What do you see?

Alienation, isolation
Independence achieved through
Lack of motivation

When we speak, we speak of ourselves
We speak of women we sang soliloquies of seduction
Laced with lies to
To foster an urge
We speak of our new ford pickups
Only $50,000 dollars, none of which we earned

We speak of vanity of hatred of grime
The sludge seeps from our mouths
Dripping onto the dirty floor
Piling up, as we wade through the putrescence
Until we are one, indistinguishable
Mass of slugging sludge

I want not to be sludge!
Life, break me free
Punk, make me me
Folk, give me she
That girl I wish to be
For I have no identity
Save for the one inside of me
My soul lives, alone
People are foreign
People are weird
People are me
We are energy
Begging to feel
Share
Love

But how?

How do we relate when we become someone else
When we borrow style and mind
When we assume the vocal positions of our peers
And resemble each other, in an army of urban outfitter
When we see only fabric, facial structure and faux silhouettes

For I am not who you see
When you look at me
Detached from myself,
My reflection reflects nothing
Mirrors are futile-unable to reflect
Reflect: to manifest or bring back

Not to project oneself
One's passions, love, bings, ideas
Physical appearances
Mannequins walking around
Faces painted with rainbows
Is this all we are?
Is this all people see?
Reflections of our parents' disproportional noses
Buggish eyes and bowed legs
Why can't we be without?
Shedding our skins
Our thin, faded hair
And overly generous love handles

Then
Become
Human

We find our voices
We shout out our true souls
And become what we admire
We embrace each other in love



Jeffrey Lewis is so great. Some say a male version of Kimya. Not a fan of Kimya, her voice is too childish. And Jeffrey does these amazing "Complete history of.."s and released an album of all crass covers. He's got the urgency of the punk scene and the heart of a folk singer. Ugly Nerdy little Sweetheart.

HI. My name is who? My name is what?

Well, I think I want this blog to be a medley of me. I want to be a writer. And the other day my uncle told me I should start a blog. When he suggested it, I had this vision of me writing prefectly composed sentences including words and phrases people enjoy reading. And I got really excited about it and went home and vented for my first blog. Maybe that's my problem. Anywho, I want to write. About music, politics, philosophy, thoughts, urges, ideas, loves, hates, rules, anarchists, butterflies, and clouds.

"I believe God would rather have us love than be assholes."

I don't believe in the bible as a whole.

I don't believe in my biology textbook as a whole.

I don't believe what you say to me is real.

And I don't believe what I tell myself is right.

I believe there is good and there is bad in everyone.

I believe people are beautiful and love is everywhere.

We are just too busy to share it.

We are too scared to love.

Too afraid to care.

We cling to things.

To beliefs.

To reliefs.

Like parties, raves, and church.

We spend our lives distracting ourselves and running from who we are.

"People will do anything no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls"

We create new people.

Create new opinions. New ideas.

Or maybe we have no opinions and just agree.

Or just disagree.

Back to the subject.

This is for my motivation.

I am a lone ranger on this site.

And these letters are for...

For...

I guess for my uncle

and for myself.

Here's a great song by a man by the name of BLockhead. Son of a Sculptor, birthed in Manhattan. He has many different sounds and incorporates old sound clips from old films with overlaying hip-hop beats and downtempo electro influences.