OKAY HERE IT IS

http://i-am-changing.blogspot.com/

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE

A NEW BLOG IS COMING
STAY TUNED FOR THE LINK

Soit l’amour
Soit la mort

Tes lèvres
Me déchirent
En petits bouts

Tes yeux me ramassent
Et me jettent au ciel.

Here is a monlogue that I did for Writing 100, I've been busy, sorry I haven't been updating.

Today I got to class and I sat in the wrong chair. The actual chair itself was fine I guess, but the place it was in was all wrong. I was in the second row. How could I have sat down in the second row, how, I didn’t want to be a second row person, I didn’t want a row of chairs keeping me comfortably hidden amongst everyone else. I didn’t, I wanted to make it very clear; “I am a front row person!”

But once I sat down...once I sat down I couldn’t move, I realized that I couldn’t change seats, the class had started and I was stuck. I was stuck, and for the next fifty minutes I was just an average second row person and no matter what I did, I could not change that.

So I sat. And I sat. And I sat and I sat and I got bored. So I started to play games in my head. I started to annoy the girl next to me, to get her flustered. I started to draw, to write, to do anything to distract myself from how slowly, ever so slowly time was passing. I always think it’s funny when I hear people say life is short. Life is not short, life is very very long.

Anyway, I was still in the second row, the professor was still talking, and I was thinking about just why I was there. Why didn’t I sit in the front row? I wanted to, and no one had told me I couldn’t. Was I scared of something? What was there to be scared of? Did it even matter; is the front row even that much better? Really the biggest thing that bothered me was that no one else sat in the front row either. Were they afraid? Afraid of what, of being different, of breaking some unspoken rule? Maybe that’s just the way they are, maybe none of us are front row people, maybe no one in the world is. Do you think that’s because front row people haven’t been invented yet, or because they’ve gone extinct?

Either way, I think it’s very strange that no one sat in the front. I think I must’ve been right when I said they were afraid. People’s problems are usually caused by being too afraid to do whatever they want. It’s like they want to be different and special but at the same time they don’t want to stand out. But don’t they know that’s what it means to be different and special? I used to think it was a very scary thing to be wrong. But the more I lived, the more I could see that it didn’t matter if other people thought I was strange, or if they didn’t like the things I made. And I sat in the second row, and I thought about that, and I thought about how I could know this, how I could already know this for so long, and how I could still have sat down in the second row.

I know it was me now. I know it was me all along, and it was even me who decided that the rows mattered in the first place. Life is very tricky, it makes you think you’re not in control, and it does this for so long that eventually you end up not trying any more. You shouldn’t though, you shouldn’t let life get the best of you. This is very important, please remember not to let life get the best of you and please remember that even though sometimes it seems like you’re not in control, you always are, and even the things that you can’t stop, you can change what they mean in your head. I really hope that I don’t sound like a crazy person right now.

It’s okay if you don’t really understand me. I believe that very few people really understand each other. Sometimes it seems to me that I’m totally different from everyone else, that I’m not even wearing the same kind of skin as them.

MLY

un clin d'oeil
les étoiles tombent
vos yeux bruns
et cheveux blondes
un petit soupir
les arbres frissonnent
vos yeux bruns
et cheveux blondes

Change my date

si les étoiles me permettraient
si jamais
je donnerai
une mer un soleil
je donnerai à toi
un soleil jamais
à toi chaque pièce
(chaque petite pièce)
de moi de mon coeur
un arbre une fleur
et tu pourrais
étoile jamais
avoir
mes atomes
chaque petit
chaque petite pièce

MV

I have a new blog.

Don't worry, I'm still going to update this one! It's just that I'm taking a class called Creative Being, which requires me to do one creative thing a week and blog about it. (It's a very hard class.) So I guess go follow my other blog too please maybe here's the link. I hope that you enjoy it, but not so much that you forget about YNCTHTH.

"This is what insulation companies don't want you to know about."

there is no difference
between big
and little things
the world is misty beaches
and iron seas
but also
milk-white flowers
and willow trees
there is no distance
between me
and you
the words are misty but
i lo-

I feel like everything is of greater significance than people ascribe to it. Like I should be taking notes on all the faces around me, writing down what's being said, what I'm doing, thinking, feeling. What I'm wearing. But no one would want to read that would they? Want to read that I've already dismissed this woman speaking at the front of the room in favor of writing, that the way I'm sitting in this chair makes my back sore, but I won't move because it would creak...would they really? Do you ever notice how if you throw the things people say out of context in the right direction, they all seem to be saying really deep meaningful things? Today I heard someone say to a colleague, of their employment, "Maybe none of us meant to be where we currently are." I bet all of that just seemed really stupid to you, but to me sitting here, it felt like the lights were suddenly much too hot and bright for my eyes.

