<3

You look for love in the ends of the earth. You search for it in a kiss, in a hand, in a letter. You yearn for it at night and wonder all the time where this magnificent love may be hidden. Perhaps it is beneath the biggest tree, or behind the most precious of eyes. Maybe you hold the key and observe the world to find its accompanying lock. The love is of course within you. It will always be inside of you waiting to come out, expectant and patient. It fills you up when you're passionate and excited, it's what makes you sad during loss and regret. I've expressed many times my beliefs about love. This is a particular subject that I have always been curious about. Many books have landed on my hands, many pages in front of my eyes, many pictures and looks of complete fulfillment. Songs, poems, and real life stories. All of them about love. A specific song that may come to mind is one that says, "it is the many that know how to want, but the few that know how to love." It's true, we are always chasing after what we want, what we think we want, to go the extra mile to achieve and receive. But the journey is long and only the few ever make it there, to love. When you love, you don't give anything away. You simply share what you have. It doesn't run out or empty, it is simply rejected or accepted by whomever you decide to share it with. In this particular case, I have to say that I feel so much love for this person. This great great person. Who has shared with me so much of their time, their efforts, and their love. I don't have to look for who to share my love and life with. Because it will always be in the hands of a friend. My very best friend, Mitchiko Khem.

BLAH

I'm a noodle, and so are my doodles. We all collectively rise from the pits of imagination and strive with the breathe of ludicrous reasoning. Where else are they and I to go? Let me staple it down, well, I'm not much of an anything and neither are they. So we all have lunch together and talk about absolutely nothing. I sit around with my sharpie and pens and pencils and let's face it, what comes out isn't magnificent or even worthy of the word 'art'. What comes out however, is sufficient enough to sustain my hungry curiosity. What would it look like if this, and what would that look like if there? I'm not an artist. I will never see myself as an artist, but geez I can at least say I have the mind of one, or the potential to be one if I were good enough. Now now, this isn't a pity speech or anything. I'm not waiting for anyone to say that I'm good. What I am trying to say is, if I am ever going to chase the dream of becoming an artist from my unconscious and make it a reality, I would have a very very long way to go. Maybe I should just stick to sitting in front of the computer all day.

Avery is usually right

woo im anahi: where is our place in the world?
averyjaffe: i think we can only know what those things are once we're doing them

and even then, it may take some time afterwards we look back, and see that in retrospect, we made our place

averyjaffe: because often times the answer is right in front of us, and it's only when we get so far past it, that we can look behind us that we realize when and where the catalyst was
averyjaffe: in the events that shape and change our lives, there's no real "a-ha!" moment. the more fitting and somewhat poetic reality is that it takes time for us to realize what goes on in the present
averyjaffe : we really only find out the cause of things after they've happened.
averyjaffe : that's what I think, anyway.
averyjaffe : why do you ask?
woo im anahi : because i knew your answer what going to be extraordinary

MY

favorite thing about night is how it holds you. How the faintest of lights flickers a bright orange in between the silhouette of stirring trees. I can only help but notice that I talk to stop myself from thinking. That the silence I let surround me on occasions only furthers the continuation of my most indecent feelings. The feelings of being lost in this huge world of darkness. The feeling of looking for the orange light to flicker at the end of my thoughts. After I let the quiet do as it pleases, all I want to do is sleep and walk and think. I feel different all the time.

fat-pie

Let me tell you about David Firth. His website is fat-pie.com and I swear I've seen every cartoon he's made. This guy is amazing, he's talented, and he's a fucking lunatic. He's the creator of the salad fingers series and if you haven't seen that, you're missing out on a creepy looking green guy with salad fingers no less. This is an example of one of my favorites. Anyway, this is Alan; the alternative superhero. This one portrays a great message and I hope you get to see it all the way through ^__^

Oh and P.S.
Aphex Twin makes the music. Isn't it great? A crazy cartoonist in conjunction with Aphex Twin is bound to make a difference in the world.

this

always makes me smile<3

woot

The summer is almost over. Actually, that's not what I'm excited about. I'm excited about playing solitaire and watching this little sucker pop up. Well, as much as this summer has been fun and dandy, it hasn't. I never have anything to do or say or fly towards. I'm not sure, let's make the rest of the summer last, let's pilot a plane, take care of children, let's play all the world's existing boardgames in a day, let's achieve something, let's create something, let's make each other costumes, let's stand on the corner and play music, let's photograph humanity, let's explore. I don't know, there's endless possibilities!!! Too many nights of dreaming and not enough of getting things done. Haha, not in that way.

listening

to my mother drunk singing her favorite melancholic love songs from the 70s makes me love her. It also makes me think of things that are much greater than the power of just sitting here waiting for something. I'm hopefully going to learn something between now and the age of 52. Something wonderful. I love you.

you know

i was always like this and no one noticed. I used to lose myself all the time in the corners of my room, pacing. I was always frustrated, and I was always bent on escaping. The problem was that it never changed. Those are the fundamental pillars of my chaos. The fact that I never changed and let all the reality simmer at the bottom of my soul.

no one

cares

I met you at the inside of a crowded room...

we shuffled our feet and sat there awkwardly. I was at the point of suggesting a faint topic up for possible discussion, but you said you had to go and you walked away from where I sat. The rest of the night was possibly hopeless. All I could remember afterward were a couple of dangling lights and the ceiling fan. That prominent ceiling fan with all its omnipotence staring down at the room. It probably thought to itself "Damn those people. Those people who know nothing. Those people who know they know nothing and care not for what they lack. The power they could hold within their grubby fingers, yet they sustain a nonchalant airiness." Then someone's grubby index finger turns it on, refraining it from further commentaries. I sigh, deeply aware of the smoke that dangled heavily from the posts of people scattered about. I breathe in all their fumes, I suffocate in it, and I fall deeper still.