we sent out the s.o.s call. it was a quarter past four in the morning, when the storm broke our second anchor line. four months at sea. four months of calm seas, only to be pounded in the shallows off the tip of montauk point.

they call 'em rouges. they travel fast and alone, one hundred foot faces of god's good ocean gone wrong. what they call 'love' is a risk, 'cause you will always get hit out of nowhere by some wave and end up on your own.

the hole in the hull defied the crew's attempts to bail us out. and flooded the engines and radio, and half buried bow.

your tongue is a rudder, it steers the whole ship. sends your words past your lips or keeps them safe behind your teeth. but the wrong words will strand you, come off course while you sleep. sweep your boat out to sea or dashed to bits on the reef.

the vessel groans, the ocean pressures its frame. to the port i see the lighthouse, through the sleet and the rain. and i wish for one more day to give my love and repay debts, but the morning finds our bodies washed up thirty miles west.

they say the captain stays fast with the ship, through still and storm. but this ain't the dakota, and the water's so cold. we won't have to fight for long.

this is the end.

this is the calm.

we are the risen.

after the storm.

rest in the sea.

washed up on the beach.

this story's old but it goes on and on until we disappear. calm me and let me taste the salt you breathed while you were underneath. i am the one who haunts your dreams of mountains sunk below the sea. i spoke the words but never gave a thought to what they all could mean. i know that this is what you want. a funeral keeps both of us apart. you know that you are not alone. i need you like water in my lungs.

this is the end.

...you never do see any other way...

"We are observers to our past, and through time the memory of our history changes as we change. When Robert M. Pirsig set out on his motorcycle journey across America with his son, Chris, and a couple, John and Sylvia, he wasn’t interested in the destination, but in the discovery along the road. He was investigating the history of someone who he once was; someone he had forgotten and was no longer, Phaedrus; his severed personality. Seeing everything around him; revisiting his past, Pirsig found his memory of who he once was. And as he investigated deeper and deeper he learned of who Phaedrus was to the people he once knew, and of his words that matched each terrain, recalling him of Phaedrus’ studies and later, of his insanity.

I am searching for shades of myself, investigating my past, and finding captions that speak for each moment I had forgotten. Instead of a motorcycle, I use my feet for this journey; searching the terrain that surrounds me for my past self that has so rapidly changed over the course of half decade. And like the glass chamber that filled the dream of Phaedrus, I am only an observer to my history; completely powerless to influence change. But it is our history that makes who we are today, and it is who we are today that makes who we are tomorrow. Through my own investigation, I am reading old journal entries, and biographical fiction I wrote in different times of my life. My words will find themselves on windows of places that hold a certain memory, and after they are documented they will remain as mementos to remind me of this act as well as to engage to others who pass by. The sceneries behind these windows will be out of focus like the memory of the captions have faded through time, becoming less clear and less real.

I was searching for my history, and I was learning who I was through my past, but I discovered my future in the process as I started a history with someone that was right in front of me this whole time."

- artist statement from 'Reminiscence' by Brendan George Ko

...i'm wired on caffeine but it is so fucking refreshing to see a well-written, passionate artist statement to accompany beautiful work.

to do

comeback kid, title fight, counterparts, the carrier - march 31

crystal castles - april 2

born ruffians (for a third time....) - april 16

beach fossils - april 20

mogwai - april 26

rural alberta advantage - april 29

manchester orchestra - may 16

sleigh bells, css- may 17

death cab for cutie (i will sell my organs for tickets) - may 18

living with lions - may 26

defeater, la dispute - may 27

tragically hip, sam roberts, the trews - june 25

arcade fire, mumford & sons, beirut - june 30

....clearly i have my priorities in order.

there are way too many times in my life where i feel my stomach twisting into knots and my hands going numb and my brain overreacting from god knows what and where my guts and my core and my heart and my entire being is feeling something that i can't explain. there are so many moments where i want to just hold someone's hand in the dark and spend forever trying to find the right words to explain what's going on inside my mind. trying to pinpoint emotions that i'm consciously aware of but i know cannot be described out loud. my writing has been lacking lately, in fact everything i'm doing has been, but that doesn't mean my mind isn't in overdrive. i promise i'll do something i'm proud of soon. soon. but as for right now, i've realized that sometimes i envy everything that takes up your time because i'd rather be the one keeping you up at night.

i know in my heart the life i lead now means more to this world, than any reward i may receive after death. i know this to be the truth. i refuse to sacrifice the life that i've been given in the hopes of something greater, when all i need is right in front of me.