Victoria only distracted me from you for a few days, and during those few days I did a lot including this.

Title Deed Marvin Gardens

this cannot be our final destination
we are lost strangers
searching this world for songs to sing later when
we leave our flesh and fly and float away
dripping cosmic colours and falling flowers
but
how could the sun shine and warm
such a cold and shapeless form
only to leave it later silent?
silence soothes and cleans your mind
silence soothes and you will find
peace and grace in death's embrace

This is not my address any more.

Calcium Carbonate

A day is so long
So long and so many
Times in an hour
Can you think a lonely thought
A thought of boredom
Or of dying

A day is so long
And so many
So many moments
To wait away

A day is so long
So many
Words to write
So much time
To invent creative
Ways to die

A day is so long
And so many in our lives
Life is not short
It is very long
It is very long
It is very tiring

Have you ever been so in love with someone, but they're too far away and too busy to talk to you, and you're terrified that they're even with you in the first place because you've never had something truly important in your life before and you don't trust yourself not to ruin it?

"Quick, kiss me before someone realizes we're not in love."

you know the feeling
it is the feeling of
staring at the ceiling while your digital clock hits midnight
sliding down in the covers and pressing your headphones tight
and it is the feeling of
"I know you're somewhere"
and of
not realizing you've been painting in silence for five hours
the feeling of
I wish my heart would burst
so you could see my blood isn't red
but every colour and some that don't exist
and then shimmering shards of light would lift us into space

Aficion

i am become the sky
and distant barren beachgrass
with windy hands and elevator lighting
i love you
kiss me
i love you
"94 accord"
i always wanted to live in those scenes
i saw on the side of the freeway
i never thought i could
but now i am anything
so i am become the sky

I'm still not convinced that anyone understands. I feel like I get up in the morning and walk through a world where the people are part of the scenery. At times I'm certain objects in the distance are just movie backdrops. The people around me are most definitely actors. Why else would their motions seem so unnatural? It scares me but sometimes I want to cut open a stranger just to be sure they're real people. Not that I ever would. Knowing for sure is way more terrifying. That's why when it's dark and you hear a noise, you don't turn the lights on, you stay still. But really, I expect at any moment for everyone to stop and say "Ha ha, just fooling! We're not really like this." Or maybe I hope it. I don't know, this probably sounds stupid and paranoid, but sometimes I feel like people who look at me when I'm on the bus or whatever already know who I am.

"It's a different thing than that entirely."

I love you there is nothing more
to say I love you every day
from trading flowers and holding hands
to tear monsoons and maybe soon
you'll understand me when I say
I love you there is nothing more.

I'm not sure if I like this.

Pojmański

I look into her eyes
Unimaginably far away a nebula glitters
She sighs softly
Space is silent
She leans toward me
A comet hurtles
She's closer now
A moon orbits a planet
Her lips part
Gravity gently urges the comet
She kisses me
It collides with the moon
My veins dilate and my heart races
Shattered rock is everywhere
She pulls back
Meteorites fall into the planet's atmosphere
She smiles
And a million alien eyes watch shooting stars

My eyes are flame. My heart is flame. I burn.

there is always again
there is always time is not a lie
the world will wait for you and i
why, the world will wait for anyone
who wastes their days wandering in a horrid haze
repitition is not routine, repitition makes us clean
and if you try one more time
there is always a gain

MEO

just to clarify
"perfect"
doesn't mean
you have no flaws
it means you have
all the right ones
and it means
you feel familiar

you know
"perfect"
that perfect
doesn't mean "that"
perfect it means you make
the world (you make
my world perfect) not
seem so strange

I was too busy having the best weekend ever to update, so here is a triple to make up for it.

"C'est incroyable!"

2

"Expect the unexpected" is a contradiction, because if you expect the unexpected then it becomes the expected. So let's throw away the expected and the unexpected, and focus on the fantastic and the strange. They are the things for which we need actually be prepared, because they are what distinguish today from yesterday.

