Random acts of poetry

Don't understand it
but I can't help it
And I kinda wish
that I never felt it
My heart-
yeah, it kinda melted
I play the cards
But look at who dealt it


Some things,
are best left alone
This taste
the sweetest ever known
Never give my all
but might give a loan
Try to catch the thoughts
searching and on roam
...


I swear I wish I had a band :)

Numero 129

Gertrud Hegelund for Numero 129
Hair by Shay Ashual

"...And I don't need a hook for this shiiiiiiiiiit"

A while ago I went on an Amazon book-buying binge and ended up with more works of literature on my hands than I had imagined.  Slowly but surely I'm making my way through my personal library and I'm finding that my most recent purchases are fucking perfs (Me-speak for 'perfect').

I've been chanting about this 'cleanse' that I feel I need to go on lately (mind + body +soul) so I bought Yoga Bitch and The 21-Day Cleanse.  My 24 year old self clearly enjoys the idea of cleansing, but actually practicing it is proving to be more difficult than I had planned.  Yoga Bitch was pretty good it inspired a newfound desire to go on a Middle Eastern retreat next year.  The 21-Day Cleanse is hardcore, bro.  Day one had me questioning everything I ever wanted in life and why. And I do mean that literally.

I've since moved on to I Was Told There'd Be Cake by Sloane Crosley and, whoa. The title itself is superfucking symbollic of some of the shit I've been going through lately.  Wannabe professionals, habitual liars, manipulating fuckwads- you name it and I can put a face with it. 

I come from the school of If You Don't Have Anything Nice To Say About Anyone... on the corner of Karma Avenue and Kill Them With Kindness Boulevard.

....However...

I have somehow took a detour down I Don't Give A Single Fuck Road and ended up here. 

Yet again, I've found myself victim of some supreme fuckery.  New Yorkers, I can't with you people.  You have tested me time and time again yet I always somehow find it in my heart to start again with a clean slate. 

Fuck it, I'm on one...Again. I have to let these things out from time to time so to keep the peace in my normal life.  Its like gas; if I don't let it out, it just might kill me.

Not for nothing, I Was Told There'd Be Cake is a collection of small essays from an imported New York chick that may have helped give me some unexpected clarity about the direction of this blog.

http://www.wix.com/pistolsandpetals/andrita