Stop and wonder



I wonder who I’d be, who’d you be if we were stripped of societal embedments. Over stimulated, over medicated, under educated about all the right things. They steal your soul and sell it back to you as art. When everyday should be living breathing art. Humans have the magical capability to make each day count, each day special,  different, learn, try again but instead were blinded and misguided. Malnourished from birth, were fed the wrong things. We worry about money, control, status, power and when you die what does it matter.  Our brains are so vast to explore but they’ve got us mesmerized with paper, shiny things, being “accomplished”, happy meals and facebook. You think your free but you dont even realize youve already inlisted as an internet zombie.

Wake up wake up wake up.

Go outside

get lost

lose yourself

do things that make you afraid

This isn’t a case of Us. vs Them

It’s Us. vs. Ourselves

Realizing these things and being the change


Bad Reputation

City girls dream big. Were a vicarious bunch hell bent on world domination. And how can you blame us, being natives to the center of the universe can leave you buzzed on the eternal hum of the city that never sleeps. This place is a constant mediation on glamour and grit, the illusions that lure us like moths to the flame. We’ve walked these streets an endless mile of memories in my mind and they continue to unfold as the years pass by. This is a new year with new adventures in New York City. With my best friend at my side, we’ve got an arsenal of attitude and exciting changes coming up.

Fingers on a Map


Train stations, bus terminals, airports. These places get my blood flowing, I feel at any moment my legs could take off and I’d be running away from it all. Who knows where’d I go, or what I’d see but everything would be right in front of me. Spin the globe like we did back in school and throw your finger at the map. An entire world can be dreamed when landscapes fall and rise before you.


Inbetween Hours


Its these  times between hours when I’m most uncomfortable with myself I find inspiration, when I’m crawling out of my skin. I look at the trees, the stars, your hand, the floor to escape the hurricane in my mind. These inbetween hours wreck havoc and tear the books from the shelves. Life is soft and hard, romantic and cruel and you mourn every moment unfulfilled. Your flash backing and forward, you could cry but you tell yourself to go to sleep but then the list falls on you again when you awake, and you forget your secret thoughts between yourself until that next morning comes. Those hours hurt, your chest tight, your teeth clenched. Your dose on life is too strong, too beautiful and fractured. Nothing is real because nothing is real, we are the sun, on fire feeling the world revolve around us.




I forgot that feeling, of breathing through my being, absorbing the rain and the reflection of  lights. Running feels primal as my heart races and my thoughts pass me in slow motion. The landscape of time bends askew, the senses heighten and I’m making the rules. Am I running towards something or running away. The ever changing destination frays me but I remember why I love being alive.



just another sunday

20111205-001415.jpg We arrive late, like all things we do. Sip coffee, apply lashes, fuck up our hair, put on belts, say our prayers, and chain smoke with our backs to the sun. Its cool in our bones with the wind in our faces, just need band tees with a good teaze, boots and a bad attitude.