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.
“oh.”
“yeah.”
“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…”
“promise?”

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.”

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~

do?

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?

fine.

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.

WAIT—

~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.

sigh.

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~

diy jo style post, definitive tutorial

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

welp

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~

everything all at once, i suppose

i have never made sense, i never will, don’t worry too much about it

sick Archives - Reaction GIFs

it’s

MY

breakdown and

I

get to choose the level of teenage angst

*i n h a l e s*

hi! i’m jo! i identify as a moron, allergies include shrimp, dust mites, and the whole world apparently, unaddressed depression Thriving, and you’re watching

*THE SAD TACO TRUCK FIRE CHANNEL*

where nothing, and i can’t stress this clearly enough, nothing, goes right

featuring! war! bloodshed! government invasion of privacy! the beginnings of trauma! my nonexistent sanity! and most importantly, pizza with pineapple on it!

have f u n with That, Kids!


when i die say something nice
wear comfy pajamas and bring fried rice
watch all the instagram stories i set to private
the things i’ve only said in the silence

when i die please gather round
pretend i was a memory you won’t throw out
wipe your tears and blow your nose
forget about it all when you go

when i die if i ever called you friend
do me a favor and for an hour pretend
that the person you came to grieve
actually made any mark in the light of eternity


my pinterest feed seems to worry about me and i admire that very much

like lately it’s been full of angry twitter posts and tumblr rants that cry for the dystopian protagonists to begin saving the day and like, can we handle that rn? nope

so now it has art of fantastical places and edits and happy comics and baking recipes and room inspiration and laugh out loud trashposts and all of this grossly domestic vibe which is super sweet but i wouldn’t ever say that if my life depended on it (nevermind that i just did)

the question is is it pinterest,

or is it the people who i follow that saved me from stressing over another source of bad news

either way, thank you


the following is a snippet of something i sent in to select friends, enemies, and undecided, and i figured it fit with the crack vibes this is emanating, so here you go

"i cannot talk very well. 
especially to big macho guys. 
especially if said big macho guy had seen me successfully hurl a knife into a palm tree and cackle like a stereotypical witch 
(more on that later.)
"a n x i et yyyyy"
"jo:
nightguard:
jo: AGHHH HUMAN"

i figured this out last night watching the storm beat down on the windows and honestly it passes the vibe check

my greatest fear is being irrelevant

insignificance

and i wonder why, you know? is it a mental thing to feel everything more deeply than they’re meant to be? is it just me? could i just inherently not be good enough for anyone to want to interact? will i be doomed to leaving people too stunned to react?

and i don’t know
how would i

what is the point of art if nobody sees it? what is the purpose of a message that isn’t heard? why say anything if nobody listens? why exist if it ultimately doesn’t matter?

and i struggle with reminding myself that things don’t require a useful purpose to be loved, and that is Okay, like how technically nobody needs nutella but the world would be a dismal place without it

and perhaps insignificance isn’t a horror, because then when you do anything nobody can say “but you’re supposed to be meaningful!” because you never were to begin with
so you can just reply, “no, i’m being me” and that’s the best meaningful you can get


so here’s the thing

we’ve saying “black lives matter” seriously for a couple of weeks now and the message has been cried out for literal years

and yet, the overwhelming response seems to be “we Know, Stop Saying It :((”

and that’s frustrating

people being hurt without reason is frustrating. the hurters getting away with it is frustrating. the people who were supposed to help about it doing the exact opposite is frustrating. being ignored and being rejected and being laughed at and being forgotten is frustrating.

so no wonder people shout

just all that to say

harm can be passive


a m i n i p la y l i s t

it would be you – ben rector
so will i – ben platt
battle cry – the family crest
paper rings – taylor swift
king of anything – sara barielles


a self portrait

“don’t we look m a r v e l o u s, isn’t it g a y” – talkfine
(look colors)


oooh some beautiful people did some beautiful things lately:

look it’s weez!

evelyn seems so cool

sarah cracked me up

ahhh clara


and finally some closing notes:

  • it’s summer
  • if you look up june 13 2019 and june 13 2020 on here they’re both drastically different but about the same thing
  • it’s summer!!
  • for independence day everyone should watch hamilton and reconsider their heritage (and also donate to a charity of their choice)
  • look up juneteenth and be still for a moment
  • google baby ducks tripping over their feet
  • call enni a duck in her about page on the 27th (pls i’m not kidding)
  • summer!!
  • remember it’s june love who you love and also respect people’s pronouns
  • do something absolutely horribly stupidly childishly fun that screams summer because yes

⎯  𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 : @𝘱𝘢𝘷𝘭𝘹𝘷𝘦 🔮 * ·゚

~we’re all a little mad sometimes, jo~

please pick me up from this party there are people doing drugs and i am scared

timelapse photography

uhhhhh my to do list says “do some personal writing” so what the heck, i’m here, doing some personal writing, because that’s a good idea

i’m tired.

i just

i don’t even know any more.

