Identity

What are we besides a puddle of social conditions and stimuli? what is it that makes us actually us? do we find things sexy because they really are or we are conditioned to think so....been in a contemplative mood lately. pensive as hell, thoughts meandering on the mindless terrain of obsession.

i want to create something real. i want to feel this way forever. i keep sliding back to the memories, back and forth, good and bad and remembering what could be.....

sometimes you just wonder

what
it
really
is

the
fact
that
we
are
all
here
and
doing
what


is
the
point

i
mean
really


think

really


think


for you

your

yourself

think for yourself

can

we

even

do that

i am

i am not

i am not sure.

Following the follower, sinking below

I'm so lame about this blog. Been traveling to Death Valley, SF, Salton Sea, and oh so beautiful Riverside. Shot my first experimental film with my friend. Learned a bit of dark room. Good times to be had.

i still don't know what the hell i want...what i am doing. constant push, pulls, lonely hammerings of melancholic memories.

i want to travel more, worry less.
i want more coffee and booze, but should drink tea.
I want to NEVER WORRY ABOUT MONEY.
Fucking capitalism ass rapes people, we are slaves to it.
hyper active mind fucking keep analytical booty in tact.
memories flushing out of toilets, love overflowing hearts in hands of time that passes on to each other again and again, when will the pattern end, moving towards nothing, but everything is happening, no time to think, just go, i just want to sleep a bit, maybe make some love with that guy i love so much and cocoon myself into nothingness. yes i used cocoon as a verb.

so there.