the giant cloudman

looks at me angrily, his long tubular nose pointing down at the little leather cushion i have placed myself on. i’m here because i have nowhere else to be; the power’s gone, my phone is at 32%, and i’m missing acting class as we speak.

giant cloudman is here because he has nowhere else to be too, only, he is the power, and tonight is his night to expend it all.

“shouldn’t you be asleep?” giant asks me in much coarser language. a bolt of lightning runs through his body, causing me to jump. i don’t doubt he smirked at that in the darkness.

“probably,” i reply.
“then shouldn’t you be bloody well at it by now?” giant cloudman is a rough brit, apparently.
“perhaps,” i say, tilting my head up to stare at the immense space of sky giant takes up. moly and mice, he’s huge. imagine him picking me up from my small spot in the roof to have a sterner chat. i’d both be dead from fear and insisting he fly me over to the moon, and then we’d have a talk about different levels in the atmosphere, and probably out of spite he’d reluctantly zoom me over to my sister’s flat in the states and i’d have to explain why i was wet and also with no other clothes except a tank top and some shorts (typical jo) and then i’d turn around to blame it on giant cloudman and he’d be gone already—

giant sighs. thunder echoes through the trees, and i nearly drop my phone.

“then why aren’t you?”
perhaps his first sympathetic question all night.

“i’m a creature of obstinance,” i begin.
“ah, don’t fool yourself dear, you jumped with that bolt of lightning.”
“well. yes. but i’m still here, aren’t i?”
“you shouldn’t be—“
“precisely! and so i am.”

is that the wind flapping back and forth or is giant shaking his head?

“you— you—“ he stumbles in his words, taking a good look at my hunched over appearance, trying to figure out the right words to address and scold me by.
“take your time,” i tell him. i reach out for some crackers in my other pockets and munch in his confusion.
“—you young… people make no sense these days.”
“didn’t you just form like, tonight?”
giant cloudman laughs in my complacent ignorance.

“don’t you know the saying? water has memory. and i,” he gets closer, rain starting to fall.

“i remember everything.”

i taste the rain and brush off a struggling ant off my leg as i look the giant in the eyes. “how’s that been like for you?”

he seems taken aback at my camaraderie. “tiring. very tiring. in such a short time this place seems to be getting worse and worse, thanks to fools like you.”
“tell me about it.” i munch on a another cracker.

there’s a volley of lightning that ripples throughout the sky, evoking purple and red and blue all at once in the lonely, young night. i cross my legs and watch as giant cloudman has conversations with his coworkers in the storm making business, and he eventually returns to me.

“you enjoy this stuff?” his brogue tries, but it can’t hide his confusion.
“he— er, heck yeah,” i say through muffled crackers.
“do tell why. i’ve never seen a child grin at lightning. are you mad?”
“oh, definitely,” i say. “it must be amazing to have such power. so… gah. so cool, so strong, so in control.”

i might’ve stoked his ego a bit. the giant gets louder. “ahh, and you wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

i stop.

“no.” i say honestly. “i would never know what that’s like.”

it’s the giant’s turn to stop.
“well… i’m uh, sorry,” he says gruffly. i don’t suppose he’s used to making apologies.

“you get used to it,” i tell him. i look around at the darkness around me and inhale. the power has been off for a while, and yet i’d rather stay here and have this little chat with a being that could potentially kill me given the right motives. i’m not sure what to make of that.

there are murmurs in the air as the storm people begin their nightly torrent, and giant man sounds quieter when he says “in all seriousness, you should go find some rest.”

i stifle a laugh. “hmmmm. that doesn’t happen for people like me. doubt you get any of it in your kind of work either.”

the giant almost smiles. or maybe that’s the sudden curve of electricity that runs through what i imagine is his mouth. “you’re observing. it’s people like you that can’t be left alone, you’d find out how the world works and try to fix all its broken parts.”

i would respond if he doesn’t immediately crouch down to where i am, the roof space around me getting darker and darker, and i’m about to back up against the wall when he whispers (well, rumbles, he is a cloud after all),

“don’t give that up now, alright?”

i manage to stutter. “i…”

he doesn’t have to get me to notice his quickly dissipating form, i can see for myself that it’s fading into the blanket of clouds that are coming to shred the sky with more electricity. it’s now or never.

