New Blog.

I have moved, suckers. I got a tumblr instead. I felt like I needed a change and I will probably be on a different site next year. Probably not, we will see:









NEWBLOGG!
add me/send your link so I can follow along!

I am sorry.

This break is making me think a lot
and I've got things to fix and mend.
but I'm not scared about it anymore.
Well, not as much as before.
I'm working on it.
Time to be thankful and forgiving.
This hoax of holiday apparently does
have some meaning behind it.







I am sorry. I don't know what else to say.

Ottoman

Ottoman couch, how handsome your furniture
Lovelier now, but dressed for a funeral
Begging you to sit for a portrait on the wall
To hang in the dark of some parliamentary hall

Elegant clothes, you want to be seen with her
Under your tweeds you sweat like a teenager
Begging you to sit for a portrait on the wall
To hang in the dark of some parliamentary hall

Today’s for you
They laid it out for you
For you
There will be six bells a-ringing and white women singing for you
But this feels so unnatural to Peter Gabriel, too

All of the cards and all of the time it took
Soon it's all lines of red in a leather book
Begging you to wait for a minute by the door
Your creeping feet where they’ve never been before

Today’s for you
They laid it out for you
For you
There will be six bells a-ringing and white women singing for you
But this feels so unnatural Peter Gabriel, too

This song has been on my head all weekend. I can't stop thinking it.
I looked at the late autumn sky earlier today
and nothing but that was in my head.
Walking in the field with some friends
with a Vampire Weekend soundtrack playing in the background.
Even though I can't think of anything better than that, I still feel lost.
I don't know why I keep feeling that way,
but this feeling hasn't gone away since last night.

Today's for you. They laid it out for you... for you.

Leisure, Letters and Leaves.

Holiday season starts very soon and I am excited. I am generally excited for Thanksgiving. I'm not usually a big fan of the holiday because it is usually dull for me, but I am fond of it now. Not then idea of Thanksgiving itself, but the whole getting off from school thing. I have a vast amount of work to do this break, but I will get over it soon enough.

I am contemplating staying at Hofstra for the winter break and work here to obtain money/solitude/invite people over to booze up. I said it. You were thinking it.

I was thinking today that people don't write letters enough. Letters are touching to me and always hits you at a personal level compared to a text message. I miss the time of writing letters. Well you might be thinking, well Winslow, you are connected to world due to your phone, why would you miss a time of letters? Wouldn't that be hypocritical? In a way, yes, but I feel that I miss certain people and a text message/call/IM is not enough sometimes, so I want to try once more to start writing letters to people and be fully committed to it. If you interested contact me. I don't care who you are. I just want to add some words and write some letters.

I started to make a mix today. A Mostly Autumn/A Little of the Early Holidays mix. Here is what I have so far. If you want to add, comment or if you want to say anything about the selections, do tell, I want to make it great, so any comments would be cool:

In no particular order:
October Leaves - The Good Life
Campus - Vampire Weekend
Going To California - Led Zeppelin
Autumn Leaves - Miles Davis
Let Us Down Easy - Ryan Adams
Sundress - Ben Kweller
L'amour Ne Dure Pas Toujours- Feist
White Winter Hymnal - Fleet Foxes
Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? - She & Him
Re: Stacks - Bon Iver
Demo 9 - Brand New
Autumn's Child - Devendra Banhart
Wine Red - The Hush Sound
Cassius - Foals
Leaves - The Postmarks
Murder In The City - The Avett Brothers

Murder In The City

I'm still playing with the shadows. Still lost in the mystery that was. I'm still figuring out the bigger picture. Still climbing the ladder to an unknown point. I'm still figuring out the shapes. Still looking down for a helping hand. I'm still humming that same tune. Still remembering the love that is.

Halloween!

Halloween is here. Nothing more to fear.

Busy weekend ahead. Halloween festivities. Pennsylvania for the weekend. Should be a good time. Then back to lovely school, but oh wait! My classes are canceled for Monday so I have, essentially, a four day weekend. (I never have class on Friday, but will change next semester and I am saddened by that fact)

Well, I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday and weekend. I think I am!

Goodnight Good Night.

All I have to say is goodnight to a good night.





& "...Something's coming, something good,
If I can wait!
Something's coming, I don't know what it is,
But it is
Gonna be great!"

Feud.

"You aren't fooling anyone. It is so sad to watch.
Well, actually, very funny. Still a little sad.

"We are only falsehood, duplicity, contradiction;
we both conceal and disguise ourselves from ourselves."

“Yes, you are right - I am a moralist in disguise; it gets me into heaps of trouble when I go thrashing around in political questions."

“Don't tell any big lies today. Small ones can be just as effective.”

“A lie would have no sense unless the truth were felt as dangerous.”

4:11AM

body

          yearns
            for times

of

          continued
            quantities of

rest

          &
            relaxation ;


and

          they
            say a

little

          R
            & R

does

          not
            hurt anyone.





Shitty poem. Just writing to write right now.
Can't sleep for some reason.
I need this weekend and I need to
stop procrastinating.
I need to make some choices.

Kool-Aid Gang.

I want to be part of a new Kool-Aid Gang. We would catch butterflies on warm summers days, playing til the sun goes down and earth becomes cold. We would ride hot air balloons made of odd shapes and blow bubbles, hoping that they would land on our homes or our parents or our friends. We would try to fly a kite, no matter what season it was and keep running into something was in the air. We would listen carefully and make beats and rhythms to the sound of birds in the morning and crickets at night. We would play telephone and never utter obscenities, just warm thoughts and whimsical giggles. We would ride into the sunrise. Sunsets scared us. We never wanted the day to end. We would gather the leaves and make shapes of adventures on the ground we found them. We would roll down hills and climb up trees. We would recite stories and read novels under the maple trees. We would drink Kool-Aid til our hearts were content.


I want to be part of a new Kool-Aid Gang.

Halloween.

Yes. This costume is going to be wrong on so many levels.

Creative Writing, Rushmore Style.

"You guys have it real easy. I never had it like this where I grew up. But I send my kids here because the fact is you go to one of the best schools in the country: Rushmore. Now, for some of you it doesn't matter. You were born rich and you're going to stay rich. But here's my advice to the rest of you: Take dead aim on the rich boys. Get them in the crosshairs and take them down. Just remember, they can buy anything, but they can't buy backbone. Don't let them forget it. Thank you."

[L-I-F-E! What does that spell?! LIFE! What does that spell?! LIFE!]

You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder.

Confusion is the understatement of the year. We used to vacation. It sounds so smoothing. I want to sit back and wake up weeks, even years from now, brush off the trees and start right up again. Did I forget to mention that I'm confused?

October arrives.

[October arrives. The air is crisp. The leaves transform. The flowers grasp life. Sweaters appear. Light disappears. Tasks complicate. Friends bond. Relationships shake. Trees grasp life.

The sky is bright. Colors pop. Old systems form. Spirits mend. Notebooks wither. Frisbees fly. Animals die. Bikes glade. Captured light duplicate. Souls break.

October arrives. We grasp life. Spirits mend. Souls break.]


New month. Let's see what's in store.

Delighted.

Delighted. Lost. Wronged. Just. Loved. Humble. Delighted.
Heartless. Lost. Wronged. Just. Loved. Humble. Delighted.
Different. Lost. Wronged. Just. Loved. Humble. Delighted.

Thick.

I'm waking up from the dream and I'm noticing it won't be so easy this time. I have that safety net, but I can't rely on it. Defeats the purpose of a safety net, right?

I'm still figuring out some stuff and noticing little things during my travels. The air is thicker. I don't know why I used that reference, but the air is quite thick. Only way I can actually describe it. Throw me a fucking bone and let me chew on it. I'm hungry. Analyze that last sentence and tell me what you think.

Waking up is temperamental. It's like a few girls I know. One minute they are ___ and the next they are ____. You know where I am going with that. You don't need the adjectives to feel that one out. If you do, then tough luck, kid.

Oh wait, I was going somewhere with this, right? This school year is in full swing and I still don't know how to feel about it. One thing I know is that I am truly happy. I wake up wanting to go to class while complaining about going to class to everyone while secretly enjoying every minute of it. I don't know what to feel because I am a year behind in my head. I wasted last year, in more ways than one in my head and I feel stupid because I should've noticed some things in my life sooner. Why did it take me so long? Why haven't I grown enough?

It all stems from my weird point of view that plagued me for years. I will get over it. Just comes up sometimes and I wash my hands a few times hoping to get the stains out to later find out that I just brushed the surface.

