love, tell me what is love?
it is defined by how i reveal myself to you.


Look at the trees,
look at the birds,
look at the clouds,
look at the stars...

and if you have eyes you will be able to see
that the whole existence is


Everything is simply


Trees are happy for no reason;

they are not going to become prime ministers or presidents
and they are not going to become rich
and they will never have any bank balance.

Look at the flowers - for no reason.

It is simply unbelievable how happy flowers are.





There is nothing greater than overcoming pride by being saturated in humility. I have realized my need for humiliation. I am very embarrassed. I have broken my own rules. No longer am I steadfast. I am realizing my own imperfection. Through this I am becoming stronger, mightier. Savage I am not, for my outer shell is that of a newborn lamb. In the quietness the lamb is filled with wisdom and energy, the commotion hovers and the lamb seeks its Source in trusting desperation. My mission is to love fully, disregarding the requests of my fallen nature.

The beast convinced me that I am wrong, that all of my wisdom is wrong, and that I must be attuned to my desires, inviting a spirit of gluttonous lust to direct me. The goodness that I had was tarnished. For I believed that those pursuing holiness could not be shaken by the heavy footsteps of the dark. Ignorance became prevalent, a blind road ahead without peace or sunlight, I felt the road crumbling beneath me. Winds were windier, colder, chapping my skin of which allowed tiny insecurities to seep into the pores and cracks. Respect for my innate wishes of purity were dehydrated. Not an ounce of energy left, a scream or cry for help deemed impossible. Those familiar gentle hands of tender remedy cradled me within, my weak limbs folded into fetal, I was nourished by the sweet milk of the Mother.

Rolled onto my knees, I peered over the ledge of these hands. Eyes closed tight, one leap and I was surrounded by air, my weakness invigorated with pure energy, Whoosh! Tossed into water, the coda of a brave jump. Enveloped by the elements composing my own being I was blithe, I worked with them to stay on the surface, and we moved together to the land. Tumbling onto the warm sand finding rest, the sun flowing into my mouth, lungs, heart, belly. My skin glowed, I walked around infecting the darkness with the endless energy of love, the earth rattled by a heartbeat.

Tears were no longer a fear, for they are a sweet nectar saturating the land with freedom. Freedom through tears caused by suffering! No longer am I afraid of suffering,

I am only afraid of the darkness which tries to overtake my light.

This is an apology, a request for pardon from the actions my body has manifested.

All that is within my heart, all that is within my mind, is shown through a collection of muscles bones and organs that move and produce sound. I cannot deny that my body was representing the truth. But the truth has changed.


I'm overly and underly in love. To be understood so completely is sheerly irreplaceable. In each others arms we are comfortable. He magically whisks me out of my mundane thought. The intensity of our perfectly paralleled souls burys me to hibernate with the nutrients of the warmest words spoken to me. Its as if we finally realize that we deserve love and our utmost desire is to fulfill this destiny.




the snow reached my knees and i was thankful to be wearing boots, the kind that are perfectly worn in, you know, those burnt toast colored justin boots that lace up and are more of work boots than victorian boots. the hat was worn for the first time that day, purchased at the Dillard's at Eastland before it went away, 2006ish. scarf bought in a market in Uganda. coat, thrift. $1. it's actually quite a lovely coat, all faded minty blue, with a plush brown mink collar. the headphones were connected to Andrew Bird's "Useless Creatures" album. photo taken in Polo, Illinois. happy new year



the silliest thoughts tickle our minds

and the invisible wiring in our bodies

makes us chortle these intense sounds

like gasps of air and sometimes

these sounds get really loud

or they stay in closed mouths

but overall are pleasing to release

and also hearing them sparks

more to escape from our lips

our heads feeling weightless

laughter evokes happiness

with a hand on your belly

you recline with eyes wrinkled

fuzzy baby coons are dancing

inside each breath exhorted




The dizzy lights at Coffee House on Cherry Street were not so admirable until the lens started facing them and memorizing them. Later I asked the lens if it would visually describe its photographic memory.
Here is what the lens told me.


I'm mesmerized by the extreme ways our society handles the winter holiday. You hear about black friday and how people avoid normal sleeping patterns just to save a buck or two. What if you are planning to not spend any money on gifts? Then society says you're not as prominent or as valuable. Cultural labels are written in chalk on your back, as if you were being marked like a diseased Ellis Island immigrant. Will you still persist? For it takes a challenge and maybe a few lashes to attain virtue of which is priceless. On the receiving end, my grandma insists that I compile a list for Santa. If I were to do such a thing, this is what I'd include: [1] [2] [3] [4]



My struggle is,

I know the options, and the outcomes of each option.

