Summer & Autumn

500 DAYS OF SUMMER is real. To the writer it's real. To the viewer...ME...it's real. He was Summer. YOU are my Autumn: the only season that matters.

mother do you remember.

We will rise.
Why is everything so trivial?...So insignificant?
I think Brutus was foolish for killing Ceasar. He did not gain a thing.
Some people consciously run from what could be good for them...others just don't know it's there...most couldn't care less...few take action...so which are you?
I seek what I can't have from those that won't give it me. It's something I can't escape.
A puzzle I'd like to put together is my father.
Mother forgive me I sold the car for the shoes that I give you.
mother remember being so stern with that boy who was with me?
daughters can be birds flying over the mountain.
mother i lost it all from the fear of the Lord I was giving.
Mother remember those pups cradled in our drawer covered in blankets?
mother remember reciting our prayer to the God we believed in together?
mother do you remember those melodies we sang about our pets?
do you remember your love of
Can there be a God who could take away such a person? Why would they hurt her...and let it resonate everytime I breathe?
I'll give my all because she never got a chance.
Music is what keeps my soul sound. Melodies heard in the still of the night feeds my body.
Trying to satisfy everyone is the worst think you can ever do. It will never work.

Moon is real

Moon was real...or at least she knew a lit flame would illicit pain. She was not sad, nor was she happy. Moon was incomprehensible to others; she slightly basked in this glory she inadvertently had yet she also resented its perpetual nature. A wish she sometimes hoped for was to be more approachable and less tangled. Even so, her thoughts were never placid yet her demeanor rarely reflected it. They were often raging so much that it was almost like a largely dynamic calm...almost soothing; to be some sort of dissonant silence. The credibility of her sanity often came to mind. Or maybe, she felt everything too much. She felt close to broken people. Fate wasn't something she seeked solace in...though she knew some things were meant to be more than others. She committed so many sins with the best of intentions, even throughout the act. She loved sincerely and secretly never completely let go of anything. She sometimes feels alone in a crowded place. Moon never likes...her capability runs from indifference to love without a bridge connecting the two.

Moon was real. She loathed conversing about the things she's in love with. She thought speaking of them cheapened their value; that they somehow seemed less important when trying to explain their golden nature. Perhaps this was a warped rationale. Moon was aloof.

Alone, she had no inhibitions because she did in fact care of others judgment. She knew everyone did as well, though pride won't permit mention of it. Was Moon alone in her endeavours? Was there a point in even having an endavour? Who cared? Who actually felt excitement in her hopeful success? She wants it all from you and all others because she can give her ALL as well. We are nothing without the grace of another's presence, though she sometimes forgot this fact. She knew she was her own biggest thief.

Moon was real. She chose those around her wisely; often she gave them everything. Her actions weren't to boost self-worth, they weren't to breathe easy. They weren't to fill to her quota for a ticket to Heaven....she knew some simply deserved it all. Everywhere she ventured, a melody led her steps. She thoroughly believes in the soundtrack to people's lives. Moon knew love when she saw it. She seldom talked about it; she didn't like those who promiscuously spoke of it. Love paralleled religion, the only difference is that love is real. It is by no means limited to thriving between people. Moon saw beauty in the slightest of movements. She enjoyed people's mannerisms...their minute characteristics. She saw so little but felt so much. One could mistake that for a burden because sometimes, she just wanted to feel nothing. She feared death and eternity...simultaneously.

However, loneliness was her most paramount fear. She couldn't comprehend normality.
She liked the unknown but craved hints; they made her ponder while providing a chance to create a logical possibilty based on thought alone. Moon doesn't see the gap between love and its polar opposite.

She liked branding herself on other's souls. She hoped to never be forgotten. She is stubborn. She is like a gargantuam, layered, intricate, lush oak tree. She is more than you'll ever bargain for and quite a feat to detangle. The past makes the present. She looks like any other girl except....she isn't. She knows many days of the year are uneventful, not worthy of recalling though she begs to differ. Every day, there is something new. It's a small journey, a heartache, a smile, a new memory, a new piece of furniture added to the giant room in her brain...nothing is nothing and everything is everything. Nothing is everything. Have patience. She teaches and learns with too much humility.

Moon is real. There were many other moons, other little planets revolving bigger planets--but really, there is only one MOON called the MOON. The sun indirectly pulls her...with a large being in between her and the sun. So the question is, who is her Earth? Who is her gravity?

It is the entity that fights all my trials

Love is kind and patient.
It writes the lyrics to its own melody.
It is neither bitter nor mean.
It can be hurtful at times, almost heart-wrenching
…but it is that which makes it trudge along.
I am often alone in my endeavors but can never fully say why.
Perhaps it is the fear that people are fleeting and no one will remain.
Why is it that parents sometimes cause regression rather than progression in their children?
Could it be their fears of seeing their children soar higher than they themselves?
Is it their own insecurities projected onto their little ones?
Maybe they simply aren’t acquainted with one another…
It’s a mystery equivalent to the strangeness of the universe.
I accept my misfortunes because they come when I least apprehend them.
Yet, happiness never seems to leave my body. It is the entity that fights all my trials.
I was told that I must change or I will watch my happiness dwindle…they told me I must NOT be alone in my endeavors, that my army of happiness needs backup and those must be other people. I was always a firm believer in facing things alone and never asking for help because those are signs of weakness but I can’t seem to disregard the strong advice I was given. This person has told me they do not need me because they’ve got tens of genuine, wholesome friends…some of them already deemed unnecessary. I was told by them that I myself, in fact, need them and I can no longer stay solitary.
Maybe, sometimes, I have to ask for help and hope they’ll still be there when I can reciprocate the favor. The question is, do I have such people? I am hoping so.
In times like these I miss my mother even more.
Regardless…I cannot help but be happy…in a contemplative mood.





In Our Darkest Hour
In My Deepest Despair
Will You Still Care?
Will You Be There?
In My Trials
And My Tribulations
Through Our Doubts
And Frustrations
In My Violence
In My Turbulence
Through My Fear
And My Confessions
In My Anguish And My Pain
Through My Joy And My Sorrow
In The Promise Of Another Tomorrow
I'll Never Let You Part
For You're Always In My Heart.
top: Francisco Goya. A sick Spaniard who bled awesome.
middle: Claude Monet. The coiner of Impressionism...or rather this painting began the era. OHH LOOK AT THE LUMINOSITYYYYY.
Bottom: Monet.... it's just so rich in deep, warm colors that calms the soul in the mess of strokes.

ART & MUSIC MAKE MY LIFE.