if i could mark the words on your chest i would, with an x across your core and your heart strings tied around my finger. i don't ask for much but i want you to be happy. the year has been kind and i have you to thank for that. please remember there is always time to take a moment and breathe before you start reeling backwards. please remember that no matter how far away i go, i am always homebound. maybe not literally, but i'll always be there. i'm here.

i'll take the best of your bad moods and dress them up to make a better you 'cause all the company calls amount to one paycheck

is sleep too much to ask for?

maybe it's not about the big picture, but rather about the moments in between. the half seconds between breaths, the even shorter periods of time when we blink, escaping the visual world for mere moments. maybe it's about deciphering how long it would take to drive from one end of the country to the other, or how soon we can begin exploring our own infinite abyss. maybe it's about experiencing a million little lifetimes within this overwhelming one, ignoring the concept of a stagnant destination, but constantly getting lost in all of these tiny universes. learning everything there is to know, not about math or science, but about being human. learning to wear our hearts on our sleeves, learning how far we can wade into the water while still touching the soft earth with our fumbling toes, learning to see through the summer haze and into the sky and realizing how fucking big this world is. wanting to remain youthful, wanting to know what it means to truly feel awestruck, wanting to watch the stars burn, burn, burn, wishing we could touch them with our fingertips to understand the reality of everything. letting our open wounds bleed and bruise and scar because they are reminders that we lived spontaneously and loved recklessly and didn't forget a fucking thing.

i found you grieving in the grass. the sky bled watercolour blue. you seemed so simple, sure and sad. so i sat down to grieve with you.

you raised your hand to shield your eyes. i shifted left to block the sun. you crossed your legs and cleared your throat. i waited for your words to come.

but they slept soundly in your chest. they never made it past your tongue. so we sat silently and still. and thought about the things we'd done.

and all that people that we loved. and all the people that we'd wronged. i watched the years flash through your face. and i locked my anger in my lungs.

so every breath stung more and more. a wave of whips across my spine. a billion bees trapped in my chest. nails on chalkboard every time.

'til i watched your fingers sneak towards mine. i heard your breath go thin and short. i tucked your hair behind your ears. and watched your eyes dart back and forth.

and i sucked your lip and bit your neck. the trees were shaking at their roots. my angry arms felt cool and calm. and my cotton mouth was wet with you.

so we lay glowing in the grass. to watch the sun swap with the moon. to trade our future for our past. the present tense was all we knew.

i've been thinking recently about what it means to grow up. i'm been thinking about the little things. when things that were once natural and comfortable become lost. your mother's soft murmurs in the dark when you can't sleep. pulling tangles from your hair. never understanding the word 'patient'. suspended in a world of what is only nostalgia to us now. your soft skin tender to the touch, free of scars and flaws for the time being, only temporary bruises that change colour drastically overnight, astounding you every day. every day is nothing more than a day, the past has been forgotten, and the future is light years away. you are naive and you are vulnerable and you are as delicate as lace, quietly passing over fingertips, unaware of the possibility that in the future you will become aware and you will become rough and you will become exhausted and you will become broken. but please, do not look at this as a destination you want to avoid. through all of the bellyaches and heavy moments, you will become strong. you will look at the boundless sky and at the burning stars and you will know how it feels to be alive. you will learn patience, maybe, and you will plunge deep into an illuminated atmosphere, lit by beautiful people that you will surround yourself with. never let them go. moments are fleeting, and you are growing up, and you will become complex and unfamiliar, but wherever you go, leave a mark. i have always tried to leave a piece of myself wherever i go and i only hope you do the same. you are growing up but i hope your inner child remains.

everything is falling and i am included in that.

• at least six creative pieces of writing (length is not important, as long as they're fucking good and mean something to me)
• at least six portraits relating to said writing (plus organizing who i am shooting, when i am shooting them, how i will acquire film in the extremely near future, etc.)
• a motherfucking science essay due in a little less than two weeks
• a log of how often i use any form of media due next week (which shouldn't take long to write, i'll just jot down 24/7 and leave it at that)
• an overdue proposal, three more essays, a reflection
• approximately four films to catch up on, as well as at least five lectures i've missed
• all the while still determined to get a job, shoot things i am happy with, read a lot, reteach myself how to read music and play the piano again, potentially learn guitar, and never go to sleep mad

starting... now.

i don't know what you expect from me and to be quite honest i don't even care anymore.

this is messy and disorganized and confused but so am i.

sometimes i feel things that i can't describe. it's warm in this room and my head hurts and i can hear the dull undertone of the air circulating through this empty house and although i can feel all of these things, i know there is something else there. something bigger than this bed i lay in, something bigger than my two hands can hold, something bigger than my brain can fathom.