So lately I've been choosing the contrary option to the norm.

Pretty much the rebellious and bad option.



I want to understand where people are coming from,

why they behave a certain way, why they enjoy things like

alcohol, drugs, lust, possessions.

AND now that i'm done with my experimentation,

it's time to return to my snail shell,

and to slowly creep along the dirt like I was before.

Who cares if the other bugs' bodies are much faster?

For they do not know the quickness of my mind.




Oh brother, the past few hours have been spent on editing the Uganda pictures. Although the results are worth the grueling labor, and indecisive saturation decisions, it is still a chore (namely because my skillz are disgustingly amateur and I'm using Picnik rather than the standard for all photographers - Photoshop). I hope they bleed an aromatic juice that screams "Flawless".


Close your eyes and empty your mind's cache.
Let the heat of the sun evaporate all hostile and negative flood waters.
See the smile on the sun's face.
Allow the muscles of your mouth to move freely upward and the breath clogged in your lungs to escape in laughter.
Saturate your belly with food from the earth.
Clink the bottles together and celebrate life!
For one moment of rejoicing can melt away many moments of anguish.
Twist until you click with the rhythm of the land, as the sap bonds merrily with the pine tree.
Stride boldly into places clouded by oppression and purse your lips, exhaling a tingly wind of love and hope.
May your words seep in, corroding evil like acid ruins metal, to where the chains weighing down their souls become flaky like croissants, enabling them to tear away and run into the arms of their heroic Father, with soggy clothes drenched in tears.


I took this freakin' picture when I was 14, and it's of the obvious Grand Canyon, so beautifrickinful, oh my goodness. And I found it in one of my facebook albums tonight and decided it was necessary to re-post

These are from Halloween last year. We went to a party and then scooted around Wal-Mart, seemingly wasted but truly sober, frolicking through the aisles with disposable cameras in tow, getting word-slapped by an employee for whizzing around in shopping carts.


Anyone else remember this brilliant Cavalli number? it still dances in my head, in my heart, clouding monetary perception with a fog, a steamy love.



photocred: Trek Earth




PHOTOCRED: Me. I have a very broken camera.




The Jewel by James Wright

There is this cave
In the air behind my body
That nobody is going to touch:
A cloister, a silence
Closing around a blossom of fire.
When I stand upright in the wind,
My bones turn to dark emeralds.

PHOTOCRED: http://www.anthropologie.com


My dad takes forever choosing which pickles to buy from Sam's. And there was this awkward knife demonstration going on at the end of the aisle, therefore a lot of people staring at dad while he picked out his pickles. I felt like we were being filmed. Lots of beady eyes were burning holes in our backs. By the way, he chose the gallon jar of dill spears.


PHOTOCRED: Me, with my very broken camera


"Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you believe, shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish." - John Jakes


Boogers and snot
Snot and boogers

A poem by Anna Coffman

You go outside and breathe in the air
You didn't realize you'd get a booger
But you can feel it in your nostril when you inhale
And there's no way to get it out
Except to pick ya nose, girl
So you do and find a big juicy thing
Then you flick it onto the ground
And a couple of days later it gets crusty
You won't remember that booger in a week
It will remember you


PHOTOCRED: NASA's "Earthrise"
What would you do if your wardrobe caught on fire, turned into ash, and then was dumped into the Baltic Sea?

I was browsing through my closet tonight, and couldn't help but notice how much I love each individual item. There's history behind my clothes. My collection can't have a price tag - comparable to the National Archive's collection of historical written documents. After these ridiculous thoughts occurred, I felt convicted.

What if it were to vanish? What if all of the clothes I thought I loved were to slowly burn away before my eyes? After some immediate shock, and maybe some tears, I know I'd recover. Over time, I'd accumulate a new wardrobe of beautiful clothes that I'd "swear to never part with" - why is this? Why do I place so much value on tangible goods? It's not because I want people to admire me. It's how I display creativity. As I grow older, I'm adapting to a more refined taste. I continue to study fashion, but will I ever wear out? Maybe I need a new identity - bicyclist, entrepreneur, chef, philosopher, musician?

Ugh. I know there's a reason why I have such an "eye" - but for what? Why am I so picky? What is my purpose? All I feel like doing is loving people, and learning more about the world. Yet is that abandoning things I've tied in with my identity? What should identity even include?

In the words of my sister Liz, "One should count each day as a separate life." That's what I'll do.
The Slow Loris.


Everyone needs a pet Philippine Tarsier.


The black & white image is courtesy of The Photodiarist.
I saw her image and remembered that I had taken zoomed-in versions of the same location - Wooster & Canal in NYC. Enjoy