If I could put down in words what april was like for me I would do so and probably make myself feel a whole lot less manic in the process. someone referred to the transmutation of lead to gold as a physical process; I am only changing.

but here are two newest songs.

please be kind.

i’m in serious danger of failing two of my classes and having my heart beat up after-school-style, i haven’t slept well in ages and haven’t dreamed in longer, and my phone fell out of my pocket on the bus this morning.

we’re off to a great start.

it’s four in the morning and i just got back from the studio. there are pressed flowers in the cups.

in progress monster for an installation project. his head will grow flowers.

eating emily’s ghetto soup out of the bowl my grad student ceramics prof. made me fer my eighteenth birthday.

I have decided that wednesdays are magical.

played open mic last night. I was nervous quiet but people sort of stopped speaking and listened which is more than can be said for some. 

spoke to one Hill Williams who doesn’t reveal his real name. his songs are quirky and relatable and he speaks like a crazy person and he intrigues me.

“go on and love me when you’re able, and then forget me when you can. I ain’t just looking for a good time, and I don’t wanna be your man.”

we’re going to play music in april sometimes, he says.

went to the studio engine firing on three cups of coffee and yerba matte and luna bars and cranberry juice and determination. I didn’t accomplish near what I should’ve which didn’t concern me (which sort of concerns me). stayed up all night and made clay with a particularly beautiful kayaking boy. we wore porcelain war paint and climbed the piles of clay bags with a blanket and watched the sun come up.

it’s funny that the planet revolved all the way around while we were in that room.

thank god for nights and people that make being here better than bearable.

tupence:

sofa, look.

my heart may have just exploded.

(Source: cuntorcism)

want to go back to nyc. want to go anywhere where i can protest in solidarity with the ows movement again. i can’t believe we’re losing attention, that people are forgetting. this country has the collective memory of a fucking fruit fly.

goodnight internet.

lions vs lambs

first swim of the springtime. hasty feels good.

it is my birthday.

i’m eighteen. i feel a good deal older and a whole lot younger than that. 

maybe that is how it’s supposed to be. feelings cancel each other out and you end up in the right spot.

but i never understood math, and when i did i never worried about it.

images from turning eighteen.

downbreaking:

PBR circle of death, with star wars cards!

since I have no current artwork that is finished enough or that I am proud enough to speak of and I have writers block when it comes to music-type things and I’m taking years off my life with the stress of trying to survive this semester scholarship intact, I’ll leave ya’ll with this photo by my friend Derrek Marcus, which, it would seem, adequately represents most of my time not spend at the CAC/in the studio/sleeping.

on the bright side, I have a job this summer working and possibly living on a beautiful farm back home and I get to spend my summer outside instead of in a kitchen and I am very, very happy.

it’s the night before the art scholarship judges come, and everyone who’s applying for them has their work up all over the walls in every room and down every hallway and i love it. it’s so fucking inspiring.

i told a friend not to come to WVU because it’s a sad town and it’ll eat your soul unless you’re lucky. i stand by that, and i could go on about why. 

i think i’ve managed to be a little lucky though. i’ve met a couple of real people who make some beautiful shit and have things to teach me and things they want to learn from me and hopefully that’s all it takes.

this is a song i wrote about some close friends of mine.