hello, (again,)

Portfolio: https://hellogabe.com // Twitter: @cw_gabe // Blog #2: http://ae-gabe.tumblr.com/

[cw-gabe]

You’re a hard person to say thank-you to.

[cw-gabe]

Treat yourself

I hope your day is filled with plenty of sweets. If you’re not into the food, then I hope your evening is filled with killer deals. Happy Thanksgiving, fam!

[cw-gabe]

Four parrots lost in a field of green

Yes, this is a grainy photo. I zoomed in on an iPhone and that’s a no-no but it’s beside the point. Even though the parrots are barely recognizable, it captured the moment perfectly. I squinted and searched all over the field to find them. So, the grainy look doesn’t bother me so much. It’s as if I’m still looking with my own eyes and still being half-blinded by the sun. I like this photo. It calms me like a painting would. It’s a nice reminder too. I need to slow down more and absorb all the details. That sometimes what I’m looking for has been in front of me all along.

[cw-gabe]

XXX-XXX-4273

“Hey I’ve missed you”

I woke up to your message, XXX-XXX-4273. I thought about replying but the thought seemed silly after a cup of coffee refreshed my mind. I don’t know who you are anymore. The sender is not in your contact list. I appreciate the kind intention. Unfortunately, I’m not sorry that I don’t want to inform you that your message was undeliverable. The person you miss has moved on. I do admit the curiosity almost provoked a response from me. I wondered for just a moment what made you think of me at 9:21 PM. What memory made you send a text, did it require courage to send, and what voice was the text sent in? Was it: “Hey I’ve missed you,” said the sad ex-lover or “Hey I’ve missed you,” said the nostalgic old friend? Regardless of which, it doesn’t matter.

(“That’s nice but I haven’t missed you”)

[cw-gabe]

Memories can poison you if you revisit them too often.

[cw-gabe]

Sometimes, when I don’t feel like blogging but feel like I should post something to maintain a presence, I look through my notebook or picture folder for anything that I can just post quickly and throwaway. These pictures have been demoted today. I usually always have a plan for my pictures too. With these, I wanted to write a short fantasy dialogue, just two characters conversing to pass the time. Maybe they’d be complaining about watch duty, or maybe I would’ve thrown in talk of a rampant dragon that’s been seen around town; nothing major, just a glimpse of the life. 

Occasionally, I don’t have a plan and just wing it, like I’m doing now. I need to post so I post. More often than not, though, I pair words from my notebook to a picture in my folder. They weren’t created for the same purpose nor do they necessarily go together. It’s juxtaposition that I do for myself and that I find refreshing. It creates perspective and allows me to recognize patterns. 

The snippets I share online are like idea bubbles, or pocket exercises, to lead me to a more pointed direction, a direction that hopefully challenges me to grow. I always write for myself first and because I enjoy it. It’s posts like this that I share when I can to help me find my balance again.

[cw-gabe]

I live in a world where identities are unintelligible. A world where we don't understand ourselves and fail to understand each other.

[cw-gabe]

Across the times of man one thing was always constant: rage. Rage found its way across the land and polluted even the most innocent of souls. You couldn’t escape rage because rage was what was inside of you. It lingered like the worst memory you couldn’t forget, eating away at your core until there was nothing but fire left. I say this because today I am the one filled with rage. I feel its poison seizing my mind at this very moment. It’s impossible to let go. I feel it squeezing my brain like the worst migraine but worst for no medicine can cure me of this pain, this rage. 

What am I to do but tell you of this most anger-filled moment? I can not simply release energy like some fire-legion demon perishing mortals with a touch. I am human. I am vulnerable. Thus, why I’m so hopelessly filled with rage. If only I could harness this for something more than what it burns me for. But alas, I can not. I am weak. I am mortal. Destroy me with ye woes or seek forgiveness for the hurt I shall bestow. 

[cw-gabe]

Hope emerges from the most unexpected locations.

I took this photo as I left the emergency room with my father. He wasn’t feeling too well. He was okay that night, just needed some rest. But as we left I was left without breath when I saw a rainbow greeting us to say, “Good morning.” It wasn’t a magical rainbow, but it was extremely proud. It stood above all the sadness, all the heart break, and disappointment and said, “It can get better. It will get better.” At the time I thought, what a load of garbage that I was feeding myself, but, you know, it turns out the rainbow was on to something. This year could be said to have been a weird, off, unusual, unsuccessful, and most depressing year. It really hasn’t been, though. This has been the best, most perfect year I could’ve hoped for. A year to reflect and grow as I waited for the perfect opportunities to line up. My friends, the stars are aligning. I feel more alive than before; and I’m really looking forward to all the wonderful moments to come.

