(blah)

^^That's how everything feels today.^^

Just blah. Yesterday was a lot of fun at a theme park. Though I don't know what the theme was. Perhaps it was more of an amusement park with roller coasters, and Tilt-O-Whirls, and free falls. And then I spent the early evening at the little league baseball park. Actually I walked over to the tennis courts nearby because it was mostly quiet there. Plus there was a couple people I knew playing tennis, so I sat and watched.

Tennis is an interesting game. I think I'd play as a hobbie, but not as someone who joins a tennis team, and plays everyday, and all that. Tennis does interest me. I like watching people play, not on TV, but in real matches.

Then after that, I came home and IMed people 'til late in the night. I don't remember exactly what time it was, probably between 2 and 4 in the morning.

Then I woke up today, and it's just been...boring. Like I should be asleep, but i'm not tired. Or like, I should be writing a song, but I have no words or inspiration.

So i'm sitting here, listening to Norah Jones because it's mellow, and it just reflects my mood. The windows in this room are open and it feels very good outside. Like the way summer nights in Indiana should feel. I'm thinking I'll go out and take some dark/night photographs. But before I do that I should finish the pictures that I've written on the back of my hand for the past 20 minutes. There's just something interesting about a blue-checkered heart.

Hangars Vides

Hangars
Vides

Empty hangars
Your last chance has just flown away
And I can’t help but stare
Until there’s nothing in sight
Except your heart in the sky

Picture-less frames
No one is quite sure what it means
But it stays on the wall
Like a memory I should’ve had
That would keep me away

Now it’s time
To paint over this wall in my mind
And over your name and fate

The songs written
From yesterday’s lies
Let it spread like fire
And from out of the ashes come truth

Now you’re alone
With nothing but the photograph
You stole
That told you the truth
Of the wall, and your heart in the sky

The Long Ride Home

8 hours is far too long to ride in the back of a car with your brother, but it's just enought time to stare out the window and reflect on the week and a half you spent away from home.

As of now, i'm back home. Enjoying some nice down time, until the rest of life catches up with me. Maybe just spend sometime writing, and taking pictures, and talking to people that I've missed for a while.

One thing i'm very excited about is Underoath has a new song online. I'm listening to it at purevolume. It's awesome. I can't wait until they're new CD, "Define the Great Line," which comes out 6-20-06.

Wow. Don't I sound like a walking advertisement?

Not that you would want to know...

...but I probably won't be around for the next few days. heading south...again, probably spending about a week there. Which is possibly disappointing for some people, but i'm okay with it. I'll be leaving tomorrow. So I'm just letting you know.

Now then, why I really wanted to post. Over the weekend I came into possesion of a Asahi Spotmatic by Pentax. I googled it and it seems it's at least 30 years old, and as far as I know the person I got it from has had it since the 80's. Now with that said i'm still learning how to use it, and luckily it works with 35mm film. I only wish I knew how to develope the film myself. If anyone knows anything about that please tell me, or give me a link or something. I would be very appreciative.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair,we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
(The opening paragraph of The Tale of Two Cities)
by: Charles Dickens

Fads and Heresy

Right so i've fallen insanely behind on posting any songs or poems, maybe it's because I wrote a lot when I wasn't updating a lot, and now i'm barely writing at all. I wrote this song (I call it a song, but it'd more like some abstract writing set up in a musical/poetic way) back in early March. It's the first song in a certain notebook, which for future references will be known as the Gray Notebook. I hope you enjoy it.
____________________________________________________________________

• Fads and Heresy

Rain falls on stained-glass windows
The saints sit in silence
While the preacher takes the stand

To be more than a memory
Of the days to come
Lost amongst the books and music
And fads and heresy

Come Monday-morning nightmare
Is the remnant of Sunday’s thunderstorm
And echoes of last weeks controversy
A whisper arises amongst the saints
And breaks the stare of the stained-glass window

To be more than tomorrow’s memory
Sometimes your best bet
Is to be last week’s controversy

Need Your Help...

Okay, so I took this photograph of the inside of an old shed. I made 2 copies. One in original color, and one in black and white. Okay, so where I need your help is deciding which one is better. So yeah, tell me what you think.

Color

Black and White

Next October

White lights flash from every side
Trying to hide the notion, you’re still alive
Your last letter written in ink
And mascara filled tears stained every page
The envelope sealed with a goodbye kiss
And on the inside was a faint scent
Of your perfume
The one I remember from everyday past
When we were standing close or lying still
Under the great oak tree in late October
I remember as the sun hit the falling leaves
And shone through branches filled with orange
Like the color of fire
It brought out your sky blue eyes
That’s all gone now
Now I’m receiving the letter you sent 3 weeks ago
I tried to hide
As I promised never to be found again
Nevertheless, I still hold this same name
The one you’ve known all along
And I prayed everyday that you wouldn’t forget to write
You sent this letter by an angel carrier
An angel that carried these words through a world we could’ve left behind
A trench of warriors, and poets, and prophets
Where I find myself to be like them
Set apart, lonely
And where my hope lies in there still being a fiery oak tree
And that the sky is still as blue as your eyes
And that you’ll be standing at the old glass window when I return home
Next October