Fix You

I cried last night. I was sitting, waiting for my train to come to take me back home and I cried. It was quick, painful sobs. That's the only way I can describe it. I don't know what initiated this fit of extreme emotional release at that exact moment. I sat there thinking about my troubles from the past few weeks and in the past two days, including today, I've never felt so far in a rut in my entire life. Hold the hyperbole. I speak nothing but the truth.

I'm trying to become more confident and I honestly don't know how to do that. I'm starting to get rid of the 'static' people in my life and that's working slowly. I know I can't change people at all and most people know who I like and people who I am not too fond of. Not like it really matters. It's only my opinion. If there is any misconceptions, come talk to me. I will tell you. People say blogs are just a way to lash out, but I just use it to vent because I honestly have nothing to hide. I do hide some stuff involving my family, but that's understandable and I would hide a little if I was in a relationship, but oh wait. That would mean I would have to be in one. Right. So think what you may about my this entry or any of my previous entries. If you get offended or don't agree, it doesn't really matter. At all. It's the internet.

Then I thought about everything once more and with the help of a few various good friends that have been there for me these past few weeks, I've come to the conclusion that I know what I have to do. I don't know to describe it, but I just know. I guess, I've been too afraid to admit certain things in my life and it is all coming full circle. Took you long enough, Winslow. I've got so much more to learn, but I'm going to just strive forward, because there is no where else I can go but up at this point. I have nothing to lose and I can use that to my advantage.

One more thing I noticed in my travels in the past days is that I am truly in love with the song Fix You by Coldplay. Every time I hear that song, something comes over me. Yes, that was a very cheesy line, but that's the only way I can describe what this song does to me. I almost cried again when I listen to this song on my ipod on the train, but I was in public. With a lot of drunken people on the train. The more I think about it, it wouldn't be odd if I started crying on the train that night. A late train back to my part of LI after the Yankees lose, which basically equals 'anything goes.'

New School Year. New People. New Experience. New me.
I sound like the add for the new 90210 series.
'New Drama. Same Zip Code.'
That show is going to be horrid.

"And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you"

Peur

I'm not ready and I'm scared.

cheers, mate 2

Why can't today be like this everyday? Beautiful weather and a night out with the people who make me the happiest. The people that have my back and slap me around and tell me when I am fucking up, which is a lot, but they still love me. I am terribly tired, but obviously not asleep because I am a freak, but all I can think about is the fact that is should be illegal for days like today to end. I know the buckets of emotional lame the drips from this post, but I don't care. I am happy and that feeling isn't going away. I will make it stay.

cheers, mate.

I stopped breathing at some point last night. I believe it was between James Franco's beautifully executed line diminishing the establishment and sensing the ebb and flow of the room as nerves tingled and fired up as the relief theory seemed to allow my troubles to float slowly out of my thoughts, trickling down, allowing airy substances of joy to seep into my skin, filling my body with endless possibility of happiness. I am happy. Happy as can be. I don't use the word happy much. Not trying to be melodramatic, but you don't hear everyone say that they are truly happy all the time. I feel it. I'm high on life (not weed this time), but life. I'm starting to get confident. Fuck, I am a pussy. I don't follow through with shit and I will change that. I whined at people why my life sucked and everyone knows why. You know why, Winslow. Because you let yourself be not happy with your life and yourself. Time to change that and I am making steps towards that now. New me and not that stupid bullshit I've been saying before and promising other people. Make myself happy and everything will fall into place. flkgjhjsdlgjas. I am happy and I am still freaked out that Garbage made a song for a James Bond movie. It is a beautiful ballad. Garbage and ballad. Do not compute. Also, if you want to be pen pals with me (I'm asking again), do tell me! I love writing letters and that is all.

ma tentative de jeu

Scene 1
Setting: Classroom in Suburban High School in New York. The room is filled with an assortment of students that add up to thirty students lined up in 5 rows with 6 students in each row. A Student Teacher is leaning on the windowsill of the middle window on the right side of the classroom, facing the students. Twenty year old, olive skinned Student Teacher sips Starbucks coffee as she watches the 27-year-old, Spanish History Teacher scribble notes on the board on the Ascension of Hitler to power before World War II. After completing the notes she wanted the class to copy down for the day, she wheels around and sits back down on her desk that is to the left of the chalkboard. Some of the male students pause to examine her "assets." As soon as the teacher sits down, a student in the last seat of the middle row of the classroom raises his hand and the teacher answers.

Teacher: Yes?

Student: I was pondering something.

The student is the personification of stoicism. Blank face. No emotion. He does talk with a sort of whistle at the end of his phrases.

Teacher: Yes and what's that?

Student: You hate your job a lot.

Teacher: Excuses me? (Student Teacher chokes on coffee)

Student: You didn't get into the school you wanted to because you didn't listen to your mom and didn't join an extracurricular activity and had to settle for Hartford instead of Princeton. You were too busy giving favors to the track team before meets for that kind of crap. (Student Teacher starts to walk slowly towards the Teacher.) You crash and burn a little in college and save your GPA at the end and decide to go to graduate school where you acquire the nickname “Easy Susie” with the students for sleeping with the creeper graduate professor at Ohio University. You get a job as a teacher in a inner city school and your cocaine addiction from the second year in college starts to kick in and you decide to transfer to Easy Islip for the money and you know you only got the job because of the blowjob and an article in the paper about the lack of the diversity in Long Island School Districts so they actually hired two ethnic teachers this year. So the only highs you have in this workplace are when students gawk at your knockers, when you drink your coffee that you sprinkled with coke in the morning and when you use the janitor for a quickie every other week during your lunch break. Oh, and don't even get me started on your brother molesting you for 4 years and your father knowing for 2.

A piece of chalk falls from the board and you hear every inch of the chalk as it rolls towards the desk and it is stopped by the Teacher's desk. The Teacher gets up and picks up the chalk. She turns her back to the students and starts scribbling on the board. The students watch in silence as the letters spell out, I QUIT in yellow chalk create their own sort of shine against the deep blue of the chalkboard. She quickly exits taking her coffee mug and briefcase with her.

The Student Teacher lets out a long sigh and tells them that class is dismissed to go to Lunch or Late Hall and signs passes for all the students, but the lone student stays behind, waits one second and prepares to leave.

Student Teacher: How did you know that?

Student (still walking out of the door): Just a hunch. Or A guess. I made it up.

Student Teacher: YOU MADE IT UP?!

Scene 2
Principal Office. Midday. 50 year old, Levittown-Raised Principal fixes his toupee as he scrambles through records of the Student before him. The student’s hair is down to his chest, with a beard to match, straw hat and he crosses his feet to reveal scandals. Typical day for a principal.

Principal: My, my, my. You have an impressive record. Not only do you excel in all of your classes, ranked number 2 in your class, with a plentiful amount of clubs and leadership roles, you managed to also decorate it with plethora of disciplinary offenses such as causing the Riot of '06 which resulted in the defacing of all of our school mascots, trafficking banned books into our school district, accused of giving our special Olympics athletes drug enhancers to win races and causing one of tenured Teachers to quit and become a yoga instructor in LA. You are impressive. I say this now, because, that's my job as the principal. To see that my students are achieving their goals while at my school and at my school you listen to what I say. So, do you know why you are here?

Student (while uncrossing his legs): Nope.

Principal: Not even inkling? A guess? An idea?! God Almighty!

Student: Yes?

Principal: Sorry for the language. I am just frustrated with arrogant little twits like-

Student: Yes?
Principal: Why are you saying yes? I didn't call on you on you or anything-

Student: Why, yes you did. You said my name.

Principal: No, I didn't. This file says your name is... You are a trickster, you. You think you are a wise guy, don't you?

Student: No, I don't. Will you excuse me; I've got to go back to Home Ec…

Principal: YOU WILL GO WHEN I SAY SO, YOUNG MAN! Now, do you know why you are here? You know, you ingrate. We found 35 bottles of water filled with alcohol in your locker. The janitor told a teacher that your locker reeked of alcohol. I would know that smell from anywhere. Why did you have such things in your locker?

Student: It was fun. Life should be fun. Get a hold of yourself Seymour, if you mind me calling me Seymour. Wait. I don’t care. Just because your wife is cheating on you and you cradle a bottle of whiskey every night after you come back from the bar and don't see Kathleen in your bed next to you, doesn't mean you should take it out on us.

Principal: How do… You are a menace. A menace, I tell you. I will have you expelled, I tell you. Expelled!

Student: I needed to blow this place anyway. Talk to you soon, Seymour. Your mother is going to call again. Just lie to her again and tell her you will come visit soon, but you will be too late because the cancer is already spreading

Principal: I am going to kill you.

