| (no subject) |
[Sep. 24th, 2005|04:42 pm] |
| [ | mad tunes |
| | Death Cab for Cutie | ] |
I miss Guatemala. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 25th, 2005|10:56 pm] |
| [ | how do you dream? |
| | SERIOUSLY CHECK THEM OUT | ] |
| [ | mad tunes |
| | BAND OF HORSES | ] |
So I went to New York City this past weekend. I had always wanted to go. Since I was about thirteen. So the fact that I was actually going, and it was only planned a week in advance was so surreal. It was like, all that time I had just had a picture of it in my mind but as soon as I went the dream would be over and I could never say again "Oh I really want to go to New York City." Now, I had to say that I had been. And we went. And it was fantastical. I fell in love with the Village. I love Manhattan. For me, the city-what I saw of it in a day- became a personality. For Sarah too. There was too much to see, to digest. I but I didn't feel overwhelmed. I limited myself to the simple things in Greenwich. Like the kids with balloons, or the couples sleeping out by the fountain in Washington Square, or the outdoor movie theater in Bryant Park, or the adopted babies in their strollers, or the Italian people walking behind us, or the trees and the way they shadow the big brown-brick apartment buildings. I was looking into Tisch School of Arts for photography. But as I did more research, I decided that it was very limited-only to acting, dancing, film, and photography. I still want to do photography, but I found another school also through NYU called the Steinhardt School of Education which is located in Manhattan in the same general area. Their art programs look great. There is tons of studio space and you can combine different medias into your study without soley focusing on the big picture. So I could paint and shoot film and take pictures. Whatever. It will be hard to get into. I know that I am capable of good grades. And if the city is important to me like I feel it is, then I need to buckle down junior year. It's nothing I can't handle. Plus, I'm looking at the big picture. I was looking at the big picture all this year too even though people above me don't necessarily think that. My year was just more focused into relationships that will grow now in the future. I love the Metro and the sidewalks and the pizza. I know it can be overwhelming, but I enjoy the bustle. I would just stick to Greenwich anyway. Its a beautiful area. I of course am still wanting to dedicate alot of my time and energy into Guatemala. It is a main priority of mine. Maybe six months before college to build up a nice portrait portfolio and strengthen community service for me. This summer, I'm working full time again to be able to go to Europe next winter and Guatemala around December. I also desperately need a Nikon N80 so I don't have to keep worrying about automatic focus! haha. Alex, come back home soon. We need to sit down and map out ideas for the film. I have a couple very very small ideas. Not a big picture though, but I think it should be as realistic, yet simple as it can be. I feel like the two of us should keep a journal of interesting things people say to formulate those realistic elements and themes into a script. I'm excited. I can't wait for school to be back either. I'm going back to the city after coldplay in August. I need to buy back my ticket before it is re-sold. :( |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 12th, 2005|11:04 am] |
Guatemala for a year
Photography Portfolio
Tisch School of Arts
Spread Safe Passage
Take pictures
Make movies |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 7th, 2005|10:08 pm] |
You know what. Fuck everything. No one can stop me. Yeah, I'm going to get average grades. And yeah. I'm going to be alone this summer. And no. My girlfriend and I are in love. And in two years I will be in Guatemala. With my Rafael. At the school, smiling with beautiful children who will love me, who I can love, who won't call me a monster for loving. I will be happy. Regardless.
So fuck you.
Fuck you.
Mom: Do you prefer mayonaise or miracle whip?
Jon: I dunno. uhhhh.