“yeah, no, absolutely,” i say. “i’ll… i’ll keep… observing.”

giant cloudman drenches me in water. i imagine that’s cloud affection for ruffling someone’s head. “good. good then. i better be going.”

but then he turns. and stops. and turns back to me. “i never caught your name.”

“i never caught yours either,” i reply. “perhaps it’s not very important.”

giant cloudman doesn’t seem content with that. “then i’ll have to name you. let’s see… small, cocky, slightly tragic, i’m calling you little storm. farewell, little storm.”

he turns to leave, and as a goodbye i yell through the steadily pouring rain, “why little storm?”

giant cloudman keeps floating away, but his voice echoes in the next rumble of thunder that passes over me.

“because you’ve got a bigger one coming.”


low-angle photography of man standing on stone with arms wide-open statue

“i just want to be *Held”

“can you imagine *human touch*”

“i would kill for a *hug*”

the following was taken from the nsfw channel of a chaotic server i mod, which was created for discussing how to write murder and other dark topics but instantly veered from gory character motives to spoilering the desire to be able to interact with humans for comedic effect.

it’s been rough lately.

most of us haven’t gone out in months, myself included. most of us aren’t in the best of situations physically, mentally, or spiritually. most of us are anxious, and sad, and creating messy characters and plots and stupid jokes is how we cope. most of us are vibing. all of us are alone.

someone (who absolutely shredded me to pieces with a connected series THE PAIN) said it best.

“everyone’s baking and protesting, and we’re stuck here yearning.”

11 people instantly reacted with the f emoji.
to, you know, pay respects.

i mean, are they wrong?

i think about that, today, after waking up and showering and getting my favorite shirt and get a meal of crackers and salmon lox cream cheese. yearning. hhhhhh imagine that.

i’m listening to rend collective’s latest album and my chest (as foreign and dysphoric as it feels) is throbbing with… with relating. with singing. with truth. with desire and fear and so much yearing.

i haven’t talked much about faith as much as i have the world in which faith is so desperately needed, not because i don’t believe it’s not important, but it’s been so, so long since i’ve had any kind of community or sense of belonging– and not just with, like, faith, with every single intricate dang part of myself.

(oh hah guess what i’m writing about that talk about projecting babyy!)

and it’s like how can i claim to talk about truth and God and uhm, being a light when i’m literally in the darkness, you feel? but i’m sure you do. it’s july 2020, and we are all tired, and governments are not doing their jobs, and people are broken, and my goodness, how alone we must all be right now.

creation groans, and so we are literally crying for something more, for something real, for something true, to look into someone’s eyes face to face with no threat of disease stopping us, for justice to be served.

there are names and names and names of people who are gone and it’s not right and it seems like everyone is finally waking up and realizing how broken and wrong the world is and we’re yearning, crying, for anything right, and man, i have clue what to make of that. like, i have to take tutoring for algebra, i’m not mentally equipped for answers. i don’t think any of us are.

but we yearn to do something good anyway. but there are people right now chanting and learning and educating and fighting for right and they’re doing amazing and there are a bunch of people signing up to teach me and a bunch of other lost, nerdy kids how to sing, how to dance, how to dream this summer, there’s stars and there’s sun and there’s a spotify playlist that is streaming truth and beauty and goodness and how, how can anyone look at this world and not realize what it could be, what it was meant to be?

my God really made some amazing things, and yes, they’re so messed up now, but even with their serious flaws they’re beautiful. that is wild. that is so wild. can you not feel that?

