white ink tattoo…i want one

i l0VEEE this dress. if i still had a prom to attend, this would be mine

Festival of colors in India: so cool

This is just so beautiful. It reminds me of the way I used to look at snow as a small child. My fingers and toes could be freezing off beneath my bright colored puffy snow jacket and I would still be infatuated with the simplest of things. To be specific, this reminds me of a time I played until long after dark at the side of my house in Fresh Meadows. I was so cold and wet but didn’t care, I was enthused, ecstatic with this freezing white gift. Dodging the pale yellow spots of snow, my mother called me from the window asking me to come in for dinner. I smelt supper. It was time for me to dry off and eat with her.

(Source: jodeenbean)

 A  very cool concept. Things I used to spend my nights thinking about beneath the stars. This image is a statement to all, proving that we do not know what everyone ‘thinks’ they know. This image speaks for itself; wonder and awe.

(Source: an-atlas-in-hand, via martha-inc)

Lol. This reminds me of a time me and my best friend shared. A long, period of time that eventually died over the years. I try to imagine which on of us is Gerald in this image, and which one of us is Arnold. I’ve come to the conlclusion that we are both Arnold and Gerald at the same time; that this image does not serve our friendship as two separate beings, but embraces our relationships as one. I miss and love who you used to be, who we used to be. Shit happens.

(January_’12)

(Source: daaaanielle, via martha-inc)

Amber Moon

  This reminds me of day I spent that turned into night. Two days, to be specific. On the first, I spent on a beach in Asbury Park. Supporting the one I cared for in his musical pursuits, I stood there drinking beneath the colorful lights with my best friend Martha. We continued to the shore in pairs after his set. The four of us sitting down with a water bottle of something strong in our hands. A beer and some vodka in a harmless rotation was interrupted by a force foreign to most teenagers: the police. They searched us, and gave Dom a ticket, but that didn’t hold the night’s significane anyway. What was significant, substantial, about this particular evening, is that it held a mirror before my eyes.  A mirror that reflected the past, and one that foreshadowed what future events might come. As I sat cradeled between Mike’s arms, watching the amber moon rise above the black sea into an even blacker night, I realized that it was year since I was in this exact place, with the same person and very different longing. This time around, we conversed about amble things, appreciating the world around us for what it was; the mystery that it’s beauty held. While I was consuming all of this, he was consuming me- pondering the mystery that my beauty held. I did not care though, and I don’t know why, for a year ago I would have kissed the ground he stood on if he gazed upon me in such a way.  What changed? Was it the person I am? Or was the mystery behind his beauty revealed? That may have been so. He is as beautiful a person the day last year on the beach, but this time I admire a deeper beauty; a deeper beauty that cannot correspond with mine. 
The mirrors in the sky of Asbury Park reflected a time with dark haired boy, crazed and nostalgic did it remind me. I was once devoted to a person I thought I knew, a year later ahe was devoted to a person he barely knew. The pink skies of Asbury Park held such sweet memories. The melancholy notion now saturated that place when I sat with him beneath an amber moon a year later. I know that the person I was that evening of the amber moon did not change because the mirror in the sky that night told me different:
It was August afternoon, warm and comforting, welcoming what mischief was coming later that day. I wait by my phone, eager to leave my house and see his face. Eager to recognize a difference in character, or to get to his for our encounter last time was so abrupt.
On a cruz last summer, Cody and I had rooms across from one another, aboarding a vessel from two different worlds; realities of strangers that  lived eight hours apart. The utter fascination that I took with his 6’3 self was a feeling that I have never felt toward any one in my life, I was completely infatuated. I assumed this feeling was mutual, though I could not believe it was real at the time, because our four day rondevau was something that not even a dream could bear. We watched the sun rise on the last morning, before we would depart and for what we knew, would never see eachother again, it was the most romantic experience I had ever held. The feeling that what we had was to only fill the voids of our memory enabled the essencce to feel that more true; we were forced to hold onto what we had left of eachother. In our embrace, I saw another mirror, one that reflected a destiny that two strangers could not arrange, ,but a fate determined by a chance that would bring us together a year and two months later. For nights I dreamed, days we planned, times we never shared until this moment. It was a year later that I was sitting by phone, waiting for the call in which his name would pop up and his voice would enter my ears.
“I’m here,” he finally said. I rushed out the door. He towered over me, as usual, I was a little disappointed in his presence. He needed a hair cut, and needed to shave. I got in the car and drove. We drove to beach not far from my house, the air could not have been more perfect. I was at the shore, and the sun was setting as bolts of orange lightening shot down to the sea. Wicked colors flashed before our eyes in the purple sky, one after the other we watched. I was infatuated more with the surrounding images around us  than the towering body parallel to mine this time. I was absorbed in his presence, for sure, but it was the aura inside that absorbed me this time. I loved him. I felt him looking at me, searching. Perhaps he was admiring me the way Mike did that night on the shore in Asbury. I do not know. All I know is that I gained something from having these two unplanned experiences, with two different people. The night of the amber moon and evening of the amber lightening reminded me of memories that foreshadowed these events. I realized that planning ruins the path of destiny, which is why the mystery in the beauty of the Amber Moon died, and the infatuation of the Amber Lightening thrives till this day. 

(Source: flickr.com, via martha-inc)