A Dream that I can Speak to You can tell the sun in his jealous sky that I will not succomb and let his rays beat me into the ground and roll over in self-pity. His heat may be fierce, but my movement is more and so I will dance in this, dance loud and proud. Each pore glistens with sweat, every pulse in my temple migrating south to send new,fresh blood to my aching muscles. Between my ribs, I feel the muscles contract, reminding me alot of squeezing the toothpaste out of it's container this morning as I scraped for that last little bit of minty gew. I pull back in retraction from the tightness in hopes that this will somehow tone and develop what ever skill it is that I am cultivating.


Plans to reorganize my room are on there way. Once roommate number 4 is out, we will cover the walls with black and white photographs and posters, as well as any words or symbols that we feel need to be enforced daily. As of right now, my corner reads "clean body, clean mind, clean soul", along with a newspaper article titled "hail to the Chief of Culture" (in mockery). A poster board still blank sits next to my desk with great ambitions of becoming cluttered with art and representations of life. I get very excited about decorating and although that may seem incredibly materialistic of me, I think it is beautiful, normal, and worthy of time to invest in the senses. By making this space more visually stimulating, appealing, and thought provoking, I am not only stretching the artsy side of myself (if possible), but also the intellectual side by making critical decisions about what says how to who and why. Got any pictures? I am thinking vintage, black and white, clean lines, foggy,...i see a city and a forest...um yes  ¶ 11:58 AM