sleepless nights, the road and the scale.

i'm back on track. which means days without sleeping, traveling like a madman, living on the internet and keeping myself so busy i can't think about the pit in my brain. the road has an interesting effect on people, emphasizing the individuals state of dependence and almost all other attributes with the stress of getting things done in an unfamiliar place.

i don't think i could live in a relaxed manner. i thrive on mania.

none of this is as pretty as i pretend to be.

(doesn't my phone takes damn fine pictures? it infrequently works as a phone, but the camera function is exceptional.)

public image.

it's sort of insane how some people live almost entirely in their head or on the internet. myself included. i like to think i have a grip on what being responsible and respectful despite emotions entails though. i like to think i've got goals and values and i actively work towards or for them.

sometimes i wish i was outspoken enough...


to even truly defend myself.

psy·cho·so·mat·ic

–adjective

1. of or pertaining to a physical disorder that is caused by or notably influenced by emotional factors.

2. pertaining to or involving both the mind and the body.

running uphill.

someone i worked with interrogated me as to why i am the way i am, why i look the way i do, essentially why i am myself.

they implied that my life seemed an uphill struggle and from our conversation said they could tell it had been mostly that. they also couldn't believe i was doing what i do at my age, so spontaneously and "recklessly."

i think i have an answer.


some people are born with a flat meadow laid out before them, to stroll.
some, small hills to mount and rejoice.
others are given a path of boulders to stumble upon.
still others awaken to life to find peaks the size of everest staring them in the face.

i do not claim to know which of these i am, hardly. feelings and personal vendettas leave me far too unbiased to make such an assertion.

what is clear to me, is that it is not the path laid before an individual that determines the outcome of their existence and the mettle of their being, rather the method in which they approach it. seeking true success and happiness makes any path a running course, and any life a marathon.

some just have to run uphill.

lewd sobriety, and the scales.

i have been escaping to alternate realities in my dreams: ones in which i am a male, ones in which i am invisible due to my plainness, ones in which i am nothing: just a presence, ones in which i am myself, just in a much easier situation, ones in which my skin is purple. waking up is sometimes violent, but normally just delayed and drawn out, as i try to grasp the last pieces of the alternate me and cram it into my brain, thinking it will give me more dimension of perception.

selfless kindness will generally do nothing but get you taken advantage of, when it it all breaks down. there is no tally system, there is no keeping track unless both parties are going at it for less soulful reasons.

but i'll keep wasting time, money, and effort on people who think of me only in passing, because i do love them despite whatever flaws they may exhibit. and i want them to be happy, more than anything.

even if that happiness doesn't involve me in the least.





i do really need to stop subconsciously thinking in terms of payback, it's simply a disease inflicted by growing up in america.

and the cause, i think, of the majority of bickering here.

waking up some more.

with kess and jackie by jon mmmayhem.

this is why i love my life.


big fat note to self:
set aside atleast 5 hours a week to create.
(sew, paint, take pictures)
and atleast 5 to read.


i feel brain dead. i haven't sewn anything, painted anything awesome, or made anything i'm truly proud of since i moved to philly. i haven't been thinking of concepts for shoots correctly even.

stimulation is necessary at this point. fitting it in admist the hustle is the trick.