Pastels taste yucky.

Gravity.

it haunts me in dreams
and snatched moments of night
the silence

i've heard it three times before
the first
i was twelve
i was camping with my family
and walked off into the woods
i sat on a rock
where the ferns caressed my feet
the wind stopped...
the trees hushed...
nothing.

the second
i was fifteen
i was night-time prowling
and on my way home
i cut through the park
away from the street
and the cars...
and the lights...
nothing.

the third
i am eighteen
i was on a class trip
we were snowshoeing on a summit
mist hung over the mountain
and the trees loomed to infinity
i fell back amongst the leaning giants
and my friends crested a ridge
their voices ceased to reach me
leaving me with the snow...
and nothing.

the silence
(you'll know it when you hear it)
comes unexpectedly
though it looms massive

and

the silence
is stillness
aloneness

it hangs
and smothers

it becomes of you
silences your mind
your breath
your heartbeat

it is timeless
infinite
immortal
eternal

it is the beginning
and the end

it torments me
and drives me to extremes

i know the silence is not merely of
placid lush forests
night-shrouded parks
or birdless ice-landscapes:
it is the song of death

Did this street look like this yesterday? I don't think I know the way home any more.

#

Other people simply glimmer in and out of our lives: ultimately we are each one of us alone.

9 days

I think I used to be someone different.

I hate when people ask me what I'm drawing as if I should know.

@

You're a shell of what you used to be.
And a shell is of no use to me.

Sangria

Amanda.

Before you answer, look at the stars. Know that for a billion years their light remains unchanged. That a thousand thousand stars could live and die and I could never love you more or less. Love the landscape of your body and your silken skin. Your voice as soft and dreamy as the wind in the trees and your eyes as brilliant as fireworks. Love your flower petal lips and, know that you seem more distant than any star. That as innumerable as they are, I would search each one for a million years if it meant I could find something more to give to you than the very voice from my throat and all the breath from my lungs.

rustling leaves
incense smoke
whispering eaves
paintbrush strokes

Yes that is Bart Simpson.

je vous attends ici
ici sur l'herbe je vous attends
ici sur l'herbe et moi j'entends
des oiseaux qui chantent et croyez vous
qu'il mentent aux ceux qu'ils aiment ?
les libellules le savent, mais ils ne me disent pas
mais voulez-vous savoir, ce que moi je crois ?
moi je crois qu'une chanson aussi belle
ne peut jamais parler d'un amour mortelle
et que les oiseaux que moi j'entends
sont des anges qui même aujourd'hui attendent
la joie de connaitre quelqu'un comme vous

Beautiful sunflower
Shining at me
Dull seems the sun
When I look at thee

Poem For the Distant Mountains.

As summer's day ends and green fields turn to gold,
Children laugh somewhere, and the air becomes cold,
I hear the sound of cars; as if a rushing river,
I realize that I'm alone, and now I start to quiver

All alone, and I miss you,
But the sun sinks low behind me,
And as I gaze at pink painted peaks
I know that you will find me.

Charcoal

i believe in tormented souls
the shadows visible
behind stained-glass eyes
shadows which flicker
shadows never recede
shadows which haunt
graffittied bus shelters and shadows which
lurk beyond lamplight, shadows cast
even in darkest night
shadows deep as
the ocean and shadows as
black and fluttering ravens
shadows which follow you home and shadows which
echo in sighs, those shadows
drift in your eyes as you sleep

If you need me, just take one step towards me and I will take a thousand towards you.

"You're really cute, but it might just be because you're unconscious."

"I know how that feels."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, like everything around you is crushing you and you can't move or breathe or cry out."
"No, it's not like that."
"It's not?"
"No, it's like things work for everyone else, but not me."
"Powerless."
"Yeah."

Something new started today. You might go "oh it's too soon to say that," but all I'm saying is I'm hoping one day I'll tell a story about today.

the waves break closer
I beg them to stop, but they
wash over my feet

11:25

My skin is smooth today. Tomorrow I will be faced with the decision of whether to shave again or not. Restore smoothness. Or leave rough. Then the next day. And the next.

Snow melts fast in the city. Good. If it stays too long, becomes black. When given choice between ugly and gone, always choose gone.