Student: It happens.

Principal: Jesus!

Student: Yes? You rang?

Principal: Shit! Go eat shit! Leave my office and go eat shit!

Jesus: Will do.


Scene 3
Same day. Jesus and his father are driving home from school after the incident with the Principal. They are at a stoplight, waiting for children to cross as well.

Father: You must be ashamed of yourself. You have brought the ultimate shame to our family. Expelled?! What do we do now? Find another school? We've been kicked out of 3 public schools and 13 private schools already and I don't know what to do about you anymore. You have sinned.

Jesus: We all have immortal sin, Dad.

Father: Do you ever listen? Do you want to learn? Do you want to grow as person, as a functioning member of this society? Do you want to be like me? Heck, look at me. I finished high school to become a carpenter. It pays crap. I want you to better than me. You know what I could be doing now if I didn't care about you? I could be retired already, living in Cape Cod or Block Island or something, but I don't do that. I love you so much. Don't you see that? I suffer for you so you can have a better life than me. So I can grow old knowing that you can take care of your mother and I in that state. Listen to me. I tell you this because I love you. You know that. Talk to me, son.

Jesus: I know. Can you stop lecturing me, please? I'm old enough, Dad. I get lectured enough by idiots who don't know how to maintain their lives and don't know a thing about what real knowledge is. Epictetus said is best when he states that, "It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows." This world is plagued by madness and a universal feeling of settling into the mold that this is the way things are. Dad, I can't do that anymore. I can't.

Father: Come down, kid. You will be fine in time. What were you staying after for anyway?

Jesus shifts in car and does nothing but watch the clouds blanket the sky and the world transforms a few shades darker.

Father: Answer me. You might be God and all, but you are still my son and I am your father. Tell me.

Jesus turns to the window and watches a robin feed its babies in a nest. All the babies eager to ingest whatever food is given to them to guarantee survival.

Jesus (turns back): I stayed after for the debate club.

Father: Did you tell me you only stayed after for Home Ec.

Jesus: I quit that a while ago. Too boring. I went to debate once because of this hot girl in my History class and I feel in love. I become the captain after 2 weeks!

Father: How could you?

Jesus: What? It is just another club, Dad. Come down.

Father: I can't make you do it. Why am I so stupid? I am just there, aren’t I? You give him a plan. You give her a plan? Why not me? I get the bullshit, take care of everyone award. I think I got my biscuit through Holy Mail. You couldn't give him one thing that is similar? One thing that makes him mine? What did I do to deserve this?

Jesus: If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don't, they never were.

Father: You scare me sometimes, kid. In a good way.

Jesus: Dad! Watch out!

A driver who tries to beat the red light hits car on the passenger side. Fade to black. End.

Nowhere near complete, but I wanted to get this idea down before I forget it.
Tell me what you think. It would be greatly appreciated.

routine

wake at 8am
shower
brekfast
stretch
walk
snack
talk to peeps
read
lunch
mad man
movie
talk to peeps
snack
meditate
chill
dinner
chill
talk to peeps
plans?
sleep
repeat with some variations

déception finale

Disappointment sucks and I've felt it way too much this summer, I guess my whole life. There are always brighter days ahead, that's what everyone tells you when you feel that way. I know it is not the end of the world. I want to believe that I will be happier today or the day after or soon, but for right now, I don't understand my life and why it is this way. I want to know why. Jeez, I just sick of this feeling that's been drifting in and out of my life these days. I'm done planning my life out. I've stop predicting because it just worries you, but I've tried to change that stuff away from me, but what now? I look the world in a different light and nothing has changed. Nothing at all. I am at a lose. Why am I getting fucked over by people? I want to understand that, but I won't any time soon. If you have an answer, tell me because I am all ears. I am all ears to everyone and anyone. Tell me how you really feel about all this and me as a person. That is my challenge for all of my friends? But then it just looks like I am at the mercy of all of you and I don't want that. I shouldn't be talking about wants. I don't even really know what I want besides this stupid, stupid feeling to go away. This was a rant in a half. I am sorry. You probably won't read it.

très chaud

Yesterday made me refine the word hot in head. 90+ on Coney Island. I was sweating more than Bobbie Brown before a drug test. I was sweating more than a whore in church. It was so hot, I became to whore. I lived through the metaphor. I don't like my short story anymore. I am weird. I am rewriting it tonight and it will be up soon. I've been taking pictures again because my grandpa sent me a 35mm for no reason. My other one, I gave to my uncle because he needed it and now I have one again. I must read more. That's my plan for the week to come. Boring blog update. Come back later.

Catholicisme; Le Rêve Américain

I fucking hate church. I said it. Loathe it. Despise it. Everyday when I enter the square piece of shit parking lot that was "repaved" by the ‘Good’ Christians who believe they are helping a worthy cause I feel worse did I did already from waking up that early. Do they really know where their money is going? The priest probably bathes it in for all I know, but I do know they don't use it to fix up this worthless pile of bricks they call a church. But you must donate to the church or some bullshit like that. It's in the Bible or something. I could be wrong, I'm always wrong about shit like that. Trust me; I'm a Catholic.

My dad took forever to get ready this morning to go to church because he is a raging alcoholic, but when you tell him that, he says, "So Sue me. Oh, Sue. I should call her back from the other night..." My mom scoffs and smokes a cigarette in the carpeted master bedroom while she looks for something nice to wear to church. Nice means a short red dress with cleavage bigger than the state of Texas, black pumps and perfume that makes you think, "Yea, I like it in the ass." Oh, and she knows about my Dad. We have a new gardener and pool boy every week. I digress.

Where was I? Oh, yea. My dad made us late for church so we had to sit in the back. I hate sitting in the back. Church is shitty enough, but when you can't see a goddamn thing in the back and are sitting with the "rejects" it’s even worse. The “rejects”, you know, the people who get there late or haven't been to church in a while. ‘Seasonal Catholics’. Bleh. They usually occupy the last few aisles and the left middle section of the aisles with their jeans on and cell phone buzzing. Don't confuse them with child-bearing Mother Catholics. They already have stress from their 10 month year old and will kick your fucking ass if you show any sign of irritation from their baby. At least I think they would. I've always wanted to see a Seasonal Catholic versus Mother Catholic fight. It would be dope. Street rules only.

Fuck me. Not again. A boner. For some old reason, I get a choner—church boner—every fucking time after the second reading of Bible before the Hallelujah. I don't know why. It happens every fucking time. I can't even hide that shit because I'm wearing my gray church pants today. These are the only times in my life that I wish I—errr—it, was smaller. What guy would actually wish their schlong was smaller? What girl would like it small? Only if she's fucking tight. Mmm.

Ahh. Hot Seasonal about 10 o'clock. Nice ass. Shit. Come to papa. Is she... That cunt. She's laughing at me. Fuck my boner. Fuck it. The old church fumes seems to turn me on. Oh well.

Yes. Time for my break. I always go to the bathroom during or after the Homily. Sometimes to rub one out or to not listen to the bullshit priest that is talking right now. He is too monotone for my taste. Where's Father Jimmy? He is the shit. Dopest priest ever. Told me about all the shit he smoked in Vietnam. Sweet! I'm outtie. Bathroom break.

"Hey! Wait up!" Who the fuck would want to talk right now? I need to go the bathroom. Oh shit! It's hot Seasonal girl. Calm down, chroner. Fuck... and her friend. Shit. Probably could only get a number today.

"Oh hey, sweet ass," I said.

"Hi," she said giggling to her dumbass friend. Why can't she leave?

"Boring mass, right?" she said. Well, of course you dumb slut. I would so still do her.

"Yea. I need to go to the bathroom. Talk to you after mass or something?"

"Well, okay... I'm Rachel and you are?" Stop fucking giggling.

"Cole," I said while I walked down the stairs towards the bathroom.

"Hold up, Cole. Brit, I'm going to talk to him for a bit. Talk to you later?"

Brit nodded and walked back into mass. Seasonals might be useful after all. They've got to learn how to pray some how.