[cw-gabe]

I received the seven blessings of the world today.

[cw-gabe]

Pow, pow just like that NYC has shot you down!

[cw-gabe]

In the clouds you are.

[cw-gabe]

Sometimes all you need is a beer, a good meal, and a friend.

[cw-gabe]

Life is only a dream, isn’t it?

I don’t know. It’s kind of amazing, no? Life. I constantly find myself incredibly inspired and stimulated by the daily interactions. I think all of humanity is something to be cherished. So much hate in the world, but what is it all for? Don’t we want to achieve the same goals? Again, I don’t know. I really do not know, and it pains my soul! Why, oh why does this cruel world, this cruel society treat me so?! Is it because I tried? Is it because I believed? No. It’s because it can. Life dictates the emotion. If we had choice, if we had ambition we’d all be artists. We’d all live in peace, pursuing our greatest ambitions that benefited us a whole. Shoot, if only; I wish. 

[cw-gabe]

In my dream, she struggled to write the perfect song.

Sometimes I don’t know how to handle my blog. I’m often torn on whether I should be writing to create a post, or if I should be writing for myself. Often, I’m writing for myself and as a result that makes me neglect my blog. Most times what I write doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Most times I write just because I enjoy the act of doing so. So when I don’t post for days or weeks on end, more than likely, it’s because I’m holed up writing with a pen.

But back to my dream real quick. I had the saddest dream the other night. Basically, I was with a girl and she was trying to write a song. She started to sing aloud as a brainstorm method and began to sing the most sweetest song I’d ever heard. I congratulated her on creating a foundation for what was surely going to become a unique song, but I noticed that she wasn’t writing it down. It was so sad, and it gave me pain. She was extremely talented but failed to properly harvest her talents; and that sort of got me thinking about what it means to be an artist. 

I still occasionally think back to some cliche speech I got while I was in school about percentages, talent, and hard work. You’ve probably heard it too. It’s kind of depressing to know that it’s true. Inspiration shouldn’t hit you like lightning every once in a blue moon. You shouldn’t wait for it to strike. You have to harvest it, consume and adapt. 

And that’s what I see my blog as: a platform to share not what I think is good, creative work but to share work that I think is important for my growth. 

[cw-gabe]

A slice of pizza astonished me. It was an ordinary slice too. Plain, with just the right amount of crunch to the crust and a shape like a diamond on the bottom where the crease of the fold was. It didn’t taste any different than the slice before it and it wasn’t more visually appealing than the slice to come after it. It was an ordinary slice. The astonishment came to me during the fourth or fifth bite.

I pulled cheese from cheese with elegance, like an accordion player performing for a couple. As I pulled away I caught sight of a boy and a horse. When I looked more closely there was no boy, only a horse. I stared at the horse perplexed. The slice of pizza was still hanging from my right hand pointing downward. If I was looking at the slice I would’ve thought that it resembled a stalactite with its jagged edge and grease dripping from the tips as if it was water. But I wasn’t looking at the slice, I was staring at the horse. Why did I see a boy when there was only a horse? Then it occurred to me that I was once a boy and this was once my horse.

I was enjoying a slice at William’s Pizza, the same William’s Pizza that I’ve been enjoying slices at all my life. I guess I’d forgotten it was there. Or maybe it was the fact that it had been moved to another wall. Twenty-five cents for a ride on the horse and less than ten bucks for a few slices in a medium pie. It wasn’t an extraordinary slice of pizza, but it astonished me by how little it charged for the resurgence of a memory.

[cw-gabe]

November 13, 2010 / 9:50PM // iPhone 3G

Sour as the day, will these nightmares go? I can only pray

Life can be so vivid and divine. Bloodshot eyes, liquor in the system; there is no rewind

There never is a sequential plan, embrace these moments and take what you can

Maybe you’ll want to forget but choose wisely so there isn’t regret

These pages form a story. Do your best to not make it boring

Paces taken too fast; will these social memories even last?

Everything feels so right except the truth

This is the anthem of my nation’s youth.