Other Colors

SILVERFISH. A HIGH-SCHOOL ALBUM FOR THE GENERATION THAT DOESN’T GROW UP AND JUST GROWS CYNICAL. MUSIC FOR SUMMER NIGHTS SPENT DRINKING PILFERED ALCOHOL ALONE IN YOUR PARENTS’ BACKYARD, WHEN YOU CAN’T IMAGINE THAT ANY OF THIS COULD END WELL. THE DEFINITIVE STATEMENT ON TEEN DREAMS AND FAILURES, A COMING TO TERMS WITH INEVITABLE LOSS, SEPARATION, AND THE VISCCITUDES OF ADULTHOOD. MUSIC FOR THE LISTLESS YET FRANTIC WEEKS THAT PRECEDE SAYING GOODBYE. WE HAVE LOST OUR SILVERFISH, BUT WE HAVEN’T LOST OURSELVES.  I had the pleasure of playing on this awesome EP :) 

Music From: Kill La Kill Composer: Hiroyuki Sawano

Painting I did for Armadillo Hotel!

I’m blonde in the dream, under the weather loose shirt chasing the wind against my back, hands on my shoulders singing in the populated corners of the earth.

In this apartment building the rain falls through a small vent in the shower, and when the shower's off, I feel the rain touch my skin. I turn the lights off and let the vent inhabit a small space in the darkness, and I let the light outline the vague figure of my feet. I then imagine myself in a world of little light, in a darker place underneath a building faraway. I imagine never knowing the sensation of running on grass, swimming through water, or climbing a tree. I've never heard the sound of another human's voice. I imagine touching another body for the first time in the darkness, and what it might feel like. Could my imagination have led me to another's reality somewhere close or faraway. I return to my place in the bathroom, under the light, turning the water on. 

          She never had a passion to draw what she saw, only write. Admittedly, she knew herself to be a drab artist at best, yet didn’t tout herself as a literary virtuoso either. It gave her the delights that hobbies were known to give. What she wrote on the pages was a mystery, something a hopeful lover would wonder about if they were to ever fall deeply in love with her. This however had never been the case.           After closing her pages and walking away, the night soon brought upon the rain and the rain brought with it the cold. The individuals that made up the homes around buried themselves in sheets while the men and women in the nearby pubs filled themselves with liquor. Fireplaces, warmth, and security hid behind the shut windows and closed doors around her. In the distance, a crackling of thunder was heard.           Off the street and onto a scarcely lit trail, the woman clenched her hands snugly to her waist and slow-soaked the rain and wind. Step after step and puddle after puddle, she kept her eyes on the path ahead; through the distant overgrown willows and colonies of vegetation, she saw the faint lights she had come to know well. It was home. 

sprinkles of rain from the coming clouds the beat of a windchime hum can mingle dogs from the neighborhood trot to your step and delicate carvings from over your head become the color, the bruise, the beauty of violence and the smooth the tantalizing cloth pushing down on held breasts drifting so slow to the image of skin  they whimper, you grip the door and let them in. ports become home in a world of sea when you stare at the flood in the sky.

a generation of sinkholes we step with our bodies first, minds of glass and screen door bodies clean the slate, put the pin, swipe the card, stare blankly what a hapless hole you've dug yourself in what a hapless sack of rotting skin so easy to escape, so impossibly engrained the numbers and letters spread like germs spill into your blood and become your own you see the spill yet miss the army  you sign your name yet miss the meaning you wash your face and remove your socks because it's really all you can do.

Her gown, it fell from the tallest tree it was grayish white, glowing with an angel’s tinge but now was rooted in the earthly murk and the rainfall had tainted it’s heavenly look It was found by herself on an overcast day in the same place laced by the fairy pond; a flowing vale where the spring was spent scribing on pages in the sun.

And know in your heart and your mind that it's ready that you’ve taught it to speak like the other one can that you’ve lifted it up and transcended the beast turning this dog back into a man.