“August brings into sharp focus
and to a furious boil, everything I’ve been listening to
in the late spring and summer”
Everything feels like its ending, but also like everything has just begun. Uncharacteristically, I wish summer was three months longer. And yet, here we are. August.
All my flaws and all my happiness seemed to be weaved together. I’ve never been my happiest when I felt perfect. I’ve been my happiest when I felt flawed and loved and true to myself. No, this is not a speech about beauty, or about how everyone is beautiful and everyone is perfect. Frankly, I don’t believe that at all. I believe that beauty and perfection or rather our versions of those things, are much less important than we make them out to be. You see the one thing that we all have in common is not that we are beautiful or even that we are all human, but that we all have emotion. To my little Taurus mind, beauty is something I see everywhere and I see it in pain. I’ve never thought my friends were more beautiful than when they cried on my shoulder. That might sound sadistic but I promise you it’s not. The pain is not what is beautiful but rather the raw emotion that manifests itself in those moments. That paper-thin venire of false face is brushed away and all that’s there is you. simple, sad, Beautiful. So don’t be afraid of it, reality is valuable.
fire, lungs, August
Hot wind sun
life’s now ending
Two visions blurring
We long for water
rain to come
but into focus
there’s only one
Thing that I
can seem to sea,
drowning feels like
fire to me.
I’ve been carrying around this art journal since January and I finally filled the darn thing up. People change, that’s what they say, but I think id rather say I’m growing than I’m changing. When someone says “you’ve changed…” they don’t usually mean that complimentary. Even if it is true that all people “change” and yes we need to all realize that, I’d still like to being growing instead. (maybe it’s because I’m afraid of change) But what I’ve been told, and like to believe, is that we are all growing. And sometimes when we don’t feel like we are moving forward, we are simply growing roots. So…And Still I Grow.
I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not reach
When all is summer there.
– John Vance Cheney
We don’t have to think about if the sun or moon will rise, but that doesn’t mean we take for granted the beauty of the sky.
If life and art danced together
their silhouette would be the outline of a Watercolor Woman