Great secret you never heard: meaning of life is beauty. Sublime beauty of impermanence. Special because never the same for too long. Never here for too long either. Die before life becomes ugly. Melt before turning black.

We try to make our lives more like movies, when we should try to make movies like our lives.

beyond lies the
beyond the lies
beyond the lies lies the
the beyond lies
beyond the lies
lies lies

"No, no I can't do it!"
"Why not?"
"Because I'm scared!"
"Why?"
"Because no one's ever done it before!"

Sublime beauty of impermanence. (Special because it is short-lived.)

It's 9:30. Time to skate. Down the driveway, down the street, walk fifteen minutes, down a hill, coast into an elementary school parking lot.

Skate around back of the school. Hopscotch courts. Not even there five minutes and someone else comes around the corner. He pops some big ollies and impresses me.

As we skate we are silent. As we skate our boards clatter, and echoes bounces off the walls of the school, roll down a hill and float out over rooftops. Summer evening. No one else is out. Bet you could hear us three blocks away.

He leaves, still silent. Skate off in the opposite direction. Now just skate, no board clattering, now silence, ghostly gliding wheels. Smooth. Gentle. Foot down stop. Up concrete stairs.

Onto a field of evenly cropped grass. Not damp yet. Sit on the board anyway. Darkening sky. Distant blue mountains. Rooftops. Streetlights. Pale gold sunset, ribbons. Buzzing mosquito.. Knock it away. Buzzing still, two men's voices.

Imperceptibly slow clouds hang over the mountains. Been sitting in this field how long? An hour? Doesn't matter. The air is fresh and cool.

Wait, is this real? No it can't be. Why does it feel so perfect? Touch the grass. Can feel it. Must be real. What's happening?

Get up, must walk home. Hungry. Exhausted. Go. Swish swish I love the sound of feet on grass. Up through white clover onto the street. That sign on the corner is so vivid.

Whole world is beautiful. Everything is so detailed. To find out, just stop and look. Been too fast and too distracted for too long. Jump back on the board and skate slowly.

Almost home. This night was... My eyes hurt and I want bed. Almost home. Down a hill and around the corner. Home.

Turn the key shut the door drop the board. Down the hall kitchen light on glass of milk. Cold. Sweet. Soothing. Look down at my feet. Shoes are still on.

Walk to the living room pet the cat walk up to my room. Tired. Tonight was weird. Scary. Scary because what if no one else understands?

Everything is sitting there. Right there. And it feels like no one else notices. Notices the shape of that cloud or the texture of the concrete. Notices the orange of the lights or the rhythm of the sprinkler.

Scary because if no one else understands and if no one else notices; alone.

Let's do drugs until this is normal.

Have you ever gone for a walk and thought "there's nothing stopping me from walking away from my whole life right now" ? And even though you don't think it seriously at first, you walk on and you play movies in your head. "Where would I sleep?" "How would I eat?" "I could meet completely new people." Eventually you realize, this would be an adventure, and only good could come of it. So you convince yourself that you're going to do it. You begin to coach yourself. "I'm going to do this." "There is nothing to be scared of." "I don't need any thing to feel happy." And you get further and further away from your old home. Now you are walking along a street you've never seen before. "It doesn't matter. I'll end up somewhere new and cool." But then doubt-thoughts start to jump around in your brain. "Just keep going." "One foot in front of the other." "I've come too far to go back now." And soon enough, you stop. You stop walking and you turn around and look back at the way you came. "I don't want to go back." "A new life could only be better." And so on. Maybe you will stand like this for five minutes. Maybe you will stand like this for an hour. Either way, you won't turn back around and keep walking. You'll go home to your own room and your warm bed.

a girl
who feels bored
a boy
who feels tired
someone
who feels something
this is a room of people
bored
tired
lonely
hungry
this is a room of people
who feel like somewhere else
"very romantic"
who feels

"Okay. I know we don't talk a lot. But I feel like I should tell you that I think
you're super pretty and interesting and I'd like to get to know you better."
"Oh."
"…"
"When you say 'get to know me-'"
"Coffee and a conversation."
"Oh."
"…"
"Would you try and kiss me?"
"No but I would hold your hand."
"That's okay. Would you pay for my coffee?"
"If it wasn't too expensive."
"Would you ask me out again?"
"If you talked to me the next day."
"Oh."
"…"

Look, Some Drawings.

Get it?