Iron and wine is coming. I want to take a cab with her. Somewhere so far away they can't find us. Guatemala. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 31st, 2005|08:01 pm] |
|
"Love to say this in your ear"
I Love You Only
Guatemala. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 25th, 2005|07:37 pm] |
| [ | mad tunes |
| | Iron and Wine | ] |
We are lions
We cannot be taken
By a lonely South
We make our own heat
Beneath sheets
Love
Love
The taste
Sfora
And the feeling
We cannot be taken
Not by you
Because
We
Have
Something
You
Cannot
Reach
Into
We
Have
Truth
for always
Please Stop. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 27th, 2005|03:57 pm] |
| [ | how do you dream? |
| |  confused | ] |
| [ | mad tunes |
| | iron and wine | ] |
And there are some, I know
That can easily erase the residue that coats their bones
The film sticks
But not well enough
They’ve got out their 27-exposure throw-away’s
Pointing them at a stranger’s face
Laughing at the thought that they could now tell all their friends they’ve been here
It sticks and for us it stucks tough
But the zoom won’t capture the thoughts
That penetrate the surface of the pupils
I just can’t get close enough in eight days
We walk on our tour
The kids have got rocks in their hearts and their feet hurt
A blind girl, tongue lolling on the ground, lapping at the group
In American eagle
And
They walk the streets
Steadily
Releasing
The feeling
That there is a starving person
Caked on the sidewalk near their feet
A boy,
A child
Brown eyes
Black hair
Messy stare
No
One
Looks
Back
BUT I CANNOT FORGET THE STARES
THE PAIN
THE GUN SHOTS
THE HEAT
THE FLIES
THE DISEASE
THE FEELING
THAT
I
WAS
WALKING
BESIDE
SOMEONE
WHO
NEEDED
ME
And I need them
All of them
RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND
Hugging me
I would whisper in their little ears
To come in a foot closer
“No babydoll, stand here; I will hug you back
Until you never need another thing from anyone”
I would wash every gun away
I would pry every piece of metal from every cheek
From every mouth, so don’t you cry
And I cannot forget
The worms I didn’t see
Infecting my sleep
As I lay there in my palace
Under blue sheets
And I am coughing now
But I would fade away just to stop their coughing
And I cannot forget
Marvin’s painting
Or Celly’s singing
Or Dilan laughing at his tongue being orange
Or Francy’s stutter
Or Claudia’s dresses
Or Fabiola’s bracelets
Or Denis reciting the alphabet
Or Rolando’s freckle
I cannot let go of
Carlos’s hugs
After I pulled up his britches
I cannot forget Brian’s little smile
Wearing his giraffe shirt
Or Josefa’s scuffed shoes wrapped tight around my legs
Or Sucely’s eyes
Or Gerson’s stare
Or Haidi’s cries
As I combed lice out of her hair
I cannot forget how softly
The sticky air
Clung onto the holes of their shirts
Or the dirt on their hands
Or the shoes too small
Or the hair gel outburst
They just want to be clean
They just want to feel their skin
Like the rest of us amphibians
And I cannot forget
The cardboard
The tarps
The tin
The grins on the faces of the ignorant white kids
Eating and eating and eating
And drinking and drinking and drinking
And swearing
To themselves
They brought something with them
Other than nothing
And I will not let go of the nothing
That was everything
That was hope
That was said to me slowly in a foreign tongue
That was Mayan
That was Spanish
That was ruins
That was swarming
That was reeking
Of violence
Of pestilence
Of countenance
But off innocence still
Of voices
Raised
Above the trash in Guatemala city
Above noisy culprits in Antigua
I will not ever let go of Rafael’s little hands
Holding onto my weak little arms
Walking
With me
And my girl, those two
The only things I need to
Keep my heart
Yearning to hold little hands
We were Sunburnt
They are Food burnt
Bean juice
Tortillas stacked in fingers
Handed out
To suffice for something real
Received
And grateful
Saying
“God is good, God is great
Now let’s thank him for our food, Amen”
And this is real
That is real
We are really holding all our money down, aren’t we?
And we are killing glances
And we are dying expressions
And we are escaping smiles
And we are taking
Nice
Hot
Showers
On the dot
And
We are cooking
Macaroni
And cookies
And coughing on
Peach sunset smoothies
At the airport
Next to a cancer lounge
Filled with tanning booth victims,
Polo addicts
Girls minoring in Abercrombie and fitch
Boys majoring in disintegrating
Making out in a bathroom with automated papertowels
And listen:
There are a beautiful people
Digging for their filth
That they ring around their necks
So the gunmen don’t get them down
I’ve seen crayons
And I’ve seen scabby pictures
Drawn out and bloody
Scratched out and clawed out
And bleeding
And each paper is just crying out
I can hear them pleading
“Please, believe what I say
I’m a good little boy,
I know, I don’t know, I know”
This is the reality
So
See if you notice
Go to Disneyworld
And buy chocolate covered raspberries from starbucks
And take an airplane back to your world
And let your jeans
Circle around some heat just a little longer
And you make sure you tell yourself
That you
Empathize with
Babies who
Wear
Mickey Mouse shirts
That are half eaten by rabid dogs and dormant volcanoes
And tourists and gravestones
And vultures
And toothaches
And thick, brown chocolate cake
And pollution even thicker
And dirt floors even darker
And you tell yourself your blue heart hungers for starving children
Tucked away beneath Mexico beside an ocean they don’t know about
They’re in a one room house crouched in a Mickey Mouse shirt
That the youngest mother found earlier that day
And ran home to pass out to her youngest
With a smile on her weathered face |
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