just easier to compare women, especially pretending that I’m one of significance. I’ve had sex in enough bathrooms to realize that I’m not the go-to girl for class. Yet it’s always fun, so I try to overlook all the minor details.

The passenger to my left hates me. He may be reading this over my shoulder and guaranteed he wants to punch me in the teeth for listening to this song at least 9 times. 9 times for the past 22 minutes within a quarter’s width from a perfect stranger. My addiction to repetition falls only on music’s Park Place. Pass GO, score two points.

Nudez // Amplive (Radiohead remix)

I came across a particular sentence in my old, college philosophy textbook that read, “I know that I have a mind, an inner life of conscious experience, but the content of your mind if private and hidden from me.” It got me thinking about how honest this idea is that you can never really know the true depth’s of another’s mind unless you are of their cerebrum.

All the sleepless nights you spend awake with someone, that magnetic pull that brings your head close to someone’s chest, the way you can walk side by side and somehow your fingers just lock together — all of this seems real because you feel grounded in someone else’s mind. You think you know enough of their inner-workings to feel comfortable indulging in their secrets and in yours. More frequently than not, some of us will meet people we can grow intimate with in quick measures. Time is of the essence and our need for physicality and spiritual growth attracts us to partners and friends. And sometimes we just lose it.

I lost is several times in my life. Especially recently. I met a man who I couldn’t care less about for the longest time before finally just testing the waters. A single date led to several more conversations and times spent enjoying each other’s company. Sex was the most natural and beloved part, but what’s really to focus on if your company has a deadline. His deadline is now the same as mine, and while we both are anticipating our separate futures there are still glimpses of that anxious, nervous side we got accustomed to just fucking away. And it’s true, there is no better euphoria than spending nights in a drunken haze causing enough heat between two people to warm an entire building. But there is a big part of my brain that fights against what it really wants to know.

What’s going on in that mind of yours?

Edie Sedgiwck once told Bob Dylan that he was gonna hurt his brain with all the thinkin’ he did. And it’s true. I want to know what my last grain of hope is with the boy that’s about to leave. Is there even any hope to even consider? Am I just “in passing”… a person who needed as much as I was willing to give. Did I give enough? Am I not listening to my gut feelings or am I conceiving some fake bullshit that is also too caught up in the moment?

Alas. Tribulations of the confused, young heart. However, like water and oil, I believe everything that is separate can always make for a bloody good team. Here’s to Amplive mixing Radiohead’s “Nude”. A fantastic remix that paints a new face on an otherwise melancholy song. But we learn quick that life isn’t supposed to be as dramatic as we sometimes make it.

But it’s alright, Ma, it’s life, and life only.

Blog at WordPress.com.