Much more to come.
Part of a short story I am writing.
Tell me what you think if you want.
Criticism is always welcome.

baiseur de mère, je suis malade

"Hello Kids! Today we are going to learn about the rapper, Lil' Wayne. The greatest rapper in the world. Oh wait. Kids, do you know what rap is? Oh little Johnny. Put your hand down. You don't know what rap is. You live in Connecticut. Anyway, rap is like poetry that put to a beat or rhythm. Don't confuse it with beat poetry, Little Sally, or the yuppie hipsters will be mad because they listen to beat poetry when they actually venture out of Manhattan and the little piece of land called Williamsburg, slowly drinking their local coffee shop vanilla lattes. Remember, Starbucks is so 2005. You can all be Lil' Wayne! All you little boys have to do is have a big ego, do some drugs, and compensate for your small dick with lots of jewelery. Oh and lollipops. Lots of that. Girls, just suck on lollipops. Practice makes perfect. That's what my grandmother used to say. And remember to always pop like a 50 year old type of grain, be tougher than African hair, make weird pop culture references and just acquire a venereal disease, like my old friend Mary, who we called Gonny from around my old neighbor. We told her to stop going to Harlem at night. You could get shot there, kids. Remember, always be a young moola baby and remember, Mother Fuckers, I'm ill. Not like sickly, but ill. Mr. Carter is legit."

bonne nuit et bonne chance

See Good Night and Good Luck. I saw it the year it came out and really didn't absorb it, but I just finished watching it again and it is such a powerful movie filled with courage and heart and shows how not to blame others, but ourselves for the injustices in our lives because we let things shimmer without dealing with them head on AND the movie demonstrates to us all the strength that comes with finding the truth instead of developing "...a built-in allergy to unpleasant or disturbing information" and figure out that we should "...get up off our fat surpluses and recognize that television in the main is being used to distract, delude, amuse, and insulate us, then television and those who finance it, those who look at it, and those who work at it, may see a totally different picture too late."

mes meilleurs amis

I hate quotes on blog because I believe it should be your own writing, but I need to say this. I think this describe everything about my life right now and I would like to share this with you all. I promise I won't do a stupid quote again, but this has to be shared:






"Let us take things as we find them: let us not attempt to distort them into what they are not. We cannot make facts. All our wishing cannot change them. We must use them." (John Newman)

cigarette

Everyday after school was the same. The routine never changed. I would wait patiently for the 8th period bell to ring, then staggered slowly to my rusty, old locker on the second floor to get my journal and my copy of poems I collected the night before. Then I would walk off the school property and sit down on the sidewalk right outside of school and read the first line of the first poem on top of the pile. It was Whitman today. "Among the men and women the multitude..." I would stop after the first line and wait for someone to pass. I would wait each day for that person.

She is the definition of cute. Today her hair was curly or wavy, whatever you want to call it. Her brown hair waved in the wind as she tried to fix the summer scarf around her neck. God, her legs are great. She was wearing white shorts and blue boat shoes today. I mean, really. Could you not describe a more perfect girl for me as she fixed her red blouse and tried to find something in her bag. Everyday I would see a different version of her pass me as she walked home from school. Same shit. I would read the first line. Look up. Be a creeper. Finish the poem. Walk home. My after school life in full right there.

I don't... Fuck. Is she coming over here? Did I do something wrong? I don't know. Do I look -


"Do you have a cig I can bum off you?," she said as I tried to take the situation in.

"Yes, I do."

I passed her one of the last of my cigarettes and looked for my lighter.

"I don't smoke really. Just a really bad day and I need to calm down..." she said as I watched her sit next to me and take a short puff from her fag.

"I don't have an excuse, really," I said. I had nothing else to say.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. What are you doing out here anyway?" she said.

"Just reading some poems. That's what lame angsty teenagers do, right?" I said.

She laughed and I couldn't help but smile. I am awkward, by the way. I need to stop reading into things. I made a funny. She isn't going to fall instantly in love with you, Pres.

"What are you reading, angsty teenager?" she said.

"Whitman. He was probably angsty, too. He was from Long Island. Shit, especially because he was from Huntington," I said

"I have family in Huntington. They are so nice. How could you?"

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I'm joking. They are douche bags," she said as she guffawed.

"You fooled me," I said.

"Got over it and finish your angsty poetry, kid," she said.

I finished my cigarette and put it out and started a new one. She stared aimlessly at the sky as I tried to take in this wonderful moment. I read the second line of the poem and I absorbed not an ounce of angst.

"Do you walk home?," she said as she tapped the ash off the end of her almost finished cigarette.

"I do, actually," I said. "I live three blocks from the school. With a house with a cherry door on Washington Avenue. The irony kills."

"No way! You don't live on Washington. There is no way you live a block away from me and we haven't formally met before. Hi, I'm Haley. Nice to meet you."

I shook her hand and it took me a second to actually think of a response for some reason. "Oh. Hi, I'm Preston, but people call me Pres," I said.

"I like your name. Do you read poetry often," she said.

"Not really. I've just got into it recently. I usually read novels and plays. I just finished reading A Separate Piece for like the fifth time yesterday."

"I loved the book. Everyone in my class hated that book. It was pleasant and he wasn't gay. If I hear that again! I don't know what I would do," she said.

She looked so cute when she was flustered. She checks looked as if they painted gently with rose as the base.

"My sentiments exactly," I said as we both finished our cigarettes and put them out.

"Well, Pres. I've got to call my boyfriend then go to work, so I need to start walking now. Wanna come along?," she said.

"Sure," I said. Of course someone this great has a boyfriend. How stupid of me to believe I had a chance. This always happens. Her boyfriend better be amazing. Shit.

"Tell me more about Whitman. We can be angsty teenagers together next time and maybe read him together if I start liking him," she said.

We walked. I talked. She listened.

rien

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Every time I try that, I get nothing.

panda

Music comes in all shapes and sizes. Some come with years of acquired rust and patience that sing chords that flow through the ages. Others come from a talented young 17 year old from Arizona whose music crackles and pops, something some veterans are still trying to achieve.

Panda Steps In Chocolate, 17 year old Christian Michael Filardo's music project, explores a genre that thrives on whimsical orchestration, short and precise lyrics and an abundant amount of heart that shines bravely through each note of this album. You are convinced that you've heard this electronic dribble before, but you haven't heard something quite like this. The airy chords and notes empower Christian's chameleon like voice which echoes inspiration from the Unicorns and The Magnetic Fields. This kid can sing; you don't get that everyday.

"You can't spell slaughter without laughter." Those words, in the song CHK CHKA SCARED PRIEST, usher in the beginning of the album and give you an inkling on where this album is going. Each song on the album explores a different sub group of electronic greatness from more melodic lines to repetition of words to dance-filled beats to displays of designed harmonies. The album reaches its zenith, Panda Meets a Girl, with the perfect display of the album's ability to show a large of quantity of musical style in about 3 minutes.

Even though the consistency of the album might not appeal some of you, you will be missing out on something if you don't give this album a good listen. You will find yourself falling in love with the album's ability to stick in your head and bring you into a wonderful fantasy of electronic greatness. Watch out for Mr. Filardo. He's got something to show this world and you've got to be ready.




DOWNLOAD AND CHECK OUT ALBUM: HERE!
MYSPACE: HERE!

I am starting to actually write letters to people. Want to be a pen pal? I think it would be super cool if that happened. Comment this blog if you are interested or talk to me on aim (xylophonekiddd)!

pilotez un cerf-volant sur votre plage

I want to know the age in which
I stopped liking Toy R US anymore.

I want to know the age in which
I started to think my parents could get annoying.

I want to know the age in which
I started to love reading again.

I want to know the age in which
I stopped listening to certain music.

I want to know the age in which
I stopped trying to catch the first firefly of the summer.

I want to know the age in which
I started thinking that High School was a waste.

I want to know the age in which
I started to defy the things I thought were truths.

I want to know the period in time
before sex could mean nothing.

I want to remember the times in my old house.

I want to know the age in which
I stopped being afraid of the dark.

I want to know the age when
I started to flirt.

I want to remember the time in which
I fell in love with a book for the first time.

I want to remember the time
I started to ride my bike.

I want to find a time when people are
completely honest which each other.

All things that were in my head last night as I went for a walk. At 2 AM. Why can I never sleep? I think too much. I went for a walk. It's not like I am sad or anything. I just can't stop thinking. That's who I am as a person. I wanted to ride a bike. I need to buy one very soon. I need that feeling back. Riding a bike is such a great feeling. So after my walk, I took a very long shower and then just lay wake in my bed for a few minutes thinking about all the statements above.