sometimes i think of how small i am in such an infinite universe and it hurts but at the same time it's comfortable knowing that out of everyone in the world i can't be the only one who feels this way. i can't be the only one who feels that my thoughts consume me to the point of exhaustion. opinions and notions and ideas delicately float through my brain, soft and fleeting. i try to touch them with my fingertips, but they dance away. i can't grasp what they say, i can't grasp what they mean. all i hear is an echo of what was but never will be. these feelings overwhelm me. they devour me.

and now they've made me realize. we are temporary. we can plunge into our thoughts and we can pick apart our brains as much as we want but nothing lasts forever. we are temporary and our thoughts are an accumulation of broken glass and dust that will be swept under the rug to be replaced by something newer and brighter.

to not only feel a beating heart, but to understand its' purpose of being a muscle pumping blood through your veins. to not only count the bones in a ribcage, but to realize it is holding your delicate organs safe in your body. to understand the anatomy of a human structure, rather than just observing the skin everything resides in. to comprehend how so many fragments of flesh and limbs and bones and waves of complexities occupy a person. it is a beautiful thing and i love it all. even the things you don't like about yourself.

don't let yourself become disconnected from what matters. you are here, and you are alive, and you have a functioning heart, and a beautiful mind, and although there are flaws, please remain hopeful. everyone hurts. tragedies strike our lives, and we will become flimsy and weak and our bones will decay, but for now we have hope. let your callouses grow strong and tough in your skin but don't let them consume you.

if this year would just end i think we'd all be okay.

i watched you in the dark as salty tears stained your cheeks and my heart broke a thousand times over. words are not enough sometimes but my foolish mouth gets the best of me. sometimes all we need is human contact to make the pain subside for at least a moment or two. although my inhibitions took over, my intentions were in the right place. i often wonder why bad things happen to good people. i'm peeling pigments of skin in hopes to find the answer running through veins but i'm just feeling raw. i'm looking under woobly feet and behind shaking hands but coming up empty. maybe it's the howling wind and the hooded faces walking five paces faster than we'd prefer. maybe it's these cold months tragically dragging on leaving our hearts vacant and our skin tender. but i don't know. i don't know.

if discovering yourself is what this place is all about, why do i feel like i'm losing who i am?

"i'm getting tired of being told to live in the moment, when all i want is my bed and the sound of the ocean."

these words are for you. i hope someday you understand what they mean. i hope one day you love things the way that i do. i hope someday that you understand how it feels to love something wholeheartedly and with intent. i hope one day you learn to figure out the spaces between the stars and between your fingers and between the ridges in your ribs. i hope one day you breathe in the air i breathe and feel the same comfort and simplicity that i feel. i hope you appreciate the almost-moments of sweet nothings. i hope you take the fleeting moments in this life and hold them close in your heart, in your hands, in your mind. i hope you run after what you want and i hope you run smack into what you're looking for. these words are for you. these words are for anyone who needs them. we all need something to look forward to. these words are for you.

i like:

