best weekend ever or best weekend ever?

the birth of our twenty minute hug

scarlet sidwell: I'd still be down to shake hands.
omar romero: Sure, why not
scarlet sidwell: Alright. At exactly 6:38.
omar romero: NO
omar romero: Really?
omar romero: shit
scarlet sidwell: Is that good for you? We can reschedule.
omar romero: I guess it's ok
scarlet sidwell: What do your 7:54's look like?
omar romero: Filled with hugs
omar romero: sorry
omar romero: I got a bus full of kids coming through
omar romero: They're low on hugs
scarlet sidwell: WHAT ABOUT THIS KID, HUH?
omar romero: I thought I was going to shake your hand.
scarlet sidwell: WHERE DO I FIT IN TO YOUR 7:54'S?!?
omar romero: Maybe a glance. The hugs are draining
omar romero: Be my 7:56 and I'll give you a hug that will take up my 7:56-8:00s
scarlet sidwell: I'm gonna need more of a commitment than that.
omar romero: HOW LONG OF A HUG DO YOU WANT
scarlet sidwell: At LEAST until we leave to go to the movie.
omar romero: SO`HOW LONG WILL THAT BE
scarlet sidwell: 7:56-9:45
omar romero: I don't think monet will have much fun watching us hug each other
omar romero: 20 minute long hug?
omar romero: Can we compromise?
scarlet sidwell: Fine.
omar romero: Pick the time.
scarlet sidwell: You can clock out at 8:10.
omar romero: We're doing this ok
scarlet sidwell: Okay.
omar romero: I hope you're into it as much as me
omar romero: Give it your all
scarlet sidwell: I was just thinking the same thing.
scarlet sidwell: We should separate and then act like we haven't seen eachother in a really long time. Like a picking you up from the airport after ten years of separation hug.

opening omar

whoa mar, r, black tar, mason jar. tan pants, sexy dance, roundabout, happy shout! swim, dip, run, drip. laugh, laugh, laugh, slip, ow, hurt, fell in the dirt, help me up, kiss my cut. blood, blood, wipe up blood, band-aids do what band-aids does. fells better, bad weather, huddle together, makes things better. i feel better, do you feel better? i know you don't, but it's best you lie, dear. kiss, kiss, tiny lips, she's got no idea that i feel like this. silly silly, feelings, pity, ditty, doodle, dumb, dumb, idiot. omar fun dip, hand slip, table top puddle drip. whipped cream sandwich. lonely loving, friends and hugging, forty-seven brown bears lugging berries to bury, winters coming. warm hands, cold hands, doesn't matter cos they're your hands. groups of guppies swimming upstream, doesn't matter what their life means. piddle diddle, peanut brittle, eat it up, get your fill. something tells me somethings pretty, i can't see it, but it's fitting. tiny bugs circle crumbs, sweep them up, end their lives without knowing you did it. silly human, silly living. omar romero, hasn't a care-oh. drifting mind, subtract zero, arctic tundra super hero. swing gently, ice is melting, feelings deepen, kiss her, leave me. dancing, prancing, spectacular acting, hold on tight and please stop asking. plot line thickens, weakness, wheat thins. weird things, weird times, weird wine, drunk time. say goodbye, she won't cry, you think it's time you ought to die. little sparrow, flying scared, oh, you don't know where you're going. bomb the moon, worthwhile wound. we'll be finding water soon, I promise you. hold your palms to your ears, forget what I'm saying. dancing, dreaming, find some feeling. find a life worth living. ringing, ringing, constant ringing. brought on by shrill, disgusting singing. signs tell me something's bringing slow death, deal with it. slow rain drops, stop, hop a scotch. drink some scotch, drown yourself and rot and rot, and cry and cry and laugh sometimes. nothings worth anything in the long run. so hold yr lover, say you love her. fuck and die, and fucking feel it. smear, fear, feeling weird. weight, wait, huge mistake, mistook him for someone sane. pain, pain, window pane, sitting, looking, can't complain. fucking shouting, sounds deranged. pitter patter, nothings changed. change they say, will lead the way, to nothing really. barefoot feet, walking on pebbles and coals and trees, and branches, and broken things. broken me, broken sea, he broke the seams, it seems, I mean, he's mean, but he means it, at least I know he means it. he tells me that he needs me, no one needs me, but people need things. my things, your things, bad things, drug things, love things, not me, wait, what? what? oh, I don't know. I'll just sit here, watch the wind blow. blown, blue, lively loo. I'm so damn sick of this tv show. cold feet, cold head, bed head, well read, wear red, worn out, old house, water spout. spout lies, someone dies, we all die. desperate darling, snarling, showing teeth. bare breast, hands to chest, demolished darling. dearest lover, yearns to hug her, feel her, know her, he wants her. to love her. fear and fever, hot headed brother, had her once and lust took over. and over, and over, and over, and over, but she felt he was below her, it blew over. things move fast but they go nowhere.

