conversing with a headstone.

are you still writing?
I know you pricked your finger on the coffin hangnail, but has that meant anything?
life is a mess of exaggeration, so I'm not fully sure where to stand, lest I break something. then again, you never really held breaking things against me. did it ever bother you?
it would bother me.
I don't know if I can report good news or not. all I can say, is I'm still here - whether you like it or not, though I prefer to think you like it.

I'm alive still.
did you ever stop writing? I never could read that mixed handwriting of yours. too confusing, too cryptic. or so you may think.
right now, my soul has fret buzz. not that I mind, or that you care.

dear you,
do my changes bother you?
would it be love if you saw it?
you can be honest,
it's not like it's important.
my existence is mine to judge, can't you get over that?

is your grave clean?
do you get visitors?
would you care?
do you even have a grave?

are you dead?

when did you die?
why did you die?
do you even know who I am?

I wonder if we'd be friends if you weren't in a grave.
are you in a grave?

or is it just that you're so cold,
you may as well be dead to me.

would it be love?
no, you'd know it, especially
since you never have.

by the way,
get over it.

sex and art and sex. (and the number 42).

so I've been thinking.
but it hurt, so I stopped
and haven't posted much lately.

but that stops now! sorta.
I mean, it's not as though it really matters,
since this is mostly self-gratifying.. for now.
I do have readers, and people have talked
to me about this blog, which I appreciate
immensely.
anyway..

for one thing, first and foremost, I'm going
to talk about my grammar/typing habits real quick.
I usually spell everything correctly,
I pride myself in that fact, because I love words.
but it has been brought up to me that I don't
capitalize correctly, and format my blogs awkwardly.

to that I say, I don't care.
it's something I constantly shift between,
I realize full well it's improper, but the entirety of this..
experience?
isn't proper. it's just a mess, a mish mash, a gash of
my flooding thoughts and so on, and so forth, et cetera.

so yeah, back off my letters, hoe. ho? hoe. gotta be hoe.
urban dictionary says it's hoe, so.. safe. well, I say "safe".

anyway anyway anyway.
this has little to do with the original intentions behind the post,
being sex.. and art.. and more sex, obviously - if you read the title.



the first sex is irrelevant, I just thought double the sex might spice the post up.



I love art. drawing mostly, in fact I do the majority of my drawing in pen.
not good art pens, just really sharp tipped pens I have.
if I'd given any amount of attention to my drawing over the years,
perhaps I would have improved - if at least slightly.
so I've decided.. I'm going to draw every day, until I'm not awful.
not that I'm awful, I just tend to do crazy collage-style drawings
and I always feel like they have a very singular focus and I'd like
to do more than just that.
agh. blah blah blah, more arts.
might start posting a comic I've been considering about an abstract
bird and a little girl, using them as a medium to discover the intricate
details of life (namely the number 42 if we get right down to it).
anyway, that may happen at some point - or not. I haven't decided.

as for the sex - sex thing,
I've been watching Mad Men lately (up to Season 2) and I'm really
enjoying it. however what I've noticed in all these big budget,
uncensored television programmes is the prominence of sex,
and it's emotional misguidedness (not a word but whatever).
not that I'm booing sex at all, I'm just saying I feel a bit of a disconnect
when I see some of these scenes because when there's reasoning
behind the scenes it proves to make less sense that it would have if
they just decided "right then.. LET'S FUCK." and then fucked.
and typically all the scenes in Mad Men are result of promiscuity
and passionate urges - which causes no disconnect between me
and the characters. it makes sense in the show for it to happen.
BUT *spoilers-maybe-kinda-sorta-not-sure*
there's a scene where the main character becomes incredibly
helpless and seeks out the attention of a love interest for
sexual comforts. well.. I can't say that's TOO odd, and it's
probably me that's the odd one out, but I feel like when
a character in a show is having a crisis of emotion and identity,
the comfort they seek should be less sexual.
it almost felt like it shattered the perception that the character
is feeling weak, falling apart even, and instead of seeking
the arms of a loved one, it just kind of forces a sex scene
on the situation awkwardly.
if it were real life, I'd be like.. well the guys got a hard on, whateva.
but in a show, it's kinda like.. why does "hollywood" have to force
a seemingly great and emotional scene for the character into a
cookie cutter sexually masculine scene so it's like
"he's no bitch, he's gettin' pussy" or something weird like that.
now this is a half-rant, and seems totally baseless as I read back on it,
and I wouldn't argue it with this, but there is a disconnect in that scene
thanks to how the sex scene feels forced, and it bothered me.
it's like.. sure, sex is sexy, but if you ate ice cream whenever the fuck
you wanted you'd just get fat and lazy.
hm.

anyway.
art. gotta do that shit.

PS

there's this girl I talk to
she is the bomb
and quite funny

but she's mean to me,
she threatened to beat me.

the end <3