Les crocodiles blancs


Posted in Uncategorized by Clare on 24 August 2010

“Oh I still love you a lot… I love you from the top of my heart.”

Everyone says to be friendly, be outgoing, make new friends. & I used to accept this advice knowing I was far too shy to be anything more than quiet and full of laughs and slight sarcasm, especially around new people.

When you’re actively trying to be friends with someone it can feel so cheap. I go like a pendulum from wanting to burst like light over everyone & create wonderful experiences… to wanting to go underwater and dissolve so that I am omnipresent but invisible.  I want everything to feel like I’m swimming. No kitsch, no unnatural effort, no jokey rigid exteriors, just fluid progression that allows for both vivacity & calmness.

Being appropriate has become a general goal of mine. Not appropriate as in lacking in overtly sexual content, dirty words, violence, necessarily, but appropriate as in intentional. Why shouldn’t I try to make every feasible part of myself fit my life as well as possible?

It’s about refusal, but it’s also about acceptance. But it’s also really fucking hard to focus on streamlining one’s life when everyone around you is busy exploding in every different direction.

It’s about being honest, too. I like honesty, but I never know the borderline of when I should not disclose certain information from people. I wish that everything were how I wanted it to be so that I could live without stopping.

I want to learn to play the bass guitar. I want to learn to sing. Everything is an overload & I want more outlets.

I think I’m going to clean my room tonight.

Pictures by Magna Run & Ya



Posted in Uncategorized by Clare on 22 August 2010

Summertime has ended now.

Good things:

studying/modeling/drawing/not sleeping in the architecture studio

sketching a lot & being praised for it

singing loudly all the time

playing piano for hours at a time

new friendships begun

old friendships continued

awkward friendships improved

“never sleep; ’cause sleep is the cousin of death”

climbing trees, sneaking onto rooftops, staying out all night

oil painting

dressing like it’s winter

wanting nothing to end.