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Messy Hearts Made
of Thunder

i sat to watch the clouds for a while this morning. they’re wonderful things, such organic dissolution and growth before our very eyes. but I suppose the beauty of the heavens is not an under-represented subject.

what I love about clouds is how much of a check they are on our perception of presence; a rebuttal against our natural tendencies of categorization. we see clouds as accents to the sky, colors in a sunset, impressions of our reality as it is governed by gravity; when really their size and nature is anything but subtle.

clouds are massive, even though they can appear as but tears in the canvas of the sky. they are facilitators of weather that confuses and destroys our attempts at creating order. the truth of a cloud is a reflection of our limited vision, a retaliation to the self-aggrandizing of human nature, an example of how our judgments based on aesthetics and scale are, at best, quite short-sighted, and how the systems of subjugation we create are just that—mere inventions. we are all subject to the clouds.

14:00 / 12 May 2019
Posted to Personal


Day 26

hanging with Minet

tonight at dinner a woman joined us who seemed in her mid-late 40s… she spends her time as a volunteer for an NGO, rescuing refugees from lost or sinking boats in the Mediterranean.

the simple joy that the adoration of a foreign cat can bring … sometimes it’s because you feel that alone. other times it’s that the loneliness doesn’t feel like anything at all.

23:30 / 11 May 2019
Posted to Personal


invisible walls and
pointless words

It’s a beautiful day and the birds are singing and the clouds are plodding across the blue sky with the speed of a summer breeze. My head is fuming and my heart racing with anger only by the things I read on a screen.

American culture is so shaped by the “one of two things” mentality that it’s hard to take part in any discourse these days; to even read up on it is suffocating. Social design has built a wall around acceptable perspective and drawn a line between two sides and all debate seems to happen within that context: You’re either with us, or against us.1

I dwell in this torture as it ruins the view. Creation is a purpose, but The West has taught me that there is a responsibility to the zeitgeist with that calling—yet as I Follow Back the cultural rhetoric, its banal platitudes only make me think These people are owed nothing. Society is providing an avalanche of evidence as to why it should be buried and left for dead.2

At the same time I know these people are struggling. Anxiety and despair are at all-time highs in Americans—specifically those in my age group, caught between Generation X and the Millennials. Yet it feels increasingly like despair is the only sense in which I can identify with anyone; it’s a damning feeling.

  • How soon we forget.
  • Most of this is stemming from the viral Harper’s Bazaar piece blaming men for women in unhappy relationships, and I basically read it as blanket statements and soundbyte-style writing that is particularly … Trump-like in its desire to garner the most reaction for saying as little as possible.

18:00 / 11 May 2019
Posted to Opinion


Day 25

when the world is sick / can’t no-one be well / but i dreamt we was all beautiful and strong

23:30 / 10 May 2019
Posted to Personal


word on the street

ongoing studies of street art in Palma

21:00 / 10 May 2019
Posted to Personal



Palma by night

… considering Desire, its place in human nature and growth. Defining it seems as necessary as it does impossible. Without it, love falters as much as ambition. What are these concepts without desire? are they even possible?

—is desire the magnetic north of life as a journey? or is it simply the compass, giving direction that can be adopted or abandoned just as easily?

11:00 / 10 May 2019
Posted to Personal


Private Capital to
Captain Bullshit

Jeff Bezos wants to go to the moon. Let’s fucking send him there and leave him.

Billions of dollars pour into rebuilding Notre Dame—even though the Vatican has probably spent more than that on covering up church scandals. Elon Musk and Bezos and Branson working to put the rich in orbit while the poor are suffering, starving, increasing in numbers.

I just can’t read the news anymore. These are not the men who will build a Great Future for Humankind. They’re building Planet Starbucks. They’re the ones that lead to The First Order, not the United Federation of Planets. Our future is so tragic because our present is so obvious.

10:00 / 10 May 2019
Posted to Opinion


Day 24

…it is finally warming up a bit, with one week remaining…

08:30 / 10 May 2019
Posted to Personal


a warm, sharp wind

10:30 / 9 May 2019
Posted to Personal


Day 23

—the day passes as usual—with logos and placement, typography and size ratios, presentations and language. the sun is beginning to set and i set off myself, a walk around the block to clear my head turns to a walk all the way to the city center, the Mediterranean. waves crash and palms rustle atop trees, the wind slaps but the warm air reduces its effect to a resonance with the calm. How something can be so uncomfortable but soothing at the same time is a small miracle I will take from this place.

Palma is small and I’ve all but memorized the city layout. The name is aptly confusing as the Old Town Center streets are drawn like the lines of age on an elderly hand, maneuvering around corners that seem constructed out of respect for time and place instead of convenience.

Like my time in Madrid five years ago, I’m reminded of how relaxed Spain is. It’s ironically nerve-racking as an American. I feel uneasy being this at ease; like things aren’t supposed to be this way. Like life isn’t allowed to cultivate a feeling of simple truth and passive joy. I’ve been told many times by friends how lucky I am to travel, and the irony is that those who have not don’t understand why that luck is true; that for all the measurable difference being in a foreign country allows for, the truth is that the greatest feeling is the relief of American despair and the unending social consequences that the consistent pressures of late capitalism wield upon all of us who live through it.

Minet the cat is waiting for me when I return to my temporary home. I will miss her, I will miss this place, this feeling.

00:30 / 9 May 2019
Posted to Personal


Clear History

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