the world is tiring. and people are never completely trustworthy. and my own self is a chaotic wreck waiting to explode. there are no safe spaces, not anymore. they’re all teargassed out waiting for the bombs to set

which is, y’know, kinda sucky, because it’s 2020 and it’s our year! and it’s a new decade and it’s supposed to be fun and exciting and we were supposed to have flying cars. flying cars. how hard was that? flying cars. not police cars ramming into people causing them to fly, not cars wrecked by angry mobsters who can’t separate revenge from justice, flying cars. i wanna fly. doesn’t anyone else? why can’t that be the future we got?

and i hate being that person who’s so doomsday, shoving the nasty stuff onto print and forcing people to wake up to the world they have to live in, but then it’s like, why even try otherwise? how can we pretend that the world is okay when it’s mostly on fire? what else is there to do but show the horrors of staying alive?

the last bit is from one of my favorite shows. our hero’s getting tortured, as most heroes tend to be. and he doesn’t give up, he just grits it in and holds it in and is a hero and then he thinks about the love of his life and he starts crying because i suppose it isn’t worth having life without love but when you have neither what a place to be in, and does this even make sense?

but i’m not a hero. and i’m tired of holding it in. i just want to let it out and release those inhibitions but i can’t because i’m borrowing someone’s old junky laptop and i’ve spent an hour looking at laptops and microphones and tablets because creation, baby, creation, but if that creation gets ignored or ruined anyway then i’ve wasted my life and more importantly, my money, and how can i create in the midst of this war, of this fight, of this madness unceasing? andrew peterson might, but he probably has a house and a supportive family, and all i’ve got is myself and a God that’s probably sighing repeatedly as i write this, and ain’t that punk?

i wrote a song that i was gonna sing for the protest, for the fight, and i wrote it with tears streaming down in anger, vaguely hoping it would be the fight anthem of everyone marching, somehow wishing i could belt in in the faces of all the bad guys. but i didn’t because there’s not much that separates the bad from the good to begin with and i wasn’t interested in dealing with the morality of this since legality threw itself out ages ago. so i didn’t sing it. but i suppose a small part of it can be here, just as evidence of its existence–

God where are you going
your people are falling apart
they sing out your praises
then kill all the people you made

it was supposed to end at the cross
when will it ever stop
we’re being sent to the pearly gates
from the ashes of fires and carnage

and so on and so forth and it had a beat and a brief moment but the problem with moments is they have to be witnessed by people and the problem with people is every. single. thing. about them

everyone’s messed up. everyone says one thing and does another. everyone tries but they fail, and sometimes they don’t even try, and all of the time, it hurts, and it’s like, why am i even here again? why should i have to exist in the same place where my rawness will be both worshipped and mocked? why am i here? why are you here? why is total good and total evil both impossible? and it’s this frustration of people that adds to frustration of myself and i wanna run up the stairs and lock the door to my room and never come out because nobody needs another person in another war

but then maybe they do

oh brother. maybe they do?

why is life so uncertain

why did i talk so much why can nobody listen what’s wrong with me

why do i assume that i can barge into the heavens courtroom and just flat out demand an answer of the maker of creation? and know that even with my angry words i will be heard? what right is that?

does any of that make sense?

oh– oh nevermind you’re drunk, i mean, duh, of course you are, it’s a party, everyone’s having a time– oh, well, i won’t bother you— no thanks i tried that stuff, ten ten don’t recommend–

and i’ll just hit the road because i don’t have anyone to pick me up and take me home

okay bye

~are you frightened, jo~

finish the song – letter writer

I wish I could just write all this in a letter to you. I feel like if letter-writing were still allowed then I would still have a way to legitimately talk to you, not just these conversations I have...

ay

we’re back at this again.

not really sure where it came from, but here’s letter writer.

uh

enjoy


dear God let’s have a conversation
i’m just tired of waiting for an invitation
there’s been more thorns than colorful carnations
did you have a plan or was that just my imagination

dear God where are you supposed to be
are you only over the oceans or do you rule the seas
because i’m slowly drowning and it isn’t even deep
but would you believe that i feel like i’m free

yeah, the world is burning did you have a clue, have a clue
we’re all hurting and no one knew, no one knew
is this a tunnel we’re supposed to walk through
so tell me, how the hell, am i supposed to trust you?

forgive the cursing, sometimes i’m inclined
to bring out the sin and my much needed pride
that isn’t holy i realize
but that’s a situation in which you thrive, right?

you’re aware of the growing mess
pick out my flaws and i’ll burn the rest
something tells me though that you know best
who am i to argue when you created this


do i know where that came from? nah

do i hope it meant something worthwhile? yeah

is that really all i can say about this? pretty much

~with shortness of breath, i’ll explain the infinite, jo~

that thing where i answer questions and sound really basic (because why not)

credit to hafsa on pinterest and also read this in site ty

okay okay okay

it has been like,,, a year shy of a day since this specific blog started to exist on the internet

w i l d

and it’s been a trip. we crossed some countries, made some friends, lost some minds, ranted to the wall that is the online world, lots of cool stuff. can’t say anything good has come out of it, but compared to last year it’s actually holding its own (surprisingly.) which is great. i’m grateful that people read this and aren’t immediately cringing, and i’m even more grateful that it’s stuck around for so long.

