passing up things.


is it laziness? is it insecurity? is it fear? is it just plain stupidity? it's the latter. and then some. why do i passed up doing things that i know i'm gonna fucking love. i'm stupid. it's ok. i went and got groceries. i needed them, so i guess it worked out. what ever....

fuuuuuuuuuck...

it's been a while. shit. a while.

we'll see






should i invite or shouldn't i. should i go or shouldn't i.

the lame bus

just pulled in. but not really. i dont know. i have the next two days off and i have plans for them both, but i really just want to work. i want to be making money. tennis, panini's & poker, laundry, gallery hopping, seeing old friends, possible bar hopping. it all sounds fun and all. but above all it's the endless amount of time to think and be with my thoughts that i want to avoid. i dont like having that. and yes, i get not wanting to be alone with my thoughts isn't a good thing. work keeps me busy and not able to think about life. this is why i like to pick up shifts. besides the money.

thismorningandrightnow

soon


Paul McCarthy's Low Life Slow Life: Part 2 «
Presented by CCA Wattis Institute
January 27–May 30

San Francisco campus
1111 Eighth Street
Wattis Institute
Reception: Tues., Jan. 27, 6-8 p.m.


lets all be square and seen up in there.

lovelove

not so much right now. though.

ambition


strive.

let's get quiltin'






is it bad to take someone else's amazing work and make something out of it for yourself. if so, i dont care. sorry tauba auerbach & christopher baird, but i wants me some fucking amazing quilts and you ain't gonna make 'em for me. cute warmth in the winter.

this afternoon

but it's okay. his phone was dead. he sent me a message. he said sorry.

everyone i know

i shouldn't start.

there's a Symphony in my stomach



for the past two days my stomach has been a orchestra of sounds. burnnnnnnt. furrrrmmmmp. pssstp. blurbp. urnnnnnnnnd. not farts. just fucking sounds. nothing poots out. just echoes inside. it's not really fun in social settings. i'm afraid that if i just try to push out the air i'm gonna toot out my fucking skeleton. this isn't fun.

i'm gay.

The moment I saw him smile,
I knew he was just my style,
My only regret is we've never met,
Though I dream of him all the while.

But he doesn't know I exist,
No matter how I may persist,
So it's clear to see there's no hope for me,
Though I live at 5135 Kensington Avenue
And he lives at 5133.

How can I ignore
The boy next door?
I love him more than I can say.
Doesn't try to please me, doesn't even tease me,
And he never sees me glance his way.

And though I'm heart-sore
The boy next door affection for me won't display,
I just adore him, so I can't ignore him,
The boy next door.

I just adore him, so I can't ignore him,
The boy next door.

this is not about you

sky. color.





i wish i could print these as strips on t shirts. i wish every time i closed my eyes this is what i saw. i wish the families living room that my bedroom window looks in on looked like this.

dear edith

jade ebony & ivory

spontaneity donuts closed galleries crossing the bridge 10 minutes for a quarter crazy emotions sleepy face butt slaps constant jokes bride toll parking fee chai milk bread burritos early rising long lines locked doors never ending story dogs neglecting original plans freeway entrance freeway exits not stopping for stop signs magical babies cute puppies fantastic moments posters of shows i didn't go to mural in the city with your name on it awesome book about boats cool magazine for a dollar journal with copper plate from a musty guy not really caring about the plans stopping through showing up after the fact staying fifteen minutes making noise with your eyes closed and strangers enjoying life dog slob dog love life love fun love tennis rackets for juniors cute fucking sofas teal piano ugly people. today and always, hopefully.

wed nes day


but only pizza instead.

hi......................there!

Dear bfg_,

We are sorry to inform you that the profile you created on ___________ has been denied due to the following reason:

  • Content includes unclear or unrecognized language or words.

little bird.

what are you doing in there.

shit.!

it's twelve 30?! gotta go to bed. not wanting to wake up early tomorrow to hang out with friends. not wanting to be awake either to deal with the current frustration and envy. i'm gonna go read. my knee hurts. it feels like it's trying to bend it self all crooked and shit. i'm looking forward to sunday. and wednesday. and the 25th. and tomorrow. i'm rambling. i'm busying my brain. i'm distracting my thoughts. i'm avioding the now and always of my thinking cycle. i'm bitter. but not super mean. i wish to lay in my bed and close my eyes and instantly fall asleep. i wish my wishes came true. not so much this one, but the one i only ever make.

first time. last night.



thanks bryan. i promise no more stubby shots. no more tapping the ball. pure follow through strokes. aim for the ball behind the ball. and all that other shit straight dudes say.

i wants it!


even though i dont really drink. i could keep it full of arnold palmer, though. plastic pocket flask!

no reason

loneliness is my game.

i own that shit, so back the fuck off. go find something else to claim, fucker.

t up, baby!


foggy windows and laugh fits and voluntary silence and more.

starting tomorrow @


basebasebase.
Open for Making : A Residency for Creativity