Project.

"Industry and utility are the angels of death who, with fiery swords, prevent man's return to Paradise. . . . And in all parts of the world, it is the right to idleness that distinguishes the superior from the inferior classes. It is the intrinsic principle of aristocracy."


The flaneur's tendency to observe is what sets him apart. Being juxtaposed between distance and involvement. He is a part of it, although he steps aside to critique. He loathes, he loves, he is not sure whether he is aroused or disgusted by the sites around him. Today, the flaneur is not a cosmopolitan man from Paris. He is the blogger, the photographer, the graphic designer, advertiser, the DJ, the promoter, the musician, the guy on Twitter in the coffee shop. He is an armed version of the solitary walker reconnoitering, stalking, sampling the city. He is the voyeuristic stroller who discovers the city as a landscape of extremes. Despite the destruction around him, he chooses to view urbanity as picturesque.

We don't identify with what we don't know, but we are this. At least, this is what I am. I embrace self exaltation. I don't know what I am doing with it, but I know that I am doing it.

That's why I started this, after all.

Repeat.

Monday, December 29, 2008
Jupiter.

And as I sit here with an open suitcase in front of me I think about the things I choose to keep with me. The memories don't ever leave me. They haunt me like a skeleton in my closet that I push aside everytime I go in. I still have that bottle of red wine that we finished. Our lips were stained crimson, and we felt so warm. We would watch movies and liken the people we knew to the fictional characters. Nobody was ever real to us, just hearts and blood. I made you smoke your cigarettes in my shower because I didn't want the basement to smell like nicotine and tar. I'm sorry.

I remember so many parking lots and you never knew how beautiful you truly were. You never listened to me.

I don't know if they cared about you. I still get angry when I think about all those nights and that day.

So many faces I knew. I knew they didn't know. I knew they didn't feel anything inside. Their tears were not for the right reasons. He stood at the back so your mom wouldn't see him.

I wish I could have saved your heart.

Free right.

"Say it. Really, just get those words to come out of your mouth. My eyes are burning, my throat is dry,my lips are chapped, and I am done with wasting my thoughts on you."

"Fine."

"Go on...just get it over with"

"Forever is such an unpleasant word."

"Good. Now was that so damn hard? You remember that. Don't use those profanities around me again."

With my intentions at my best

Minutes > Me.

Like John Cusack and pop punk.

When life gives ya lemons

Fingers crossed.

I just want to show what I know.

Dead man, were you ever alive?

And I believe there is something here that was worth the weight. But I cannot love you. No, I cannot love you...no mistakes.