if the hate that fueled all these horrible people (read: all of us) to do what we’ve been doing for centuries was replaced with hearts, with love, with holy sacred rightness, what would the world look like?

idk man, but it must be… beautiful.

so i’m here now, filled with a violent urge to create. and sing. and write and fight and scream and care. and to be cared about.

it must be only heaven where one can be at peace and to be among peace.

but if, through what i do and who i am and the amazing people i know, just a tiny bit of heaven can be brought to earth, well, it won’t take away the desire or the yearning.. but maybe rather, remind us that we’re not hoping for nothing. there’s something, there always was Something. and that’s faith fren.

i wish i could knock on the door of every person in the server, in my chats, in my neighborhood and tell them that. i only know how much i would die to hear those words said to me.

oh, and also *hug*. that’s very important.

~we are the strong, we are the brave, we are the dreamers, jo~

color outside every line

assorted-color Crayola crayons

i finished outlining today.

hhhhhhh! i did something today!

Starkid Rachael Soglin GIF - Starkid RachaelSoglin ICanFinallyLayDown GIFs

and you know what

it’s… not good.

there’s so many plot holes. i don’t have any of the characters fully fleshed out, the ending is somewhat anticlimatic, it’s messy and it’s me and it may never see the light of day.

and i think that’s like, that’s something that tends to run through every artist’s mind, you know? like instagram ruins our pictures, we miss a few dozen layers on a project, we hear a wobble in a cover of a song, and we sigh because it’s not good, it’s not right, it’s not perfect and it’s just pathetic and sad and us, which somehow makes it worse.

isn’t that sad? to be disappointed in the thing that makes us us?

i guess.

back to the outline. i don’t even know how much of it i’m actually gonna follow, you know? and like, i was battling a pesky mosquito that was attacking my feet while trying to decide the future of an imaginary person in an imaginary, broken world, and–

that’s not good. but it’s not bad either.

creation, as a concept and as a reality, as a process and a finished work, has always been messy. i think the only person who ever properly nailed a piece of art on the first try was God and like, look what happened to that. we just… messed it up. free will and what not.

and so, we’re left with this yearning for beauty and for substance, for validation and for acceptance, we put pen to paper and brush to paint and fingers to frets and we try and try and try and it’s just a little bit off, and somehow i suppose we feel a pang of disappointment that just pushes us to do better.

what if… the slightly off… is… enough…?

i don’t know what i was trying to say after that,

but it was gonna tie in to me looking over what little of a story i have and being like “hey, that’s actually kinda interesting.”

but catch me being coherent, right? ha. no.

can anything be truly perfect? no. people are mean. life is hard. the world is messy. there’s a literal virus spreading around. how can we demand perfection from ourselves when the whole of humanity has been trying and failing for like, at least a thousand years. maybe two thousand.

but yet we still stare at the moon through an atmosphere with a hole in one of its layers, and it’s like “oh, what a pretty moon” even if it’s the same one that’s been around since 2001. and we eat ice cream from walmart and still call it delicious, and who knows how much artificial food coloring is in that? and we look at a kid’s messy wax crayon drawing and we go “masterpiece! this is going on the fridge for at least a week!”

so i’m just thinking, perfection is not the source or the equivalent of good.

even broken humans need grace, right?

but that kinda makes it easier, to create art that is flawed and songs are maybe a little offkey. stories that maybe have problems but also bring a whole lot of comfort.

and i just think that’s so cool

that i can find someone’s hastily written work apologizing profusely for how messy and unedited it is and i’ll read it and i’ll be laughing and crying and saying “HEY COME BACK! YOU DID GOOD WITH THIS I LOVE IT!” and then it’s not just a messy work, it’s a messy, good work, and that makes all the difference.

i wonder if that’s a thing God did, before it all went south. to instill a sense of Good that isn’t swayed by brokenness? yes? no?


so, anyway. i finished my outline. and i have loads of expired chocolate and a computer that is dying every second it’s being used, in a world that cries for the thing that i’m now choosing to accept.


it’s kinda cool, really.