my laugh is immortal

i've finally pulled myself out of that stupid hole. im actually appreciating other peoples presence. i've even made some effort to go see them. needless to say, life is fab. however, i continue to rot in between the weekends at home. which is usually yours truly dragging his hairy knuckles through the internet looking for the next band that can give him a boner. so far, i've had good luck but i can feel my eyes straining harder and harder. of course, i'm scared of it. my dreams are a huge reflection of my fear of losing my sight. always hazy, foggy, unclear, without color. i feel a lot better though. i dont cry as often as i used to. ive stopped eating my feelings. ive let go of those episodes of deflated postures and gloomy gazes while i continue to create dermatological havoc with all the amounts of spicy food i love and enjoy. it's only a matter of time until people actually start finding me sexy. also, the other day i enjoyed a hazy, wobbly but entertaining evening with four pals. we went ice skating and its safe to say that we probably impressed some people out there. actually fuck that, we went fucking plastic skating and whatever genius thought we would be able to skate over that should reevaluate their life. i was so mad that i eventually figured i should fall on my knee already so i could limp for the rest of the night. the wrong knee brought to you by monet riceroni. she's one of those pals i have. no resentment being held but one would think so by how much i bring it up. i tend to bring up a lot of things that shouldn't be brought up. i don't even mind the three hour bus rides it takes to get to them each week. the bus ride, while soul crushing at times, only makes me feel impatient. what really breaks my balls is having to ride all the way back home to orange county. either way, effortless loyalty and admiration exists for these people. i hope i never come home. repeating. for infinity.

breaching breann

jolly walk, woke and talk, dance dance, in her pants, gentle rain, sang her pain, dance dance, threw her pants, spiteful rain, felt her wane, hair wear, made it fair, gentle time, bending fine, watch a leaf, paint your teef, slender toes, forget your woes, strong embrace, break your face, thunder throat, body boat, breann, billowy man, mend a hand, chased some land, jumped a fridge, ate a bridge, fought the earth, got a fever, fell in bed, took her cleaver, kept it close, fought a ghost, won and laughed, took a train, to escape the stain, fell apart, took the art, took a tree, made it free, ate her weight in monster juice, crushed a wall with a ball and made the stains feel very small, wobbly feet, hope we meet, stands on her head, bleeds out lead, would rather pump the veins with grain instead, the lumps and bumps of the sores instead fill your life with grief and holes well fed, holes where eyes should really be but nothings better than to see you flee, catch a fish and watch it twitch, watch it rot, die. die die. the way they move makes my insects croon, back and forth, their sharp legs sting, watching my eyes fall in love with their king, fit the masks, ignore my tasks, i am afraid, ive lost my mind, ive strained my connections, shes constantly wavering, beat my head, feel my legs rip to shreds, the senseless, the senseless, my minds spent, its senseless, im senseless, lonely hunter, fondly wants her, ink spreads, life ends, frigid body, frail and shoddy, feel the wheel tumble over your heel, cracked your limb, obeyed your whim, in this hole there lies a foal, it removes your soul and turns it into coal, scaredy cat, broken laps, ugly house, little house, copy house, same same same, suburban sprawl, is all, is all, precious body, young and bloody, felt the cord, wrapped your arm around the sword, because i will not be ignored, tumbled silently in the body as i felt what fed me turn against me, wrap your finger around my neck, watch it wobble and contort, the passing of oxygen slipping thin, no wonder he keeps his thoughts within, a slow mumble, falls and stumble, short wit, will never quit, guard the wall, make sure it wont fall, embody their fear and let it smear, friend lack, fanny packs, wedlock, ankle sock, finding mines in the highest of grass, breaking skulls of the densest mass, find a loop, on a stoop, cutting corners and eating soup, losing words inside the spleens, embodying young human beans, false machine and old canteens, skipping through the sand below, trying hard to make it show, trying hard to let her know, this world becomes an ugly place when you find yourself in love with mace, fitful fervor along the surface of your nape. gentle ringing through the tunnels of your shape heavy sighs, crooked thighs, soft smooth lies, laughing hives, stealing wives, alternating strokes as you stifle and choke, the tumble of your words as the giggles spill, the rumble your chest as the feelings fill, money honey, we have none, honey money, i want some, bound to be unwound, found and not sound, furry little legs, jumping twenty kegs, slow dripping candle, skin peeling handle, twenty minute hug, fifty ideal bugs, try and remember, recall and dismember, your head, its dead!! your head! its dead. dead, mulched in lead, fed to bread, lets spend our afternoons, laughing at some scared balloons, chasing zebras to and fro, wondering where livers go, dancing in the parking lot, trying hard to not get caught, worrying will only get you about two feet from your front step. dont trip, bloody finger foods, muddy interludes. going out of my way, to try and feel okay, to thin my blood with intention, to force all of their attention, to spill my guts, to tell him so, youre great youre great youre great, you make, you make you make you make, i feel, i feel, i feel, i wont be able to say this again, i dont feel like such a nobody, i feel, i feel, despondent mother lying on the bathroom floor, worried kid feeling oh so sore, worried kid wondering what the knife is for, worried child wishing she hadnt seen anymore, worried kid has some friends to adore. youre great, i think i, i, i, you didnt pick up but thats okay, hort and sweet, tainted meat, my new treat, i have a question about your balance and how you can carry all that baggage, i hope its not rude to ask this but i want to make sure i can manage, because id carry it all on my back and make the soft spots of my heel crack, my maw on your paw, hope it doesnt appall, youre my ideal friend, right till the very end, you've already ruined me once, hope youve got insurance, and when it happened the change was swift, the change made me lift, and the change made me spill and the change makes me fill my whole body up with regret, and ill let it roll around inside, and it will probably never subside, and ill keep chasing you because i know where you're broken and ill keep trying to reveal the things unspoken, can we go back to that, is that ok, is that fine, do you mind, am i saying too much, i still remember your touch, i dont know, i dont, i really dont, and i wont

