Effortless Ruminations

Hello Tumblr friends, 

I am back from my 2 month blog hiatus—

I realized 2 months ago that my creativity was growing increasingly dependent on whether people liked my work or instances where I compared myself to other writers. So I’ve still been on Tumblr reading all your works and being a spectator; i’ve enjoyed it.

It has been a sweet time to clear my head and fill my creativity with inspiration. I’ve been working a ton on my novel and it’s turning out to be good enough to motivate me to dedicate most of my writing time with it. More details to come…

But as of now I’m back inside the arena and stoked to grow as a writer and to continue to be influenced by all of you. 

Cheers. 

Do not go gentle into that good night, 
   Old age should burn and rave at close of day; 
   Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, 
   Because their words had forked no lightning they
   Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
   Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, 
   Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, 
   And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, 
   Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
   Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 
   Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, 
   Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. 
   Do not go gentle into that good night. 
                Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Art Walk | Downtown LA |

Made me think of Whiteleeaaf’s blog.

By far, my favorite piece from the art walk. Why so serioussss? (Taken with instagram)

“Of all human activities, writing is the one for which it is easiest to find excuses not to begin – the desk’s too big, the desk’s too small, there’s too much noise, there’s too much quiet, it’s too hot, too cold, too early, too late. I had learned over the years to ignore them all, and simply to start.” 

-Robert Harris

“I have the feeling that in the back of your mind there’s a little writer who writes while you’re doing other things”. – Neil Simon

It’s no surprise I’m up this early

Putting my glasses on

Reaching down for the open book with 

folded pages

from last night’s

Half-conscious reading and

drifting head motions. 

Wide awake—I read lines I wish I could highlight,

Lines that spark meaningful thoughts about life.  

I glance over and see you peacefully asleep—

Perhaps your resting mind is

stirring fascinating thoughts

I wish I could read

Just like this book;

Quietly shifting,

I hope you’ll awake soon, 

That your arms will be as open to me,

As this open book. 

“People always say how hard it must be to move from place to place. It isn’t.”

Through the dark green clearing, 

hung low limp weeds, 

That covered thicker foliage, 

Absorbing the holiest sun lit greeting,

Acute daylight replacing celestial nights, 

Patiently still, calling my loyalty,

Careless life awaits me—there! 

Up ahead! 

Ah! The glory that is this living ballad, 

A most glorious afternoon, 

Deplored by the narrow heath I know well, 

Chastising thoughts meander throughout my skin,

Farewell dark green, the sweetness of daylight,

Awaits me—there! 

excroosemoose:

Come to me,
Deposit your quivering
Into my arms;
Leave your investment
In the box,
The tears
On my shirt.

it hums

and 

it thrums—

at times,

it drums 

i punch it: BANG, 

i slam it: WAM;

hot to the touch, 

it’s insides rattle,

no way to stab it dead,

what a useless, 

voiceless

pee-C

Lost (Acoustic) | Coldplay

you might be a big fish in a little pond

doesn’t mean you’ve won

‘Cause along may come a bigger one

(via flickr/geetarooman)

A

         |closet|

case 

       agoraphobe—

I never 

set foot  

in 

plain

                sight—

a fear 

of      

     frantic

           ANTICS! 

rare California rain.