~i’m serious, let’s make a list, jo~

favorite discographies

it’s the month of writing. and death. and summer.

and music.

and thus, here we are.

(no i would never be able to take any of the following photos, creds to their site or to imdb)

Rob Simonsen Picture

rob simosen is cool. like, really cool. like life of pi and stargirl and love, simon and captive state cool. i first heard his work in gifted last year and it’s been a beautiful symphony of music since.

favorite recent listen: butterfly 1 (chu and blossom)

ryan o’neal, or as you all may know, sleeping at last, has been the composer of my childhood background music, summers, trauma, most of my life really. the work he’s done over the years is just really inspiring and mindblowing (a bunch of shows, films, and ads, atlas, the sleeping at last podcast, to name a few) and his covers and singles are just… hhh. amazing. i’ve been playing many beautiful things and atlas ii on repeat lately, it’s been great.

track that peeks into your soul: two

you should know who alexandre desplat is, he scored a few magical wizard kid films, and also little women. if you don’t, that’s okay, you’re probably familiar with a lot of his work through just classic cinema and maybe the academy awards. i find that interesting about certain artists; you learn to love their art before you even know who the artist is. it’s really fascinating.

best album to burn midnight hours to: probably little women, that’s a whole trip and a half.

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Never look back…📸 @officialmvidesphotos

A post shared by Pinar Toprak (@pinartoprakcomposer) on

pinar toprak is a breathing genius, and i find it really sad that the film industry and its eager audience sleep on her work and the work of so many other female film composers. we pay a lot of due attention to john williams and hans zimmer, but toprak scored captain marvel, purl, stargirl, krypton, and a ton of other tracks that’s not being recognized nearly as much as it should, which seems off. anyway i just think she’s neat please check her out and go make hollywood actually try for once ty

track that will knock you into finishing that project: i’m all fired up, captain marvel

 Braille Focus / LeBrun S. Jackson Digital Artistry

tamar-kali has a really cool vibe with her work that i stumbled on listening to the spotify mixes at like, four am one time and it’s really entrancing and invigorating and just. ahh. really great get lost in your head music.

something vaguely different yet familiar: mudbound. like. all of it.

terence blanchard‘s sound in blackkklansmen was so chillingly fun, and harriet equaled if not beat that standard of musicality. i could easily get lost in those sounds for hours. a tale of God’s will and flow are some of my favorites. at this point i’m just geeking out about all of this but then i suppose i have good reason to.

the track that Will force you to stop and go “wow”: goodbye song, harriet

The Peanut Butter Falcon

this one was a collab and i don’t remember everyone by name, but this one is just,, so– idk what the world is, euphoria inducing? clara shared it a while ago and it’s quickly become one of my favorites and then i want to go watch the movie which leads to another rant nobody asked for so i’ll stop right there, but if you ever feel like wandering and being home at the same time, give this a listen.

the “i want” song you’d hear on the radio going to the lake and never being able to forget: running for so long (house a home)

is this a nerd thing to do? perhaps. but i can’t think of a new month or a new season or anything new and exciting without music, and well, these artists make amazing music. so. that’s that.

anyway okay that’s it byee

~time moves fast now, like tires on the road/but i don’t mind it, i always dreamed to go/the long nights over, and i’m starting to believe/i’m not as broken as some made me out to be, jo~


person tying his shoe on road

everything, i think. i want to do everything.

and also nothing. i also want to do nothing.

and also i want to eat pizza.

i have a *great* train of thought.

i’ve done what i think is my brightest idea, and that was to unplug the janky laptop and move to my room, with the aqua fan that isn’t as powerful as it was a year ago, with the horrible pink colors and the splash of blue i added as a minor act of rebellion. personally, it makes the space more lively. the window’s doors are open, and rain is softly hitting the leaves and hopefully taking away pieces of the poor bird skeleton that rests on the ivy. i have no clue what it’s doing there and i’d rather not know.

