lovelovelove

A movie that has changed my life, artistically and emotionally : Let the Right One In

Oh my goodness. Don't you wish your hair looked like that? I know I do.

Clothes and curves and hair oh my!

 Today I had to help decorate four hundred cupcakes like sunflowers and owls.

I never want to look at icing ever again.

Pictures from : http://www.fanpop.com/

For the Love of Bobby McGee

I long to live in the 60's, with guitar solos, beautiful girls, men who grew their hair long, micromini skirts, and round sunglasses.

Grace

Wild Hearts

they were wild girls. wild and fiery young things. they snuck out of their bedroom windows in the middle of the night to dance and make love. they had fiery hair, and thin, tanned legs, with band-aids on their knees. they flew through the night with long limbs and bleached denim wings. i was in love, in love with all of them. they were all their own stories,m they had their own lives outside of me. i was just the one that looked, i was never allowed to touch.

they swam naked in the ocean at midnight, and sprayed their lives onto local convenience. they were never caught, and i think that's why i loved them. they could get away with anything.

~

she was the silent one with fuchsia lips, ripped nylons: red hair. she painted zombies in rainbow water colours and sunbathed on her roof naked. it was her lips. she told me she wanted to kill herself. she wanted to know what hell was like.

you haven't done anything terrible, i told her.

but i am horrible. i hate the thoughts i have, she whispered.

you are wonderful, and you make everything you touch beautiful.

~

that night, i dreamt of guitar solos and purple tinted lip gloss, glitter, and her body; blood. i dreamt of her blood.

~

i never saw them in the daylight, maybe they wore disguises, i thought.

i was naive, so stupid. they were night creatures, nocturnal. their lives were magic. things that were so young; pristine beings. they didn't know death.

when i saw her body in her bed, i wanted to die too. blood. i wanted to touch her blood. i needed to have it inside of me. her wrists, stained with dry, rusty crimson blood, that matched her lips. naked. skin. taste. love. hair. her hair was red. fiery. she had been so perfect.
$

It was only two years ago when i first picked up a camera. It is incredible to think that I have gotton from here [link] to here [link] I am really proud of myself. So many times I have been frustrated with so many things that I cannot even bring myself to explain, but I used photography to push through. I cannot imagine my life to be any other way than this. I cannot remember myself without a camera at my hip. It feels like nothing before I started even matters anymore, those memories were just filler and insperation for the filler. They had little substance, even though they have shaped me so much. Nothing matters anymore it seems than taking pictures. That is all I can ever think about anymore. I live for it. I want to get better, and I need to get better for myself, I really do.

When I was younger i was naive like any child, but I did think differently. While other kids were playing with their parent's cabbage patch dolls and playing house, I was concerened with books and images that I thought were beautiful. I drew, everyday. That was what I was then. My grandmother has two binders filled with my art from when I was young. They are old and dusty now, but I think I might pull them out tonight and look at them.