so

to celebrate (is that a thing) i’m doing that thing where i ask you to ask questions about literally anything and then i answer them. because that’s original. to add to how utterly unique this is it’ll be live (figuring out the link), with my weird unstable voice, some music, and utter chaos.

ahem so i kinda wanted to start a casual podcast thing where i talk about more specific topics like diversity and elitism and toxic fandom in 15 minutes or less, maybe read a few poems, collab with people, who knows and anyway i thought this would be a cool test run if you will of this absolutely terrible, ready to be killed from neglect idea so yayyyyyyyy anyway move on

some things to ask things for answers to things:

  • my sanity (and on neurodiversity, mental health, and self care)
  • origins (being an immigrant, moving around a lot, weird travelling stories)
  • interests (can this be self explanatory, stories, recent hyperfixiations, inspirations, theater, how unfair endgame was)
  • work (writing, also stories, characters, why i was sobbing for ten whole minutes over my google drive)
  • literally please ask any question you can think of/want to/have, and like, deep questions
  • the ones you don’t normally ask because those are the ones that stay with you
  • again, deep, extremely weird, and random are perfect
  • if anything’s too personal they shall still be answered so feel. freeee

i might let this last for the week and then go for it on the 16th? maybe? idk there’s a lot at once and can you tell i’m trying to be casual about it so i won’t be too disappointed when it flops? (answer: yes)

either way, i think it’s fun, and i hope you think it’s fun, and i’ll see you aroundish in a couple of days

thanks for the year, guys. hope it’s been a good one.

~it’s been totally awesome, jo~

cherry on top of an already perfect day

Regenwetter - #rain #Regenwetter #paisajeurbano Regenwetter - #rain #Regenwetter

it’s going to rain tonight

so like any normal human being, i walked outside and screamed at the gigantic dark clouds filling the sky “KILL ME”

“PLEASE”

i’m tired okay? okay. i’m tired of interacting with people despite this already tiring thing called quarantine, i’m tired of how the internet lags during functions and graphs because e x c u s e me boi how the heck do you expect me to know that stuff right off the bat, and the third spider crawled in tonight. contrary to popular opinion, i don’t need a physical representation of all the texts i get from my exes. I DON’T. PLEASE. GO.

hgurnjlkrgvfnaeiurgjkn eirugjkn we’re doing jest fine folks, jest fine, step right up and claim your perfect sundae wonderful happy day where your senses are perfectly tuned and your brain isn’t fizzling and everything you process will never be normal because you have no freaking clue how that works and also the salem witch trials only existed because of a malefearignorance dominated world, the same one in which you’d be called a witch for feeling all of this. but replace the w with a b and now you’re the villain.

go fetch your spider, little wicked villain.

oh and the spider is now snooping around the house and if it lands on my violin i do not care what my uncle said i WILL burn this place to the g r o u n d

i mean, is it too much to wish for air conditioning? is that so bad to want?

or for a lightning strike on everyone inviting their friends over to make tiktoks despite the distance part of social distancing, knocking them asleep long enough to belt the last part of good for you? or a salt gun?

can it just rain already?

but i don’t get to control that. i don’t get to send a wind through the house to cool everything down even though sweat and heat are two things that disturb my skin and me. i don’t get air conditioning because those are only in the guest rooms, i don’t get to use the smaller, quieter fan because it’s broken, and i don’t get anyone to suffer with because everyone i care about is on the other side of the world, as we have discussed on here multiple times before and each time i do, i just want to scream and is this too much yet?

My sweet love watch the air raids

As the streets of London are not safe

lightning just crackled

like ripped through the sky

i wish i had that power

to be so deadly, so precise, so concentrated

but i’m not. and that sucks. and i want to go home.

sometimes i really hate my brain. sometimes i really hate feeling everything so much

my sister is like “but jo, you shouldn’t hate your senses, they’re so powerful and they can pick up on everything and they’re special”

and i don’t WANT to be special

i just want RAIN and cOLD and things that don’t FEEL

i want to be okay and i’m not

what a sad first world thing

And I wish that we could escape

As the beat of the drum keeps on its play

it’s raining now.

you know what i don’t care anymore watch me run into it and get hit by lightning

And I long to feel the rain on my face

So I wait, I want the bombs to fade away

okay okay okay that was

that was

cleansing, almost

that was amazing

the LIGHTNING

the smell of wet gravel

the individual drops

the squelch of rubber

have my senses calmed down enough?

maybe?

i’m gonna go listen to ajr and vian izak while i think about this because they g e t it, and i’m gonna look up mathcrash videos, and i’ll have lunch, and i’ll go text my friends, and watch some edits of my favorite people, and i’ll breathe and calm down and cool down and it is going to be okay, and maybe i was just a little storm cloud that needed to rain and hopefully the receiving end of that storm needed the downpour

but ask me to calm down about the spider and i will MURDER you.

that is all.

~will i find my home, will i find my home, my home in you, jo~