i’m playing the stargirl soundtrack, and i’m alone in my room, and i think,

“i could live forever.”

i haven’t decided yet what i’ll do after this odd little ramble is over. perhaps i’ll watch a movie. or a tv show on the list i promised myself i’d finish in the summer. or maybe i could *actually* do the s.t.e.m homework i’m supposed to do so i don’t have to repeat a grade in the fall. or maybe i could conquer the world. or dance in the rain. the possibilities are endless.

or, i could trash cats (2019).
because, honestly, everything started going downhill when that accursed trailer came out, no?


there is a strange little gap between want vs need that insists on being as difficult to traverse as possible. do i need to speed through a couple of units that i’m already late for? yes. do i want to record songs i wrote last year on the ukulele in the bathroom (that’s where the great acoustics are)? yes. am i gonna forget the standoff and hop between tumblr and pinterest for the rest of the day? you know what, probably.

indecision will be the hardest choice i ever have to make.

i saw this guy sit outside his house, connect a guitar to some old speaker, and play a soft tune to echo through the street in the middle of tuesday heat, and i wanted to go and listen, because music. and because once a few months ago i was playing ukulele and he came up with the guitar and asked me if i thought it was a good guitar. and then i played it and i said it was great. and then he told me he made it himself. that’s when i felt really bad i avoided people as much as i did. because people.

but that was a few months ago, and here we were, and i stood in the middle of the living room, and thought that i could alter the course of my fate by going downstairs, walking to his place, sitting down, and playing along with him. or i could just crawl up on a kitchen table and look up the legend of korra until i passed out, but that didn’t seem fate-altering. somehow, either step i took would be a path toward something.

so i didn’t move. because fear.

i guess i won’t know what the rest of that day would’ve looked like if i followed the music. did i want the music? i’m not sure. did i need it?

i’m not sure.

and so, i didn’t do anything. how odd.

but… i want to do more. and be more. even if it’s just a little bit. i think, in a way, so does everyone who walks the earth and watches the news and exists on this weird little planet. more. to want more. perhaps that’s not necessarily a bad thing as it is a human thing, who knows?

but even if i don’t become more, does that limit me from doing more?

it’s funny how i say this right after waking up from an accidental nap. my thoughts are all jumbled. oh well. nothing pizza can’t cure.


~my grand plan, just you wait and see, jo~

if you fidget long enough the hours literally fly by

i woke up around lunch time. the fact that i fell asleep around 5 am should evoke sympathy.

ogrhulkjarehngiu what do i put next

oh, i got to wear my favorite shirt today. it’s grey and it’s supposed to be xl and i stole it from my uncle’s clean laundry stash and it’s my favorite and has cool words and i like how it feels and looks and don’t tell my uncle because he won’t stop teasing me for being a midget and i am *not* a midget, i’m just really good at picking out everyone’s best items and then taking them

“there’s only the Vibe” a friend once typed in our group chat after i sent in some workings for an oc that will never see the light of day. my character is both a stereotype and breaks all of them, and i was thinking her ambiguousness would be fun to portray, the way that pinning “background character of your favorite show” to your shirt (the grey one, with green accents) automatically makes you very cool. maybe i’ll talk about my oc sometime. maybe i won’t. ambiguousness, you know?

and that’s that on doing everything and nothing all at once.

i don’t know. that’s what i do know.

i don’t know why my mind is firing off in the distance. i don’t know why i enjoy walking around singing ben platt songs at three am to an empty house, i don’t know why marvel makes disappointing filipino superheroes, and i don’t know why rice noodles and spaghetti don’t work well together. maybe because spaghetti is more wheatier. who knows.

and then i think about the concept of borrowing. how everything that makes me me was taken from someone or someplace i don’t remember, long ago.