I drifted off to sleep and had a wonderful dream. I was on a beach and I saw a kite down the beach a little and went for it. I said, what the heck, let's fly it. So I ran until I got the kite in the sky. I stayed there for a while, taking in the calmness of the waves and the gently breeze on my face. I was at peace. I decided to stop and when I has finished, I turned around and all my best friends were there. It was weird. It instantly became night and we chilled around a bonfire, talked and laughed until we had to go home. I woke up right after we said goodbye and I walked down the beach away from them. Great dream.

jours brumeux

The air was dripping with an unsettling haze that blanketed the blocks and street corners in my path, not aiding to the condition I was in. Three dimensional images transformed instantly into two dimensional figures in the map in the back of my head, tracing diligently the steps I must take to a home bound journey. A leaf brushed my check as it began its descend to the uneven pavement under my feet. I had a good night. I had a good day. If a good day means not meeting up with good friend and getting fucked over by some of your other friends, then I would say this day was splendid. B-E-A-UTIL even. My day was fucking golden and I changed my condition not to think about. I'm writing not to think about it. But, I'm a content. I can't lie about that. I've got the next fucking day to worry about. No time contemplating the strength of some of my relationships. No time deciding on why I fucking should never be my a phone when you are fucked up. No time figuring out why I feel so lost in my life right now, but I am content. I will not worry about it. I got it all out, right? No? Okay, maybe I didn't. It was worth a try and it's steps in the right direction, so maybe I feel crappy right now. I'll get over. Everyone does and maybe people will fucking notice that I'm trying to be above that. Above this particular boundary I was setting for myself. That is letting every goddamn thing get to me. Little things still irk me, but I'm not going to let it get the best of me. The grass was moist as I stumbled to the ground. Fresh is the word I thought of as my face meet the vegetation. Just one last hooray and you are in your house, Winslow. Five more minutes, I said, to the writer's voice in my head.

blocs

Lazy days drown my worries in a sea of prospects and optimism. I did so little and accomplished so much today, as if my mundane activities destroyed the weights that propelled me into sadness these past days, trickling down into an abyss. I'm feeling lighter as the hours go on.

Did you play with Legos when you were a child? Arranging the blocks into arbitrary shapes, wishing that the connection would stay strong as you augment your structure into the tower of your dreams. Mind you, you already have an adventure cooked up in that little head of yours for this tower and the assorted Lego people that you could find. What if the world was made of Legos? Never imagined that? A world where each entity was comprised of individual blocks put together to make a human. Or a tree. Or your bike. Or the annoying dog down the road. Or money. Or civilizations and building galore.

It's just a silly idea that's always been in my head. I think it could work. A world built together with tiny blocks. At least we could see when people actually break apart at the seams or crumble under pressure.

la vie de mesure

I climbed a tree the other day. First time I've ever done so. Never did it while I was younger. Shit, I've never even flown a kite let alone climb a goddamn tree, but I did it. While I was preached precariously between two branches, I surveyed the area. Just mundane activities sprinkled across the suburban roadway. Children playing tag. Fathers washing cars. People moving to and fro and in that moment, I knew it would never be the same. It meaning how I see myself. It meaning my family. It meaning my friends. It meaning what I know is right. Shit, I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to fall, as if a passing breeze would sweep me up and float me gently into the grass. That's not happening. So I gingerly climbed down the tree, and plopped down on and lied down on the grass. I stared up into the leaves of the comforting tree and played war with the clouds above. Giving meaning to even the most minute feature in the cloud's image, perpetuating my thoughts into deeper fields of imagination. Then I thought, shut the fuck up Winslow. Life is too fucking short to waste your time with the "what-ifs." Why the fuck do I keep measuring life? If I want something so badly, do something about it. Then I rolled over and napped on the front lawn and was awaken by the sprinkler my dad put on. Yes, he has sense of humor and yes, I was pissed. Needless to say, I did try to take something out of my actions today. Winslow, be fucking you and stop measuring life so goddamn much.

Oh and who wants to fly a kite soon because I've never done it before?!

arbres et pensées

I've been addicted to Aqualung today. Very odd for me. Today was also a slow day, but promising. I was sitting on my front lawn, listening on my ipod and layed down on the grass and just stared at the trees as I listened to music as my brother played around me. In that moment, I thought about my friendships, family and my future. I saw how my life is fucked up and great at the same time. I've never wanted to cry and be happy at the same time in my entire life. A surreal moment indeed.

colibri

I couldn't sleep last night. Nothing felt good about the moments before my body would shutdown. My mind wandered aimlessly, bamboozling any indication of rest in my future. Each fiber in my body felt weighed down by some immaterial combatant, coercing me to lay wake in my bed. Frustration settled in my mind because I could not wrap around the feeling that plagued me at the moment, stopping me from drifting softly into some kind of tranquility. Was it loneliness? Doubts? Self Awareness? I did not know.

One image kept floating into my thoughts. The life of a hummingbird seemed beautiful and simple to me. Vibrant feathers, doused in bright colors, depict the image of the minuscule bird, adding to its outstanding impression in this world. The job of a hummingbird displays how something, ever so simple, can contribute to a wide range of organisms. Your job, let us say getting nectar from a flower, shows the great magnitude of just one thing becoming very important, such as the promoting of seed distribution. It is a thing I believe everyone strives for. They strive for a niche in society that lets you find yourself and send small shock waves in the world. The bigger, the better.

Another thing about the tiny bird that compelled was the speed in which life is for them. Their wings flap at outrageous speed and their hearts tick at an alarming rate, but how else should you be living life? Waiting on something as your life is swimming in lethargy, not embracing the minute time we have on this Earth? In the grand scheme, I suppose?

So as my pugnacious thoughts lay wage in the battlefield that is my mind, I hold onto the very thought that I will find that niche, destroy the veil of bewilderment that impairs my life. I want to find a beautiful, simple role I must be in.

It seems like I am living the perfect imperfect life, but maybe I don't know what is really going on or what to say or feel. As I woke up this morning, my senses taking in the freshness of the day, I wondered what I should be doing with my life and I was still pondering the battles that keep me up the night before. I still don't know what this feeling is, but what else is there to do, but to live life and see what comes up.

buts obtenir

New goals for the summer:

1. LOSE WEIGHT! MUST DO!
2. Learn Harmonica and/or Guitar.
3. Do well in my summer classes.
4. Get a motherfucking job, son. I need some bills.
5. Read as much as possible.
6. Watch great movies as much a possible.
7. Be more risky with my love life.
8. Fucking find myself a little.
9. Get a bike.
10. Get a camera.

That is all.

(+)(-)

Lazy day today. Father's Day was cool to a degree. Chilled and watched soccer with my dad. Always a good day if you can watch some good soccer. I'm sorry to the nth degree. The person who I'm saying this to knows who. I made a cake today for my dad. Making cakes is very relaxing. I don't know why. During the day, I was putting on my music and seeing if my brothers liked it or not. My littlest brother, Henry, loves to dance to Justice, Vampire Weekend and N.E.R.D already. Now he loves to dance, his silly dances, to Born Ruffians and Battles. He is 6. He is amazing and pwns you all. Sleep time. I need it!

(+)(+)(+)

Amazing, fantastic day. I don't even know how to put it in words right now. Great fucking people: Henry, Becky, Rachel and Nico watching two great acts play at the summer stage at Central Park. It started to pour, but we did not falter. We stuck it out and experienced a Woodstock-esque whirlwind of rain, great music, dancing, and friends. I would never take this day back. Shit, that's how a great day with true friendship feels. I'm truly glad.

The show: The show was amazing. Born Ruffians were great. Check them out. The drummer is my hero and they have a great lead singer. Kid Sister sucked but she had awesome dancers and she is very striking. Vampire Weekend was everything I wanted from them for a live show and more. They started with Mansard Roof and ended with my favorite song, Walcott. GREATNESS.

I'm still looking! I will find something!

(+)(-)

Weird night. That's the best way of putting it, but I did realize a lot tonight. These ideas in my head are things I knew were there, but I didn't want to admit to quite yet, but I have to. It's over. In more ways than one. I tried. I really did, but there is a difference between things that can't be changed about someone and things that are always there and you seem to be afraid to change or don't want to change. It's not good to dwell. I learned that in many ways this week. So I keep on moving. Still trying to find myself and what I love in this so called life of ours. I might not find what I'm looking for, but I know damn well that I'm gonna keep looking until I've found something.

heureux

It is 4:35am and I have not slept yet. I need to learn how to sleep at regular times. I have been on a Wes Anderson movie kick today. I watched the Darjeeling Limited and The Royal Tenenbaums. I noticed that I would be Jason Schwartzman in Darjeeling and Luke Wilson if I had to be one of the Tenenbaums. If you saw the movies, you would know why. I want to make a movie is beautiful as the Royal Tenenbaums.

I downloaded music, watched movies, had fun and made it to page 26 in Stranger. I think it was a good day. I finally have no regrets for the past days and the situations that occured. I wish I could like everything go, but that's not happening any time soon.

Happy Birthday, Kristina.

Listen to: Anything by The Virgins.

