I once chipped my tooth on my first trip to Vegas. It was a sky vodka bottle, blue and indestructible. The tooth is still chipped and so is my ego – so, not so sure what I learned from that. I see it in the mirror laughing back at me every now and then and I realize that it is a pure reminder of the time the bottle won. You should listen to this song and shut your mind for a minute. I’ve been writing overly dramatic poems about sexual harassment on the street and I can’t wait to print them out and bind them together to give to the men, if you want to call them men, these collections of aggressive poems to focus their attention on some words that were collectively put together for them rather than the women trying to walk by unnoticed.
These photographs have no correlation with how I’m feeling right now. They were taken last fall and I just got around to pay attention to them, like all things. They truly are an accurate depiction of what I see but time changes and so does the way my eyes view the world around me. I couldn’t tell you how I feel right now, because that too continues to constantly change. I haven’t created much these past months, but yet I feel like I’ve learned more about myself these past months than in my twenty something years prior. City will do that to you. I’ve stopped apologizing for who I am. I learned that it takes a whole lot to make me really care. I can’t muster up the energy to care about the inconsequential or that of vapid substance. That – and the amount of patience naturally instilled in me. I should seriously be awarded for something like that. There are coffee grounds in every crack and crevice. But that wasn’t meant to be a metaphor. There is this salon run by little Asian women on my street and every day that I walk by, I utter the words to myself to grab a photo of it but I never have my camera on me at those moments. I walked by the other day and the place had closed down and the little Asian women were gone and so was the photograph. Now that, that was an enormous metaphor. It wasn’t about the photograph though, I hope you got that. It makes me sad when my post cards get lost in the mail on the way to those I adore, who the hell is fucking up their one job at the post office. I’ve let Bukowski into my life and I am now saved. A boy once told me that it was bad to zone out and I pretended like I didn’t hear him. If you look up the word intoxication it has two meanings, that of which is associated with the intoxication of an alcoholic drink or a drug and the other meaning associated with an abundance of excitement or an exhilarating feeling. I’ll find any excuse to walk the long way home just to walk down a street I haven’t yet. I realized home is not even a real word. Or at least my definition of it. I find home in so many things and currently I have found haven in basil. The way it smells, the way it curls its tips, even the way it quickly goes bad. As if it doesn’t have time to wait around for you to decide if you want to keep it around or not. Humans could learn a thing or two from basil.
-Ripped straight out my janky journal.