She dawns a dress. Not her first; perhaps her last. Thoughtless innocence to this evenings events. Nothing new and anticipatory, even still her feign surprise sells the rooms attendees. Their fee is compensated, hypnosis, succumbing to adrenaline drowning their sense. Dilation - Mutation. Victims of her infecting essence. Existence thereafter damnation, longing for emancipation of breath. Painting every step in colbolt, luring dissipated fools. Singular casualties signal only the final act. Presently masses crawl to execution, by her convey. One by one, offerings nourish the ground soaking primeval layers. A frigid sigh leaves her lungs, caressing parted lips. Flames ignite her veins, ablaze the freeze, life shattering the silence. Bare beauty drifts freely but not without a price to pay.
Sing Me a Story
I was a traditionalist, still very much am when it comes to relaying my thoughts, speaking my truths, painting my stories through words. Over 80% of my ideas are transcribed on physical pieces of paper, anything blank and able to be scribbled on are my canvases. My notebooks become collages of scraps from newspapers torn, reciept paper slowly fading from fingertips turning them over and over, graded elementary papers, backs of pictures, postcards, even the occasional ticket stub. In and of itself there's a story with every piece, a time period, a thought frozen in the moment it's formulated and consolidated in my brain. While half written sentences and misspelled words can be their own mystery to solve, the time in which its set can immediately take me back, put me in the mindset of 6 year old Blondie. Sitting as high as she can on the jungle gym, anxiously waiting for her parent to arrive to after school care and take her home to stuffing her face with hamburger helper. Passively listening to her father play video games, she'd kick her dangling feet from the barstool she sat at doing "homework" that included coloring in the lines and learning that 1+1 doesnt equal 11.
As I Phyxate
1997 Lets start things off on how my music repertoire began. The very first exposure I had to live music was a Bob Dylan concert when I was less than a year old. Although this doesnt seem possible for a baby to recall, it's been proven that infants brains absorb music and sounds from a young age that stay with them throughout not only childhood, but adulthood as well, and form a basic foundation. While Bob Dylan is usually an aquired taste, his stylization has always held a special place in my heart. The folk singing methods and simple melodies filled with harmonics feels like the home I grew up in. Appropriately this song in particular "The Times They Are A-Changin'", fit right into my beginnings of coming into this world, a changing, new world for myself and a changing one for my newly made parents.