5:25am, anniversaire

It is 5:25am. I haven't slept yet and I have an Anthropology exam at 8 am. What is wrong with me? I might need some medical help soon or to learn not to think as much. You know why life fucking sucks at this point? I love how now that I figured out who I am and who I want to associate myself with, I realize I don't fucking know what makes me happy anymore. Every time I get even one step closer to finding it, it gets taken away by some force. I don't know why it happens, but I've got to figure out what makes me truly happy and I don't think I'm going to find it. Grr. Very frustrating.

I have a silver piggy bank. I've been staring at it for a few minutes now and I still wonder: Why the fuck do I have a silver piggy bank? I've started the book, Stranger, 4390835 times and I can't get past page one. I am not in the mood to read that book or any book these days. Isn't that weird? I have lost the will to sit down and read something new and freshing. That's disturbing. I hope that feeling goes away.

I was so fucking fickle today. Had class, slept in it. First time I've ever slept in a college class. kgsdkhasd. Don't want to think about it. Then lunch then stuff then sleep then here I am. I was tired, then super happy, then feeling sorry for myself, then saying fuck off to the world. I am awkward. I say awkward like ackward and I should learn how to speak well.

I want to travel. Very badly. No money or time for that. That's pretty amazing.

I want to live a more interesting life. I was thinking the other day that my life would make a pretty boring slash basic book. Nothing too exciting, literary devices like irony and satire would be in it. I would be loved by very few, a boy would rip out a page and use it to throw away his gum one day. That's why I have to be a writer. Write about other people's lives and stories, but aren't all good writers supposed to use experience from their lives to make their writing more than just words on a page? Therefore, I'm going to have a boring book no matter what? I don't know what that means.

Enough of this rant. I'm going to listen to Vampire Weekend and feel good.

Listen to: Campus by Vampire Weekend

p.s. Happy Birthday Phil, Megan and Kristina, the day after.
[I care about them. Kind of. Sort of.] =]
hope your days are filled with phantasmagoria.
your day might looks shitty, like mine,
but at the end, the friends that matter
will always be there for you.
It's your birfday! Shit!

vidangé

Drained. That's the best way of explaining my life right now.
Goddamn, I wish you would just say it. Shit! I don't know.

Listen to: Viva La Vida by Coldplay
[I listened to this song 25 times yesterday]

ville natale

To Do List for Today:

1. Read Descartes for class.
(I like him now. Weird shit.)

2. Review Chapters 1, 2, 4 & 5 for Anthropology.
(I really enjoy this class. Minor?)

3. Read some more of The Stranger by Albert Camus.
(I've never read it. I feel deprived.)

4. Make email for BAR.
(The people I talked to know.)

5. Find two new bands to fall in love with.
(Vampire Weekend and Born Ruffians on repeat are enough.)

6. Find a good movie to watch tomorrow after class.
(I want to see a good one!)

7. Watch Weeds online.

8. Do some scholarships.

Listen to: Hometown Glory by Adele. she's got a dope voice.

ralentissement

I need to slow down. Life and I are in a race and I'm losing and I even cheated! Take tomorrow to breathe, Winns. You've got hell of a weekend to deal with. M.I.A on Friday night, Birthday Weekend begins on Saturday. My DOB is 6789. I noticed that a few years ago and it is a pleasant surprise. I love certain things about me like my DOB and name which is pretty epic.

Other things about me... not so much!

Listen to: Paper Planes by M.I.A

récompenses de mTV

There is something wrong with the world if Transformers
wins Best Movie at ANY award ceremony.

I feel like shit, man.

I watched the mtv movie awards.
I have hit a new low.

six mots deux

I need to be optimistic. My friends love me and they will always be there for me. "fuck bitches. by myself once again" is my motto for the night. I guess my six words are

friendship lives and breathes with me
or woes die young, growth lives on
or learned a lot. gained a friend.
or life comes with some assembly required

i don't know. I am useless.

six mots

You know what the best feeling in the world is? When you find people that whenever you see them you seem to be overwhelmed with the sense that no other moment than this will make you happier. Fuck this. I can't write. Just fucking tell me. Who am I kidding?

I feel like shit. I had an amazing day and I feel like complete crap. Every moment of this day from the reading the book to the nap to the funny card ride to the rendezvous with an old friend to the hipster haiku, to the awkwardness to the lounging around to flower eating to the new phones to the side streets to the blackberries to the friends was great. What's wrong with me? There were things bothering me and I didn't want them to bring me down, but they are now.

There was a moment I wanted to capture, but nothing happened.

I should go to sleep. I sleep late every night and I can't do that tomorrow night. I want another six words in my life. I live an imperfect perfect life. I keep wishing and I get screwed. Fuck me and fuck this feeling.

I hate being fucked over. I don't know what I am seeing, but who cares? Maybe I'll start acting the part. I shouldn't be writing or posting or whatever. Fuck you for reading my shit and putting an expectation about me with it. Stop thinking shit about me. Fuck you.

I'm off to sleep and
you should listen to
some coldplay because
that helps me sleep.

fuck bitches. by myself once again.

those are my six worlds, kids.
go make it an away message.

embrasser

     Kiss. I don't even know how this happened. Kiss. Her lips soft, supple lips brushed my check and every nerve in my body seemed to charge from the very particles between me and her. Kiss. Pause.

     "Fired up?" she said as she sat up. Hellz fucking yea I wanted to say, but only a faint "yes" fell from my lips as if the words weren't able to escape from my mind to my lips.

     "Had a good time tonight?" she said as she crossed her legs and looked up me with urgency.

     "Yes. Splendid night." Who the fuck says splendid? I am a dumbass. Example A why you can't keep a girl for more than a second, kid.

     "Me too." Her smile made my mind melt for a second and I shifted a little in the leather couch we found ourselves in.

     "So?" I said without thinking. Thanks for making it awkward again, buddy.

     "Yes?" Yes? I got nothing. Why did I say so? What the fuck is wrong with me? Think. You like her. You really like her. You've liked her for months now, ever since you saw her in the school bookstore. You like everything about her. She is perfect. Why am I fucking up right now? She asked you to kiss her. She took her to the other room. She kissed you first after a few awkward seconds. She made you feel amazing. It wasn't you for once. Do something. Anything.

     "I...I..." Nothing. "I...I...like..." You are fucking up. Say something.

     "I like you, Winslow." She fucking said it?! I didn't have to say... "And I know you like me. I never thanked you for picking out the book for me in the beginning of the semester. It became one of my favorite books. Every time I think of that book, I think of that kind guy who helped me find it. You can say something now. You look like you just saw a ghost or something. Do I have two heads or something?"

     Wow. I am agog. Now. Don't. Fuck. Up.

     "I'm...speechless. I just didn't think a girl so sweet and beautiful and..."

     Kiss. Wow. Now that's a kiss. Everything about this felt right. For once.

     "...I got to go soon," I said as stopped for second. I am dumb.

     "Shut up, Winslow. You've got time for one more kiss."


I know the format is weird and shit, but I needed to write that down. It was in my mind.

Listen to: Anything by Modest Mouse because it was playing in the background through the whole time I was typing. lol.

J'ai besoin d'un peu de repos et relaxation.

A few days to myself will be good for me.
I will go out, if you want to,
but I just need to think deeply for a few days.

I need to bring you back. I need to find myself.
Any up for a day trip? I need to get out of LI.

tort.

It was wrong of me to tell. I am sorry. Fuck, sorry. It's just a word. I will prove myself again.

honnêteté

grow up! this seems to be a common motif this summer
and speak up. someone's got to start doing it.

Listen to: Everybody Nose by N.E.R.D

obscurité.

The room was bathed in darkness. Light pierced through the dimness, making objects more visible, more suitable for the naked eye. The computer screen glowed, dousing the ever so beautiful, silent darkness just enough for me to formulate my thoughts from brain to visible light. Levers and gauges churned in my mind as I tried usher some wavelength of thought. Some tangible essence of how I felt about this very moment. The room was hushed except for the uneven clicking of my vintage keyboard.

I am wordless when it comes to how I feel at this point in my life. I am tacit. All I know is that I have to find myself again. You probably all think this is a silly phase I am going through, but that's an example way I do have to change myself. Stop with the stigma! I'm not one to talk, because I do it as well, but I'm trying to stop. I'm trying to coerce myself into the right direction. Find a new path and hey, I'm done putting the burden on myself. That's my problem. I will just be me and if some of you don't notice, I'm fine it. Before, I would think too deeply into why you haven't noticed, but why should I? It's not my lose anymore. People come and go and only a few people will appreciate you for being you. Few people will be honest with you and that's how life works. I'm sick of thinking that I have to change people. I can't do it. It was dumb of me to even think that, but I will try to find a person that I truly love inside and out this summer and if people don't want to put in the effort to see me as me or try to hang out with me, its not my problem. I am not the one at fault. You are.