There's also this collage. They were supposed to be a series of three. Maybe I will post the third one later.

I'm sorry for the bad photo quality. Once I have a nice camera I will use that to take pictures. Or once I have a studio you can come visit and see these things in person. Whichever comes first.

Recently I have been asked about the meaning or purpose behind the last collage I posted.

If you're reading this, chances are a newspaper comes to your house at least a few times a week. That is a good thing. You need to keep up with the rest of the world.

Actually you don't really need to, the Amish seem to get on fine.

Anyway, as I'm sure you are aware, the paper frequently comes with flyers and other similar types of ads inserted into the innermost pages. One of my favourite things to do is hold the newspaper by its spine and then lift it up so that all of these things fall out, but the paper stays nice and neat and readable.

Okay it's not really one of my favourite things to do, but I do it every time I get a new paper so that I don't have to deal with removing the flyers in some other, inefficient manner.

Now, I don't really like advertisement in general. But that's a big topic which is not to be discussed right at the moment. Regardless, I find it rather vulgar to have a swimsuits and two-dollar (I forget what the two dollars was next to but it was something from Wal-Mart) mixed in with stories about people getting killed, raped, hit by cars, etc. It seems wrong to me to place the same value on informing people about the terrible things we do to each other, as on informing people that they should by swimsuits and go to Wal-Mart with their toonies.

I also found it quite strange and unsettling that a swimsuit ad would include headless men fondling dead fish. It doesn't make any sense. And it's weird. Think about it.

So I cut out many many random paragraphs from this newspaper. I chose the stories that I found the most interesting, sad, disturbing, etc. Then I cut out the creepy swimsuit ad. Then I cut out the "$2" from the Wal-Mart flyer.

I had all of these lying on the floor in front of me, but I kept flipping through the paper, because I felt like something was missing and I knew that whatever it was had to come out of the same paper as everything else, otherwise it wouldn't work.

Then I came to the movies section. I don't like the movies section, I think it's boring and stupid and much larger than it should be. Same goes for the sports section. I find it, again, strange and unsettling, (really the feeling I get is something else entirely, but I don't know the word for it or even if there is one.)

I knew there was a page in the sports section that had the words "aren't real" on it, and when I saw the big letters spelling "MOVIES" I couldn't resist. It seems that we forget sometimes that actors and actresses don't look like that in real life, that "based on a true story" doesn't even technically mean most of what happens in the movie actually happened, and so on and so forth with a list of ways that movies obscure our sense of reality.

Not that I don't like film! You see "MOVIES aren't real" doesn't literally mean that movies aren't real. That would be a silly thing to go about trying to communicate. Instead I wanted to draw attention to how we place movies (not real) alongside stories of human despair (real) and therefore place upon them a similar value.

Note that the ads are covering and obscuring the news stories (the artificial and unreal covering and obscuring the real and significant) and that the phrase drawing attention to the fact that the unreal is casting the real in shadow is placed over top of the ads (voice attempting to call attention away from the unreal and back to the real).

Calling attention away from the unreal and unimportant and back to the real and important is what I wanted to do with this collage. I also wanted to communicate that unsettled and disturbed feeling which I mentioned before, the feeling for which there is not a word.

I like summer sunsets because they last so long.

look up; blue sky, for you.
sit down; green grass, for you.
the sun, the wind, the rain,
the mountains, the oceans, the forests;
would be empty motions if it wasn't
for you.

I hear you say "be yourself" but you say it in unison with everyone else.

It's way too hot.

As I held the dandelion up to my face, ready to blow the seeds into the wind, I realized something. I didn't know what to wish for. There was nothing in my life that felt out of control. I had everything right where I wanted it. So I wished for that feeling to last.

There's no difference between night and day when you give control of your mind away.

From the time we open our lives, from that time until we die, all our time gets taken from us and gets turned into a lie.

It makes me even sicker, when I hear somebody say, "oh, there's nothing I can do, to make any of this go away!"

I know a certain girl. She is a pretty girl with a pretty name and a pretty voice. She is thin and has brown hair and if you want to know what her voice sounds like think of the sound the wind makes in the trees. She is polite and she smiles gently if our eyes meet.

I've never kissed this girl, but once I had a dream about it. Secretly I think she wouldn't ever like me, but when we talk, my breath still catches and I drop things.

Daggermouth.