28.1.14


DO NOT(!):
-Unplug (see The Walk (short)(I can touch it from here, and only from here. Connected. Plugged in. With music streaming live. Electricity. Phone charged. Internet up. My father on the other end, knowing. Yes. I can touch it from here. I can touch you. I’m not afraid of you; from here I am not afraid of you ever again. As I prepare to go home for the 3(rd) time in one year, this time to stay, I know I couldn’t do it any other way. I couldn’t write it. Couldn’t speak it. And I must, to survive; To keep my blood blue. ...the movement of little women. We are strong, but we are a fragile package making its way north, where poetry still adorns the lips of love. I can write from here; yes, amongst crystals and electric people; but of life (y punto)

                                                                  --Arte





Closing the door now (Thank you, Stephen! [On Writing]). Up next: A Grammy Sermon, --Arte



!Muah!

24.1.14


I am missing Madrid right now. Mmm (closes eyes). Madrid. God I loved living there. Loved it because I hated it so much. It pushed me so far (to the edge). And I survived. How could you not love a place like that? A place that you suffer so much you stop enjoying it; start living as a hobby to keep from blowing your brains out. One day, is better than none. Take your Saturday and don’t numb yourself(!), do what scares you! Shake yourself up a bit; Get those snow globe flakes to fly! Look yourself in the mirror and say “I’m going to be honest today.” And do it! (Just make sure you do it happily!) Go to the top of the mountain and really scream! Until the relief is REAL! Until you, are real. Then breathe in and out for the first time since you were probably a kid. Then thank the sky that you're still alive!
Then, most importantly,
       laugh about

            ALL

              of it

                        <3 --Arte  



P.S. I miss you, Madrid. I really do. See you hopefully next summer!

Writing Party (uma)


It’s 7am in Chicago. Why does that make me smile?

love you into becoming.

George Carlin just told me to write it in ink & in blue. Sir-yes-sir!

Thank you so much that I haven’t lost my sense of humor!

I keep feeling for my fro man, this is bad!

No one’s listening, so I’ll write.

I’m struggling in front of everyone.

Is it legal to think?

I have to practice what I’m supposed to do everyday.

I can’t believe I’m still alive!

Do not hide healthy!

--Arte

23.1.14

love you into becoming.

                                  --Arte

14.1.14

The pinecone reigns!

                                       -arte