Happy Birthday, Becky. You are truly one of the best friends I have ever had. Fuck off with your comments because you are thinking it right now. Hope you have a wonderful day, Becky.


Listen to: She & Him
(Anything by them.
I will always remember when you helped me with that review.)

aveugle.

I have made a few steps in the right direction.

I have to stop being insecure. It will be my downfall.

I tell myself I am going to be truly honest from now on,

but I get worried about people's reaction when the truth comes up.

I can't keep doing that anymore. I have to be honest.

Not that,

sarcastic-that's-how-Winslow-deals-emotions-besides-happy honest,

but complete honesty. Completely blind, filled with no biased opinions

and maybe I will be happier with myself and other people if I am that way.

It is worth a try because I really have been an emotional roller coaster

this past month and people have realized it.

I'm doing it to myself and I have to stop.

This is the last time I am saying that I have to change.

If I fall behind, someone please punch me a few times or just tell me.

On that note, I am upset for the sheer fact that everyone has

this preconceived notion about me.

Everyone has this image in their head about what I am supposed to be

and if I get of the regular formula that is me,

I am at fault and that's not fair at all.

I need to break out of that this summer.

I will change. I promise you that.

But in this case, I'm not the only one

that has to re evaluate some things.

trois.

Summer come now. Summer come now. Summer come now.

Hope is what I got.

"The sudden disappointment of a hope leaves a scar which the ultimate fulfillment of that hope never entirely removes."

-Thomas Hardy

poinçon.

One punch. Goddamn that hurt. The pain surged from my stomach, sparking violently through the delicate nerves in my body and I collapse to my knees. The weakness in my body and spirit overwhelm me in this moment and all I can think of is how to make the pain stop. I want to throw the pain into a pit and watch it fall for my own enjoyment. Stop. Get up. It doesn't hurt that much. Keep telling yourself that. Get up, Winslow. Get the fuck up.

There you go. Stand your ground. Fuck me. Why does it hurt so much. I have a false sense of safety in my mind. I can't be hurt. I am the amicable, friendly, witty guy that everyone loves. Why would I warrant anything to give me this much pain? Shut up. Stop thinking for once in your life, goddamnit. Stand your ground. I am silly for thinking that my wit wouldn't get me in trouble at some point in my life. Some, fuck, times I hide behind my words and don't take it in. Why are you such an idiot? Fuck!

I can't hear a thing. The murmur and noise of the world slowly dim down to a small hum. That was another punch. Fuck me, a cough, I'm bleeding. I would never think that in my wildest dreams that I would be in a fight long enough for me to be bleeding. FUCK, I'm bleeding. I'm not pugnacious. I'm not violent. Why me? Stop thinking. Fuck. Get up, Winslow. Oh my God, I can't do this. I can't see a thing. If I close my eyes long enough, it will all go away. The hum will go away, the pain will go away and I will be safe again.

No. I will get through this. Get up. Don't be fucking weak. You can dish it out, Winns, but you can't take it. Get up. Please. Open your eyes. Feel the earth in your hands and use your legs and get up. Spit out the bleed, kid and get up. Fuck! Get up!

That's it. You're up. Time for a knock out.

Fuck me. They hit me with another one.

jump. die. over. under.

Jump. Jump. Dive. Dive.

Over. Over. Under. Under.

One last chance. One last jump into something new. My last shot at something redeemable. My last pass at the goal, but I won't. I will dive into the same old waters. Float endlessly into the sea of, not tranquility, but stability. A fake stability. A false rendering of what is normal and what I am capable of. I have settled. I am weak and should leap and say something. I am captured in photos as a shell of consciousness, a spirit with gray and bleak innards trying to float back to the surface of what is perceived as great and I should be trying to spring into a new life.

I can't say that is it over. It's not at all. It's not over because I am not the only way that been laying in the dark and waiting for someone to save me. You, yes, you are not over that bar set for you and everyone sees it. You are so silly. I wanted to see how worked up you would get. Do you understand how silly that is. You are getting angry over something that isn't even directly about you and it was said over the internet. This is exactly the reaction I expected and everyone else did. Don't be full of yourself here. If you want to keep playing the game, we can and we will. I never lose my ammo. I am overstocked. You still aren't over it. If you didn't believe a shred of that, you wouldn't be all work up over broad generalizations. 

So you are probably guessing how I could incorporate under. I don't have to. You already did.

casser.

"I lost the game."

NO ONE IS ABOVE THE GAME.

ours.

Sarcastic rant, go:

"I love bears. Who wouldn't? Like, I heard from someone that liking bears is such a good thing. It was definitely off someone's trendy blog, but honestly, my friend Sue has been IN LOVE with bears for years and I thought it would be nice of me to join in with the cause. Like, I heard that like some bears are dying in some third world country. Somewhere in Africa, I bet. Or like the Mid East. We should, like, stop because the bombs we make kill the bears. But anyway, I got this cute bear logo t-shirt from the thrift store by me and I can't like wait to wear it with my off white, J. Crew cardigan, my cut off jeans I made myself (I sewed myself), and my super cute yellow flats. Some of my flats are so weird because they fit my feet so badly. My friend Sue like hates toe cleavage. If you don't know what that is, then you shouldn't be wearing flats and she knows like everything. We are like so hippies together. We are like in the "issues-aware" club on campus and it's like uber fun. But like aren't bears like adorable? I saw one on tv once and I've always wanted a bear. Even though the show was a cartoon, but it was soooo cute. Come on. Like then I started making mix tapes with like all the bear-related bands like Minus the Bear. Well, like then I got bored and I put on like some nice folk rock because that's what everyone is doing. Get with the program. OMG, I love blogging and people seeing how I talk and feel. I feel like so honored when like my friends read my blog and get to see more into me, like really deep. I should so write an entry about bears. So trendy. I am on the verge of something new. Bears are totally legit. Obvi. Forreal."

There was a...

...certain stillness as I walked back to my home tonight. As I traveled slowly through the rows of automobiles, I could hear the faint essence of flourishing parties, females talking among them, and the sweet white voice produced by the birds on campus, a regular event of a spring night succumbing to the freshness of a new day. Precipitation met my face, washing away the memories achieved tonight. I was centered. Each step closer to my dorm seemed to be losing its mass. The lighter steps propelled me farther to balancing myself as I reached the front of my dormitory.

The usual suspects stalked the entrance of my dormitory: Drunken students, particles and smells of cigarettes in the air and cheap, overhead lighting. Oh, did I forget to say that it reeked of bad decisions afoot? Oh, yea. That's just assumed. After that, everything became a blur. Sliding door. Stairs. Look for keys. Open door. Get undressed. Bed. And now I am here. Writing and reminiscing of how great walk can be at times.

Listen to: Fix You by Coldplay

10 seconds

I remember I used to like rainy days. When I was much younger, rain brought about itmany possibilities. If the rain wasn't very heavy, my grandma would sit on the porch of our old, wooden house and watch my brother and I play in the rain. She gave us the 10 second rule. She would count out 10 seconds as we spent our time absorbing the freshness and tranquility that the rain brings. She would sometimes use halves, such as 2 1/2 or 1 3/4, if she knew we were enjoying ourselves.

This rainy day isn't the same. I am in my twin, rusty, bed-frame bed and I am just laying there. Hoping that time would go along in minute increments or I wish time would just dissipate, forging space for me to just lay. Not to think. Just comfortably settle into a sense of nothing. Not a care in the world. Not a thing to fret upon. No haphazard involvement. The systems and orders of my life find an equilibrium and are forced not to plague me in this instant. This moment in which up is up and down is down and a bed is a bed, and there's not else to be concerned with.

It doesn't work like that. I am still that man in the bed, waiting for the something to happen. The same man that should start to appreciate what he has and just accept things for what they are, but he can't. Some transparent force in him, some intangible aurora in him drives him off course into the road of stupidity, solitude and uncertainty. He doesn't know who to turn to and when he does, he feels like he is just a lost puppy. He doesn't want to feel like he is always the one that needs aid. He loves the help, but doesn't understand why he is doing this to himself. Why is he lost? Why is he being like this? He doesn't want the attention. He wants to understand him and find out who he is and bring that to its full potent.