i live on borrowed land, i’ve grown up on borrowed culture, i dress in thrift store clothes and things saved from ending up in the trash, i wear bracelets passed from person to person, the shoes i wear were carefully stored as its previous owner moved on to better things (better feet? no) and i write these words knowing that its abstract wildness didn’t stem from me, and i wonder, what can i truly call my own that i came into?

nothing. perhaps that’s the beauty of it.

it’s not like people seem to keen on saving their little mannerisms, their stories, their things. it all goes to the trash. and that seems very sad. little objects and tools and knicknacks are little and tiny and should be saved at all costs. why just chuck them away?

there’s a reason i grew up interested in dumpsters. there’s others. i’ve told a few people why. idk, i like the idea of being the catchall for everything unwanted. it’s cool.

like, you know, here? in the islands? trash is like… treasure. depending on where you are and what time is it and can the aguirres’ tattletale lola watch you lug one of the hotel’s discarded speakers away, or is she busy chasing the newest dogs off her chickens? important stuff. and plastic and spare things like that are all kinda important. i was out on the beach yesterday and there were so many plastic bottles. like the little ones. they seemed so lonely.

and there were no dumpsters for them to go to.


but here i am, spewing nonsense like the water from the sink on tuesdays. nobody here cares about trash. but then, what do you care about? sunsets, mugs with coffee, fries and onion rings, friendship bracelets, polaroids, stories, people?

they all go one place in the end. trash just happened to get there first.

and maybe that’s okay.

like weeds are only weeds if you see them that way. it could be an happy little flower, like bob ross and his happy little trees that technically don’t need to be there but they certainly don’t hurt anything by existing. and that’s all they need to do. exist. it must be terribly difficult to assign roles and purposes for every single organism on earth to feel like everything is there for the greater good.

maybe this is the greater good. to stare at the wall above the stove after yeeting a gecko out of my bedroom (little son of a tax collector made a mess out of my shirts. not nice, mr. gecko, beGONE) and see stars appear out of nowhere. to slide into the kitchen with a piece of cloth that we’ll pretend is a cape, holding a mug in one hand and singing ben rector songs. to dress up as heroes and actively save the world in my mind. imagine. a hero. can you imagine that, wall? heroes.

i wonder what the wall’s favorite shirt is. bet you lunch it probably has green accents and is softer than my roommate’s blankets.

~i wanna eat pancakes for dinner, jo~


the sun shines through a foggy pastel sky
burning orange against faint pink and blue
it peeks behind a mountain,
hiding from the ocean in its view.

the rain has been pouring for hours,
wailing in the darkness, crying in the showers
puddles lie in the crevices of the ground
drops falls from leaf to leaf and roll all around.

blue streaked feathers dart amidst the trees
like this place is an early morning sacred sanctuary
a second of peace to be gleaned from the sky
this moment is ethereal, and passes from all unobserving eyes.

i’ve been enjoying watching the storms pour and staring at the clouds for hours on end, hence all the weather poems. idk i just think they’re neat

you had a name

dark pathway lit with small light fixture

“I can’t breathe.”

the house is quaking with thunder, and i feel numb inside.

“I was just going home.”

you could’ve gone so many places. you could’ve been going for a walk, or to a party, or to your friend’s house, or on a mini adventure, or travelling across the world, and now… well. you’ve gone.

and you just wanted to go home.

“I’m an introvert.”

hey, me too man. you know what, sometimes i sneak out of the house just to wander down the street and watch the waves for an hour. or on top of the roof to stare at the stars. because then there’s no people, and people are scary, and sometimes people pass dangerous things, like sickness and disease and hate. you get that. you got that.

“I’m just different. That’s all.”

you were a musician. you played violin for the cats at the pet shop. you worked as a massage therapist. you liked music and people and cats and you had a story, you were different and you were beautiful.

and you were black.

that’s the only different thing anyone saw.