in this world i am bound to ramble.

i am now going to introduce or possibly refresh your memory to some of the music i have surrounded myself with for the past couple of years. i am constantly searching for more. i would probably say its the only ambition if i've ever held onto for a long period of time. maybe the only one i've ever known. hope you find something that opens you.

this is a band called have a nice life. two people are involved. one is tim macuga and the other is dan barrett. their first full length was released in 08. the song in the player is called i dont love. the beginning is so serene. the melody, contagious. but then you are hit with this wall of sound. the entire song plays through with little variation in the vocals. the double album was hand made and self released. get one! anyway, enough jibber jabber. here it is.


this next musician comes from the south. john cohen helped uncover this guy along with tons of other traditional artists. roscoe holcomb is his name. the song is called i am a man of constant sorrow. you may have heard it on oh brother where art thou. it was first recorded by dick burnett who was a blind fiddler. the creator of the song, i believe, is disputed. i am not sure. gooble it or something. roscoe had a number of a capella songs each equally as haunting and depressing. the term 'high, lonesome sound' was coined by john cohen himself and its a pretty good description of the music made by this man. he has another recording of him singing an old church hymn. the turning of a page can be heard on the recording indicating he probably improvised the song. awesome. he also plays banjo, guitar, and a harmonica in his other songs. give this song a try.


this next band is raein. they're from italy and just recently toured the east and midwest regions of the united states. great band. they reunited after a break and recorded a new album which sounds fantastic. some of them are also in another band called la quiete. there are three guitarists in this band, i think. the last time i saw a video of them it was their set at fluff fest but i have no clue whether that's true either way. the band, while being loud and abrasive, weave some pretty melodies in and out of the song. i love the way they end the track with what sounds like a call and response between the vocalist and another member of the band. very dancey. oh so dancey. i hope you love it. this song is called parte 2 and its off an ep.


pygmylush!!!!!!! made one of the most relaxing albums that i've heard yet. this is a live video. the clarity of the audio surprises me. the song is beautiful. words have been escaping me lately so ill save you the torture and just tell you to listen to it and also to go buy mount hope. this song is off bitter river i believe.


more to come.

I'd rather be sleeping.

I can't convince anyone. They give up on me or they run past me. I present to everyone a wall of shivering limbs and muscles. Muscles around the lips and eyes that avoid contact with others. Quivering. Imbibing the fears and dislikes of the ones I admire and respect. Internalizing them. A disgusting self-defense mechanism. I'm the silver sinewy piece of growth pushing pieces of bile out from it's mouth. Synchronizing every piece and motion with a different beat. Stringy and frail. I'm the syncopated sinew treading slowly over water. Scared of it's home. Scared of the new. Scared of the familiar. (I'd rather be sleeping/I'd rather run away from myself). I lean on anyone I can.

the Photographic Dictionary

http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/home.htm (birthday)

I really liked this idea for a photography project. A website comprised of photos from many photographers who all try to embody or create a sense of the word they are using. I have come to find many that replicate the exact feeling I get from a certain word. I seem to be attracted to ones describing exhaustion or deprivation. Those are my favorites. I enjoy the style of the majority of the people on there. Take a look and stuff.

Get'n Over My Disappointing Self

(via leslie miles)

I figured eventually I was going to post something that came from my own mind. Feelings and stuff. I still haven't seen her and I think I'll make the bus ride very soon.

Today I reached into an envelope. It contained money given to me by my grandmother for living to see another year and for going through another year of sparse visits from her grandson. For making it another year so that I can once again let everyone down.The money was pressed along the insides of the envelope. It was consciously laid flat to prevent any bends. It held four bills, two twenties and two five dollar bills. Moments before that, my mother had spoke to me about her recent illness. She had been struck with bells palsy and half of her face might never smile at me again. The envelope was handed to my parents during her stay in the hospital. As I opened the envelope, the sight of the money made me shudder. I didn't know what else to do than to cry. The money was an obvious sign of her economic situation. An amount of money that I do not need at all. She never neglects to remind me that she loves me. I hope she does not feel ashamed or small. The shame only hangs around my neck. Thank you, Soledad.