He can't change myself. He can't. But, he can decide to change. I changed subject about 338783 times in this stupid prose. Why is he becoming an English Professor? Maybe, I can still enjoy the day. I just want a friend, some rain and 10 seconds to make myself feel tranquil again. Get the fuck out of your bed, kid.

list

My goals for the summer:

1. Get a job or two.

2. Learn how to play the guitar.

3. Develop a new style for myself.

(This one only makes sense to me in my head.)

4. Get a bike, preferably a beach cruiser

and ride around everywhere.

5. Lose weight.

6. Travel to at least 5 states.

7. Read more the "classics" this summer.

8. Write something everyday.

9. Start a photo project for myself to complete.

(I have a few ideas already, but I would like input!)

10. Meet as many new people as I can.

11. Be more aggressive in my love life.

12. Trust people more.

Why do I have such a sinking feeling about this summer? I know I will pretty busy with stuff my stuff, but I feel like nothing exciting will happen on its own accord. I don't know how to explain it, but I just don't want to the summer and people to disappoint me and it will probably happen. I hate this stupid feeling. Feelings don't ever go away. Feelings stay until something triggers you to feel something else. I need that something. Come on! I just need some spice for the summer.

BTW Vampire Weekend. Free show. Central Park. A week after my birthday. I AM IN HEAVEN. and they are playing with Kid Sister and that's awesome. I am going to M.I.A, VW now, probably Cold War Kids, at least the Pitchfork Festival or the All Points West festival. I am going to as many cheap/good/free shows as possible and I am excited about that stuff. 

Some other stuff... not so much.

Time for sleep.

Listen to: dkjsfljhlfszhljhdgzkj (analyze that. and listen)

paper planes

I am a bad friend. I should tell people what I feel with them. I like thing brew in me. I feel so lost without being able to say something about it. I over analyze everything. Why do I let that take over everything in my life. I cross examine every action and character in my life and because of that, I think I become way too judgmental. That is my problem. I don't think I am perfect in anyway because I am one of the most insecure people out there, but I do judge and I am sorry I don't tell you. I really am, but its not that easy.

I am sorry that I can't take off the standards I have some people. I am sorry that I keep everything on file in my head. I am sorry I have been such a whinny bitch recently. I am sorry that I'm not being the friend, the down to earth person I used to be. I have changed a lot. I am high right now. That is one change that has happened to me. I still don't know how to take it in, but I like it. 

I am also sorry that you have so many stigmas about you. I am sorry some of you can't see the errors of your ways. I may be this or that, but you still got deal with yourself because some of you are like a train wreck. You can't turn your head, but its so horrible to watch. I am sorry I can't trust you anymore. I am sorry you try way too hard to be someone you aren't. I am sorry, but I am not the only culprit of wrongdoings.

I am happy that summer is so near. I don't want to spend it with certain people. I want to travel and see what people will actually write. I have a problem with some of my friends. I have to always start the conversation and why can't they? Why can't they see that it is a little fucked? Why can't they see that it fucking hurts to see it happen all the time and you know it will happen again and you see it happening in front of your eyes? I just don't know.

I am rambling, but I need to leave. 

Somewhere. Nice. Quiet. 

For a day. Or a week.

Or a month.

I want

to kiss

someone

again.

I am 

being an

emo asshole.

Look at me.

I am sad. 

I am 

pathetic.

Sorry.

Fuck me.

yep. sleep.

NO VWLS

IM A LST AND IM NT WHT  TO DO WTH MY LFE ANYMRE. 

IM NT SRE IF I SHLD MJOR IN ENGLSH OR TRNSFR TO ANTHR SCHOOL. 

I WLL FGRE IT OUT, BT I HTE THE IN BTWEEN TIMES. 

LSTN TO: FLTHD BY THE FRTLLS

long walk.

I took a walk today.

I said everything that was on my mind.

Some out loud to myself,

others in my head

And I felt better.

Much better.

I'm a wreck right now.

I have become, in a way, everything I hate. I was letting things get to me. Little things and I've just been a whiny bitch for the past few months because I don't want to deal with my problems and I want to get advice and help with someone else when I'm doing all this to myself. It is immature. Very immature. I realize that. I also realize that, even though I was reaching out for people, only a very few actually cared to take a few moments of their time to see what's up. I'm being ridiculous and I've got to stop doing this to myself. I will or it will be the death of me.

I can't wait until the summer. These days of great weather reminds me of the care free times that I miss ever so much. I can't wait to go back home and just chill. I want to take hold of the time I have of the summer. I want to travel very badly. I have a goal to make it to all 50 states before I die and stay there without using a hotel and stay with a friend or in a car or something like that. It is ambitious goal, but I want to try it. I need to read more and write me. I don't think my abilities in the English Language are that great at all, so I need to work on it. I don't want one boring moment this summer. I can have lazy days. Just not boring days. There is a HUGE difference. 

I am in Angels in America and the show opens in two days. We still have so much work to do, but I am excited. To the fullest. And nervous. Dramatic plays make nervous. I am never nervous about musicals and stuff. It just happens for me, but I am nervous about my performance in a couple of days AND sad it will end. I loved everything about working on this play. So much fun and so much growth. 

Listen to: Hella Nervous!!! by Gravy Train 

LMFAO. Best song EVER.

absurd. happy. spring.

I want to thank my best friends for caring about me and making me feel better when I'm being irrational. They gave me a new light on what I was feeling and made it better for me. It's not an instant switch from sad to happy, but it's definitely a turn for the better on my part.

I am silly for not noticing that I was digging myself into oblivion. I need that hit in the head and I got something. We discussed absurdism to a degree in one of my class and it made me think about a lot of stuff in my class. The structure of absurd-ist play is that the beginning of the play is similar to the end of the play. There is change, but the characters don't seem to get out of this cycle. We talked about how when you ask someone the question, "How are you doing?" people rarely tell you how they are really feeling. 9 out 10 times, you will get a generic answer like good or alright. The point that made me think is that absurdism brings up the idea that people try to avoid to expose themselves to other people and impose themselves on other people. I have been doing that. I've been avoiding certain issues and going through the cycles. I have to stop. That is one of my biggest issues. I am addicted to the status quo. At least I am admitting to it.

Next time you ask me something, I will give you a straight forward answer and not have "nothing conversation" that there is a need to find a connection in the conversation when there really isn't. I will try not to go through the motions anymore.

Today was a beautiful day. I love Spring. I can read outside. The best feeling in the world. Read a book or play in the shade of a tree and take in the world. My kind of day. I want to thank some of my friends for listening and giving me the best advice ever. Thank you Henry and Kris for caring and coming up to me. Thanks Becky for listening and going on a walk today.

And you, I tried. We will see.

Listen to: Razor by Head Automatica.

think. think. think.

What is wrong with me? In the past two weeks, I have gotten angry twice. I don't get angry. I'm not trying to embellish anything at all, but I don't like getting angry or being angry. Before my emotions become anger, it becomes something else for me like sadness, or jealousy or bewilderment, but I've gotten truly angry twice in the past two weeks. Enough so, that I wanted to just push a wall or something or someone. I think it is awful. I think about my actions and thoughts too much for me to be so impulsive to think I want to punch something. It is sophomoric and other synonyms of that word. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

I've been having this same feeling over and over in my head these past days. I've been having the feeling that I need to get something off my chest, but there isn't a way of doing it. I am being hypocritical because I pride myself in being blunt, honest, more synonyms, but the things that are really bothering me, I feel, will really hurt the people closest to me. It's not them really, but what they represent in the grand scheme that is me. These issues I have aren't anything different from the regular person in this world, but I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know why I get so upset about certain things. I am weak? Yes. I wish I could do something about it or tell someone everything. Every last detail and not be afraid that they have judged me.

That won't happen so I'm not going to dwell on it, but I can't stop dwelling on it. I am me. I am Winslow. I think about every single detail that comes into my life. I over think everything and read into people's actions accordingly. I might have to break the conclusions that I have in my mind about people because they aren't "predictable" but they really are. I just wish some people would break the conclusion for me. Go over the expectation I have of them because I do think highly of most of my friends but people are "predictable." That's my real problem. I'm probably predictable too, I just wish people could give me a challenge and I will try to go past it. That's what I am left with. Do it. Ask and I try to receive and send something right back atcha. I promise. Make a step. I am putting myself out there for people to read and see, so say something back.

Give me a place to say what I got to say and someone to listen. That will be best present anyone could give me to. I need that now. I don't care that this comes out emotional, because it is and if you don't like it, then don't read it, but my main point is that I wish I could express myself without hurting everyone around me. Worse would be if I told them, and nothing happened. That would kill me inside. I've got to think.


Listen to: A Poor Man's Memory by Explosion in the Sky