“I’m so sorry. I have no gun. I don’t do that stuff. I don’t do any fighting. Why are you attacking me?

why did you apologize? you didn’t do anything wrong. and even if you did have a gun, why would that brand you as someone deserving of the treatment you received, when the very country you were living in has made such a big deal of its rights to tote around weapons? that shouldn’t have convicted you, none of this should’ve happened. they weren’t supposed to attack.

they. weren’t. supposed. to. attack.

Forgive me. All I was trying to do was become better. I will do it. I will do anything. Sacrifice my identity, I’ll do it. 

i don’t understand. i don’t understand why you said that, i don’t understand why anyone has to say that, and why nobody listens to them. i don’t know why this hurts so much, and the not knowing hurts even more.

i’ve said the same words and suffered for years for it. i’ve tried to suppress and hide so many messy, dangerous, human aspects of myself to be accepted, but to beg for my life? nobody should have to do that. nobody.

You all are phenomenal. You are beautiful and I love you.

they forced you on the ground.
they were choking you to death.
they let their cameras slip.
they were not listening.
somehow, you gave grace that they would never have even considered for yourself.
that’s astounding, in every way that hurts.

“”Try to forgive me. I’m a mood Gemini. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Ow, that really hurt.

what was done to be forgiven or punished for? walking? wearing a mask? being black? what was right in this situation that let it go unnoticed for months, that it only got brought back up after yet another person’s death? i mean, what happened to “innocent until proven guilty”? what happened to kindness? why did you say such soft words?

You are all very strong. Teamwork makes the dream work.

teamwork is for goals and dreams and futures, and collectively driving toward good. for sports and games and restaurants and the small gentle things of life. for nerf wars and water balloon fights, for games of tag and hide and seek and going places. teamwork shouldn’t be to attack a defenseless person for simply existing differently from you.

because what kind of twisted dream is it to hurt other people?

“Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to do that. I just can’t breathe correctly.”

every person that has ever existed was born crying for air. to apologize for that… to apologize for one of the first things that… that make us human?

i am so sorry.

i’m so sorry that it took ten months. ten. months. let your name be heard, for justice to be demanded. the world is a horrible place to exist sometimes, even when it knows.

they snuffed out a light, and now they’re mad because everyone’s trying to strike matches for a fire.

your name was elijah mcclain. i’m sorry we forgot.

and… and may the light you left with be picked up. soon.

because it feels so horribly dark.

~the dark comes crashing through, jo~

UPDATE: i forgot to leave sources so you can find out for yourself, and i think that’s especially important right now, so here you go:



diy jo style post, definitive tutorial

Andy Samberg Jake Peralta GIF by Brooklyn Nine-Nine - Find & Share ...


you asked for it (actually i think it was diamond who asked it but): how to write posts jo style, a step by step tutorial. because what the world needs right now is angsty walls of text with no capitalization and/or proper punctuation. that. makes sense

but alas, here we are.

how to write a jo-style post

step one: do nothing.

why so specific? who knows? a simple way to do nothing is to promise yourself that you’ll get all of your lit essays done before tuesday so you can watch the bway jackbox stream, then get distracted by clara’s instagram because her photography is literal gold, then obsessively hunt through rhi and charis’ blogs for good books to read, and then have a discussion about sexuality with your very conservative, very biblical, and very dorky brother, and finally, when you’ve absolutely spent the very last minute of any free time, b e h o l d. an idea springeth forth from the grave to haunt you.

however, you do not act upon it, you watch some edits of awae on youtube and start screeching at 3am in the morning. very important part of this step.

step two: let your emotions build up, and then dramatically begin to release them.

to build up emotions, start by never mentioning them to anyone ever if you can possibly help it, or on one supportive friend who is willing to suffer through your sensitive feeling nature (as shown in the above step.). listen to some random angsty music by people you don’t know and you’re basically going to start bursting with too many feelings you don’t know how to handle. wait til midnight, sit out on the porch, look up at the stars, ignore the bajillion bug bites your legs are being violated with, and cry for two minutes about how loki deserved better. at the end of that, by next year, you’ll be able to write that expressive trainwreck of thought onto paper.

