Introspection

Walking home in the dark with my best friend
in my yellow coat and 5 inch heels
and new hair cut he says makes me look
older- more sophisticated
True- we are grown now
It doesn't feel quite like old times
when we were young and free
and had adventures

he told me
he admires that I am proactive (when it comes to my art)
that I always stay true to my heart
which struck me as funny
I wasn't even sure
that I still had a heart
I feel I've done things
recently
to hurt others
but I feel
myself
impervious to pain

Yet maybe I do still have a heart
maybe it's hidden
in there
somewhere.
I can't find it.
maybe that's what friends are for
to help you search for
what you lost
what you can't find.
it's hidden
in there
somewhere.

Hair Today... New Persona Tomorrow?

I've come across a problem whilst filling out my application for a passport: haircolor.
Haircolor? Oh shit. Do I write my natural hair color (blond), which I haven't seen in over six years, or the color that my hair tends to be the majority of the time (red)? Maybe I should just put "multi" or "various" or perhaps just "?!" in the first two boxes.

It brings to mind the notion that hair is so much of our identity. Watch America's Next Top Model, for example. You tell a conservative model would-be she's going to have to be nude in a shoot, you see hesitation and maybe some tears. You tell any model she's getting her long hair chopped off, and chances are she's on the floor sobbing like a baby.

I've never quite understood the tears in that situation. Then again, my hair grows uber quickly.
It's been long enough to sit on, short and spiky, bright orange, magenta, various shades of red, brown and blond, even blue-streaked. I've dyed it myself and even lopped off my own bangs a few times with varying success. If hair is a big part of our identities, I wonder what this says about me?

Love and Lust... and Pineapple?

The more I mingle as a single, and keenly observe other's relationships with this insatiable curiosity, the more incredibly attuned I become to the divergent paths between love and lust. It seems very few people find both. I feel that these two L's must at some point come together at a crossroad, and it's only by burying your soul in the dirt of that sacred or cursed ground that two souls come together to form the ideal situation.

Now is not the Time to Panic

Oh, the times, they are a-changin.'
Businesses are going under, banks are closing, once rational people are speaking pre-apocalyptical fears. Or not speaking them. But when any fear, real or imagined is brought to light or implied, I see waves of panic flash into even the most typically optimistic person's eyes.

Now, I'm a funny creature. I tend to think the worst, I tend to feel the panic beating in my chest, like a thousand bats trapped in a cave-in, but maintaining a thin smile nonetheless. And this is during the "good times." But when worst comes to worst, I become a huge optimist, when things look most bleak, all I see is possibility. It's as though my house has blown down and I'm standing over it with nothing but a hammer and a pocket full of nails. And I smile because the new house will be made by me and need look nothing like the old one.

So I too, may wonder- may speak of impending apocalypse from time to time, in passing. But I don't mean to instill fear or inspire others to withdraw their life's savings and hide it under the mattress. I say live it up. Maybe I'm a secret hedonist, but the truth is our days are numbered. And they always have been, even in good times. Not one of us will live forever, so shouldn't we all strive to do something great every moment we have a chance?

Maybe, in this tough time, we should all learn to start living more simply. But that doesn't mean to stop living. I'm not ready to roll over and die, I'm ready to start having fun. And couldn't a simpler life still be grand? maybe we'll learn to appreciate the small things again, the little miracles that are usually lost in the din of our great advancements in technology and so forth.
Now is not the time to panic. Now is the time to look our reflections in the eye and realize our immense potential for creative genius.

Dear Mr. Almost Was,

I'm sorry we didn't work out. It was probably my fault, as I tend to psyche myself out, and assume that you must be so much more serious about us than I am or want to be, when I know that is just a projection of my own fear. You never suffocated me, I pulled the plastic over my own freedom. I never should have confessed my feelings if I wasn't prepared to deal with reciprocation, and I may have hurt you- I most definitely confused you quite enough- and for that I am truly sorry. I'm glad that we are still on speaking terms, even if we are distanced by our busy lives. Maybe neither of us was prepared to take the time, and maybe it wasn't meant to be because we are too much alike. Regardless, I like think we are both on the path to our own fortunes, whatever that might mean, and I wish you nothing but the best in life.
Sincerely,
Lepisma Saccharina

Hiroshi and the Sphinx

Came across some old pictures from San Fransisco I took a couple years back. I'd forgotten I'd taken them till I shot off a half a roll on my holga at my friends outer-space themed party a few monthsago, and finally processed it about a week ago.
These just feel kind of mystical to me.
Outside the Hiroshi Sugimoto exhibit:
Sugimoto-san
Sphinx sans Sugimoto-san

Girl Hero

Why is it that the girl is only the hero
when she says no?