• stretching after sleeping.
• anticipation.
• late night cereal.
• big windows that open up the whole way without a screen in the way.
• trees in straight lines while driving down a country road.
• freckled noses and shoulders.
• scars.
• miniature versions of things.
• the sound a hasselblad makes when you press the shutter.
• streaky clouds across a bright sky.
• watching bruises change colours and fade as the days go by.
• being a recluse after spending a lot of time with people.
• getting happy drunk off white wine.
• new pens.
• dipping a brush in a brand new can of fresh acrylic paint.
• the moon in the sky in the middle of the day.
• seeing someone run in high heels, and hearing them continue past you.
• peeling a clementine in one piece.
• citrus smells.
• bloopers on live news.
• waking up late on a sunny day with someone you care about.
• list making.
• running really fast down a hill.
• time lines in history class.
• swings.
• trampolines.
• old copies of life magazine and national geographic.
• knowing the meaning of words.
• long hair.
• heavy sighs.
• the perfect shuffle while on public transportation.
• falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.
• the smell of the ocean.
• the moments of excitement right before a band comes on at a show.
• the squeaky noises an acoustic guitar makes.
• finishing a roll of film.
• freshly cut grass in the summer.
• old mix cd's from grade nine.
• day old birthday cake.
• treehouses.
• long shadows while the sun is setting.
• never making your bed.
• reading a book in bed with rain lightly hitting the window.
• realizing mistakes are okay.
• kisses on the shoulderblades.
• watching people's hands move while they talk.
• collarbones and shoulderblades.
• winning a game of solitaire.
• discovery by touch.
• the constant sound of running water and the strong smells of chemicals in the darkroom.
• old, decrepit skateboard decks.
• being at a beach in the winter, covered in snow instead of sand.
• swearing when you're really mad and feeling good about it.
• underlining eloquent sentences in books that stand out to you.
• learning about odd but interesting things like serial killers and personality disorders.
• half an hour before the sun rises.
• understanding.
• metaphors.
• believing in yourself or something or someone.
• long car rides.
• getting goosebumps for a good reason.
• breakfast for dinner.
• vegetarian sandwiches.
• eating food that stains your lips.
• the rush of jumping from a high place, or off a diving board.
• minimalistic things.
• abandoned places to explore.
• asking "would you be my friend if...?"
• other peoples rooms.
• fleeting moments of connection between strangers.
• planning dream vacations with someone you care about.
• sleeping in unexpectedly comfortable places.
• nighttime revelations.
• honesty.
• possibilities.
• spontaneity.
• liking someone even when they're far away.
• wide open spaces.
• how all rest stops are the same even though they're spread out all over the world.
• the way everything sounds when your face is half underwater.
• spiral staircases.
• the transition of seasons.
• actually feeling something when looking at a piece of art.
• uncontrollable laughter.
• exposed brick walls in rooms.
• feeling safe in dangerous situations.
• seeing people smile to themselves when they don't think anyone is watching.
• forts.
• rooftops.
• getting mail, or sending letters.
• world maps.
• summer nights lying in grass, or on the hood of a car, or on a road, looking at the stars.
• watching someone play the piano or guitar.
• singing embarrassingly loud when no one is home.
• late night secrets.
• when songs aren't separated into choruses and verses and everything flows.
• wandering through museums.
• beds that are really low to the ground.
• comfortable breezes through windows on days you're expecting to be colder than they are.
• sweating for good reasons.
• letting your brain shut off while doing yoga.
• imagining life stories of strangers you have never met.
• buying tickets for shows and holding the proof you're going in your hand.
• kind knees.
• cooking for people you care about.
• waking up to noises from outside, rather than an alarm.
• high ceilings.
• jazz music.
• iceland.
• you.
• seeing a surprisingly good movie in theatres.
• delirious conversations had moments before falling asleep.
• day trips.
• digging your toes into cold sand.
• realizing something is cheaper than you thought.
• shady spots on hot summer days.
• the excitement of a huge canvas and endless possibilities.
• when eyes change colour.
• flannel.
• falling asleep beside someone and hearing nothing but your in sync breathing.
• comparing sizes of hands with people to see how different we all are.
• calculating distances between places.
• thin wrists.
• the tingly feeling when someone runs their hand up your ribs or back or arm.
• glaciers or mountains or bodies of water that make you realize how small you are in the world.
• nostalgic feelings.
• any kind of berry.
• short fingernails.
• vulgar senses of humour.
• worn-in shoes that have been everywhere with you.
• the human anatomy.
• sincerity.
• making my grandmother laugh.
• accepting and welcoming change.
• morning sex when you're still kind of sleepy and your hair is a mess.
• gasoline rainbows.
• wondering how long it will take before a balloon pops once you let it go.
• comfortable uncertainties.
• forgetting about time.
• wondering if your life really does flash before your eyes when you're about to die.
• using semicolons properly.
• crunching leaves under your feet in the fall.
• sharpening pencils.
• when a movie subtly mentions the title, in a clever and intelligent way.
• falling in love with words, and music, and moments.
• waves crashing into huge rocks.
• making toast to absolute golden perfection.
• singing everything from justin timberline to elton john to norah jones in the car with my dad.
• super nintendo.
• the perfect contact sheet still warm from the processor in the colour darkroom.
• how everyone has a 'spot' in their house to hang out with friends.
• delicate lacy bras.
• that night we laid in the grass on the golf course and cried and laughed and the sky opened up.
• comfortable silences.
• filling out forms and doing surveys.
• crackling bonfires.
• oversized t-shirts.
• jumping into a perfectly serene and still body of water.
• not realizing that, until writing this, every little thing is beautiful.

"i'm getting better but it's in small steps. i'm working on sleeping on the left."

without being too smooth-tongued or using elegant and descriptive language, i suppose it just comes down to being so fucking comfortable with you, anywhere, at any time, in any place. you were right, i do sometimes underestimate how much you like me. but at times like that, with light rain drops on the windshield and the glow of the headlights reflecting on the wet cement, and your hand on top of mine, i know we're right where we want to be.

i'm not sad anymore, i'm just tired of this place.

i need to stop complaining. fuck, my prof hates me and told me to my face that i know nothing. so what? a shark didn't bite off my arm.

negativity will get me nowhere.

i wish there was an eloquent way to say that i'm mad for no reason and i just want to disappear for awhile.