beautiful.

oh my fucking blog post:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4306i99LMXo&feature=related

oh, the love i have for this song <3 

I yearn for the company of this dead man. i belong a long time ago... I'm living in the wrong world

sweet mary J

Sadly, due to the fact that it made me a psychotic bitch capable of homicide, I've decided to cut back on smoking weed. I CURSE MY BRAIN'S CHEMICAL MAKEUP. Although, now i can treat it as a sacred treat. Something I can lust for ... there's reward in yearning for something. Freedom in that eventual hit that makes me stupid yet careless and that is all that matters.

what if God is the bad guy that won?

The bible.. that book with all the killing, sacrifices, incest and damnation. The one that pretty much deems me worthy of every circle in hell. It paints this picture of a scary, rogue angel that went all power hungry on the big man and his heavenly domain and is now sulking in a vengeful fit of evil wrath etc etc. What if the devil's the good guy that never got his book? never had his say or told his story? Now, i'm by no means preaching Satanic praise - i don't know the guy. But if the skies split open one day and the whole mass of atheists unite in one holy cry of "FUCK"as we realise we were wrong and the bloody christians were right, there's a small chance that our downward spiral into hell could be a little like Alice down the rabbit hole. Hell could be anything, as could heaven. The devil's what you make him and I've slowly come to realise that so is the afterlife. Maybe throughout our lives we accumulate a sense of right and wrong, whether handed down by our parents or stumbled upon by ourselves and with this we choose what to believe. What to hate and what to live for. We learn things and make choices and with these choices we slowly decide what death brings- something completely customized to who we are:
for the christian, it's heaven- shining light and eternal praise
for the conscious sinners, it's hell- fire.fire.fire. quick chats with Hitler and Madonna

for the Agnostics, its peace- black and endless
for the trippers, it's riding a majestic and rainbow-coloured unicorn into some psychedelic forest filled with sex and rock n roll
for me, it's whatever my mind chooses to believe. I do not know yet. Maybe I'm right, maybe the human mind is more than chemicals and justified activity- it embodies a spirit, something infinite. something so powerful that death can trigger what we've been living our whole lives deciding; what comes next.

we're classy because we're ladies

wednesday, july 18th

day one of blogging and I can truly say I've been a fucking little hipster through and through. I'M EVEN WEARING A BLOODY JESUS JERSEY! So now, to break the disgustingly hipster trend i shall speak about my feelings and such. Right now at this very moment in time, I feel content. Not overjoyed to the point where I could rip my clothes off and sing from the rooftops but happy enough (think tired, medicated student kinda happy). In other news, i'm extremely annoyed with my bladder that's probably making everyone in my classes think i'm either pregnant or a drug addict with my constant bathroom trips. Upon one of these bathrooms trips I realised how much more harmonious diversity was when we were kids. I remember not caring about what colour, culture etc etc the person I was playing with was and just wanting to make that fucking sandcastle or climb that fucking tree- there was no difference. Alas, and then we get old and think we are different and unique and we find reasons to not coexist but to protest. Not protest in the burning bra or civilian shoot out kinda way but our mini, self-protests where we scream "LOOK AT ME, I'M DIFFERENT FROM YOU AND THIS MATTERS"... which it does but in a weird way, it also doesn't. The most peaceful thing I've come to realise is that there is no truth. Truth is God and reality and all the shit that comes with that - all the shit in your head. It is a choice that is regurgitated from all the decisions made before us, all the decisions that made us. I am god and knowing this, I am free.
Science, religion and language will seduce all minds that want to be seduced but at the end of the day, there is no truth. I cannot think of myself as a victim of law and morality - both were decided by man as was instinct and humanity. We have learned to exist this way. I am desperately trying to find a new way... my way. THE RIGHT WAY... juuuuust kidding. But i've found my group of people and love that will get me there somehow whether it be mind-altering drugs or an innocent stumble upon a new philosophy, I will learn to exist as a choice not plagued by the sickly character we call humanity.

COOL SHIT I LIKE!

a series of letters I wrote to myself (don't ask- therapy is for bored, rich people)

Dear Taila,

You have freedom young lady. Freedom between your legs, beneath your feet, in your stares, your tantrum kicks and daring licks. Freedom. There’s none of it for mommy’s girls and precious curls. Just freedom: a homemade rendition. No serpent self-loathing to coil around a wondrous heart. No ghastly, wooden wounds or whiny bullshit blues. Merely freedom, the stuff of wind and dirty feet.

My freedom, your freedom. It tastes like uncontrollable light. Your saving grace. Your mother’s plight. It is raw and naked. It is yours.

Love,

Taila 

Dear Taila,

Sometimes, it’s ok to be unfocused. Undefined and slightly confused. You need no lines of definitive authority.

Because life is ambiguous and so are you. Flesh is inconstant and misleading, step forth as spirit and soul. Wait for old age to excuse your madness and reinvest yourself into the loyalty of character.

Love,

Taila

Dear Taila,

RELAX!

Don’t allow the somber feelings to manifest. Not in your room or in your head. Unzip your skin of all attire and dust off the stigma attached to your bones. You are popularly alone so make friends with yourself. Befriend talent, flaw and the fine line in-between. Fear not the time to be unsettled. Let time sooth you like reckless water, replacing limbs with ticks and tocks and simple serenity. Lounge about like feline and empress and taste the day for its lesson. To relax is to release and replenish. Do not fear a little laziness.

Love,

Taila

Dear Taila,

No more suitcase of pity, that baggage of weighty sighs and self-made lies. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. And you are mobile. As fleeting as a bird in pose, as a toddler on their toes. Not fickle and inconstant but fleeting. Fleeting like beauty and lust and a lover’s anger. You are a traveler, a soulful gypsy. Not anchored to earth but winged. A winged spirit- not demon nor angel. Don’t sit in a box and wallow and wail. Be bold and boisterous and say ‘shit” and ‘fuck” with dainty, pretty lips. Pay no attention to fickle folk and pretentious pilgrims. You are alone this journey. Alone and content.

Love,

Taila

Dear Taila,

Get out of the box.

Be rootless.

Love,

Taila

Dear Taila,

These feet have waltzed me from youth to ignorance

Where I now pour limbs for those made of glass

And money

Wet and green

Like and early lawn

Where I would sit as a child

And believe in God.

Little feet-

Stay grounded and unruly.

Love,

Taila

Dear Taila,

Sold to godly highs and demonic lows

I wrestle with the tails of gargoyles

(the stone thieves of my sanity)

In the absence of mercy

I am left losing the wits I had never truly owned

The wits that belonged to mothers and fathers,

Presidents and mobile homes

The wits that belong to the petri dish in which I had been grown

(And I am mad

So very mad)

Love,

Taila

Dear Taila,

Sin.

Sin-g

Sin-ister

Sin-cerity

Sin-gle

Sin-king

There is sin everywhere. Do not fear the commands of a manmade God. You are a living, breathing vessel: sin is inevitable.

Sin is fun.

Love,

Taila