step three: grab the nearest writing tool around and begin to formulate letters.

important thing to mention: do we actually write in the wordpress editor, which comes with lovely ways of formatting, designing, editing, adding pictures, and finally publishing?

n O

this is an act of reason and common sense, which goes directly against the carefully built infrastructure of chaos and madness and burnt oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies created for the regular jo. no, instead, you find a coffee cup, a pen, and scribble your words on the side with no words. hopefully with no coffee in it either. if you abstain from caffeine, the text space to your ex, some ripped up checks stuffed in the fridge, your roommate’s open phone, or on the back of an envelope you sent to your cousin with a 5 year old letter in it dramatically saying that everyone on the earth should be passionate about being good, will do just as well. just be sure to burn the letter or erase it from the universe entirely.

step four: hyperfixate on your disaster work and run with the vibe.

this is where you do novel things like WRITING IN ALL CAPS or *putting asterisk actions* and adding,,, awkwardness,, with punctuation. or. marking the flat lines. with. just. periods. you know? you know? know?? hfikaghniauetkntiug oh oh and keyboard smashing and pAsSiVe-aGgReSsIvE capitalization patterns are added! for texture!

of course,

to add gravitas to your work,

make sure the important thing has its own line.

or column of lines.

and don’t forget the importance of references and all that jazz. shade a few people who quote their favorite bands in every single post because you don’t wanna be basic and say that navigating by stars is such a special line in a comment on a post about being brave cause it doesn’t quite… fit.

step five: like a proud frankenstein, release your creation into the world to be admired by all and spammed by bots.

it’s the year 2031, and you’ve finally gotten your post written! huzzah! whatever that means!

the final steps toward publishing are to steal– borrow an aesthetic picture from unsplash or pinterest or both, slap it onto the front, hit preview, find yourself saying “senge’ instead of “saga”, cry, fix it, decide you’re humourous enough, and then schedule it for the next morning. you will not remember that you did so, so when people start commenting you will be absolutely lost because you totally forgot that you did that, which you will then make up for by reading said post, cringing, and profusely thanking the 5 people who read it for not ghosting you entirely.

and then

you repeat the process all over again.

*bows humbly*

~i know i talk too much, i’m abrasive, jo~

let me tell you now

It is the calm water
In the middle of an anxious sea
Where heavy clouds part and the sunrise starts
A fire in the deepest part of me
So I let go and in this moment I can breathe

Out of the woods, out of the dark
I’m well aware of the shadows in my heart
I want to feel tectonic shifts
I want to be, I want to be astonished
I want to be astonished
So I propose a toast
To fists unraveling, to glass unshattering
To breaking all the rules, to breaking bread again
We’re swallowing light, we’re swallowing our pride
We’re raising our glass, ’til we’re fixed from the inside
‘Til we’re fixed from the inside

In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you now
I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around
In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth
I’m everything that I am because of you

Don’t be scared, it’s alright
It’s a weight you are not meant to shoulder
But you bear so much light
And it’s brighter each day we get older
And I know that you’re broken too
But you are a sacrament
God has spoken through
He’s spoken through you

Go on, leave your worries, too
Not a bit of good they do
There’s a word that’s coming through
Go on, leave your worry, too
So I call your name in the middle of the night
I wanna know can you hear my cries?
June heat and moonlight
I wanna follow you
Said I wanna follow you

Can’t you see older brother
A life spent learning to walk
Finally starting to run
You have been vindicated
You had the answer all along
I can see it now
Your journey will inspire many other
Sisters and brothers
Hold on
You’ve carried me more than you’ll ever know

i compiled this for my sister, but since this month is supposed to have father’s day or whenever that is, i thought i’d leave this here for everyone whose father figure isn’t stereotypical, or even has one.

~i can see it, a new horizon, jo~