fuckyourhipshit-blog

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Knock Knock....

Do you ever have those days where you just wish someone would step on you? Get in your face, cut you off, tell you to smile? Just so you'd have the chance to tell them to go f**k themselves? I am so tired of how serenely polite it is here. I know(?) that Philly will be different, but sometimes I worry that when I move there all I will be faced with is my own inauthenticity. Sometimes I worry that the best of myself is behind me. I worry all that's left is a shell that only knows how to accept the praise of others, and barely even knows that. Mouth gaping and smiling, catching every pretty word strangers throw at me. I lie awake at night, watching endless hours of nothing and everything, just waiting to be inspired like I used to.

Wondering if a cigarette will do it. 

An inside cigarette: smoke swirling around me, balanced so perfectly between my impossibly infinite fingers. Perched between the fingers that i find so beautiful and their own, that I wonder if anyone else notices. I want to be a character in a movie. I want to be myself and I want to be someone else and I want, I want, I want. I don't want to be lost forever but I can already feel myself slipping away in this very moment. Maybe I will find her tomorrow. Maybe I will find her in the inappropriate men who make me feel both alive and dead, everything and nothing, for reasons I can’t understand. Maybe I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (when have I ever?) and maybe that’s the most honest thing I’ve said all night (all my life?). Maybe if I torture myself with forced sleeplessness I will be tortured just long enough to feel free for one tiny fucking second. I’m gone but I hope I’ll be back.  

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Madness flooded my gene pool.

It surges through our veins, like radiation in The Pacific.

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Fuck you Xander

Are you serious right now? "I take these pictures to portray all the work that has been put in to become hot, to become desired." .....really?

Personally, I think that there is much more to life than just being hot and "desired". And I KNOW that there is much more to a woman than her body or physical beauty. You take pictures of these women because they have perfect boobs and butts and faces? That's why they're amazing? What ever happened to who they are as people? You made one, single reference to their "personalities", as you put it. Every other word was about their physical appearances. I'd love to hear something about these amazing young ladies that didn't have to do with their bodies. But, apparently that's all they are to you. That's why you photograph them. 

And really? All the work that has been put into being hot? Really? That's what you people spend your time doing? I love how, according to Xander, these women aren't going to the gym to be healthy and happy individuals...no they're just going so they can be thin and "hot", and so their "butt can look amazing" for that facebook picture. I guess that's all that matters. 

It's people like you who make millions of young women feel bad about themselves because they don't look like the girls you photograph or the models in magazines. It's people like you who promote sexism because you advertise, whether you know it or not, that the most important and interesting thing about a woman is her body. What makes it even worse is that you were trying to say something respectful and supportive for these women. If that's your idea of respect, then all I have to say is:

Go fuck yourself Xander.

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i'm always wondering about you, kido.

is this jocelyn??!!

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I ran into an old flame....

Some sparks slowly die,

and are put to rest in envelopes and photo albums;

collecting dust in the unvisited corners of one's mind.

While others never cease to ignite 

at the mere utterance of a name.

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All I've ever wanted to do was to love and be loved.

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Ain't it funny how someone can still manage to disrupt your life when they're not even a part of it anymore?

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*hugs* <(^.^<)

KISSES

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Are you depressed?

Yes

How long have you struggled with depression?

Never have we struggled. We have danced, slept, loved....she comes quiet and easy.

It is happiness with whom I struggle. She's a real bitch, she is. 

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It's like you're waiting to drown in a flood that hasn't even happened yet...

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I love your smile:

Born in a 6th story window 

a bathtub

a tool box

in the unvisited hours of the early morning.

You were delivered to the flood

like a rock in the riverbed.

A small child,

who never learned to swim.