Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘creativity’ Category

The kind of rain that made everything a deeper shade of green. A jungle catalyst.

The kind the seemed to pour right directly onto my heart and please my head just so.

On the contrary, the sky had seemed nauseous, welling up and vomiting it’s contents in taunting fits and starts, but my skin- my gracious, valiant, outer layer must’ve been in it’s best filtration mood, because by the time it reached my innards- it was the most beautiful thing. Simply put. And everything glowed.

rainbow

Read Full Post »

Can I ask you some questions? Would you be so kind as to take a moment to reflect for me? It’s about you. It’s for me… well, for now. But I have ideas OF COURSE. So if you prefer, you can answer anonymously. You can even have my personal email: thelighteningcan@gmail.com and I will respect your privacy when I reiterate. Though, I don’t think you’ll be feeling too exposed when you get right down to it.
I want to know 3 things.

  1. What makes you unique?
  2. What makes you special?
  3. What makes you fortunate?

I have answered these questions with my own brain to provide a template of depth I hope to find, verses some topical answer. Answer in one part, two parts, three parts… whatever. Get loose with it!

Baby L (me)

  1. What makes you unique?

a. Often- I’ll see people that seemed deeply embroiled in a heavy make out session, all intertwined and public. Then upon further inspection it turns out that it is in fact just one, solitary obese person.
b. A new vocabulary word that I have never used before will be on the tip of my brain upon wake, awaiting its debut in my conversations perhaps.
c. I dream about water bodies in some capacity every night.

  1. What makes you special?

I care deeply for justice and work towards it in some way almost every day. I have wired my life around it.

  1. What makes you fortunate?

a. I am fortunate because I have creative, tireless brain that when on the right trajectory has the capacity to produce beeeaaauuuty! And crazy drive. I am constantly getting new, cool ideas for art on a larger scale. I’ve always been dipped in some form of self-expression.
b. Also, I have parents that have been supportive of my zany ways that differ so strongly from their approach at life. We love each other.
c. I have a beautiful house and beautiful friends.
d. I’ve been granted with an overall positive disposition.
e. I consider myself pretty self-aware and am always striving to be my best self.
f. I got rhythm for days and I ain’t afraid of no dancefloor!

So there it is. Spice it up/ break it down. I’m listening. Sock it to me (((please!!)))!

play this

Read Full Post »

Her favorite name for candy was Starburst.

Her favorite name for a recycling company that she had recently taken notice of was Cloudburst.

These expulsions. They could bring her to her knees; drive away demons. These slightest of suggestions.

Days where everything had meaning: Lights turning green were indicative.
If a dog barked twice.
For a tangerine peel to come off, maintained in one connected piece without coming undone beneath her fingers.
If the penny tossed while feeding the meter turned up on tails. Everything told something.

Everyday she wore items that fit the same description. Khaki shorts, tie died shirt of some sort, gauzy white scarf. A purposeful precaution should she turn up missing, she’d be easy to describe. Her fears over-arching; ever present. That head of hers- full of responsibility. Slippery shaped thoughts akin to greased palms, just as hard to hold.
Thin veil between psychedelic induced psychosis and one slipped into her drink. So suspicious. She could be found on the beach, laying in a tangle, trying to distinguish between which kind.

Luckily there were the calming elements. The source could be from a passing truck with the simplest of messages. Or the cold-awake-wide-open feel of ocean. Ocean. Ocean. It’s own sentence. Paragraph. Novel. Her biggest self. It tousled and it soothed.
And snails. How she loved them. The time they took. The swirl continuum. The iridescent remnants. Did they even have a destination? A model, indeed. “Be more like the snail”– something she would breathe and drive into the bottom of her belly. Someone had to own the mantra. Be more like the snail. Time is on my side. Even if this was said in rushed fashion it provided a balloon’s worth of weight off her back. She had these things. Palms unneeded. It could be nice.

This woman was the first person to be recognizable in containing a purposeful aimlessness. What an achievement. Her town’s people thought she a gentle kook: All weary smiles. She knew they knew of the springboard that lay within. Of this she was sure. Unhingable at any moment sans notice.
But what are their skeletons? She wondered often.
A good question, though not everyone’s dance like hers.

A doe-eyed doctor once told her to give up the sauce. She had taken to drinking spirits because of the name implication. The potentiality of unknown company. Another soother. Absinthe was a no-go, of course. Too close. Too witchy. She knew the limits. But challenge herself she did, and lessen her mania she had, when it came to cutting back on such a vice. Good job good job, said the voices from her sidelines, despite her bag being no stranger to a buttery cognac. Remy Martin just sounded like such a protector.

The sound of things. Eyes being the first line of defense, only once approved would her mouth take it on.  No sense in tempting fate.
Explosions always on the horizon, lest they be unuttered and ignored.
Only a sunburst could make way.

bernal

Read Full Post »

One of my very favorite things is when Im on a walk (usually with my sweet little doggy), and we pass someone singing and practicing piano. !! It just fills me up, buttercup. When the rest of the world doesn’t exist, momentarily, and the thought is that no one is around, and you hear some one being free. It’s just about the purest thing…

And how people get petals stuck in their hair and falling all over their heads in the Spring.

And when Im in the city and I have a sweet exchange with a stranger, or even just share a moment, be it funny or sincere.

And even when the wind blows just right at the very right time on that perfect day and it feels like my cells just stretched out and took a deep breath in unison. That right place right time ish.

So I am reclaiming romantic. It abounds and is not limited to two people’s feelings/ actions/ expressions. Romance happens between us and the world. It is what makes us shiver (in a good way) on the inside. It’s our private collection of sweet things too small to tell, just as they are our anchors to faith.

Riding my bike is a sure fire way to light the spark. There are so many incredible Oo-ah moments that feed my soul, like yesterday, crossing the tracks in the SE industrial area of Portland, this regular looking dude was walking in a more desolate area along the tracks just playing a trumpet.

~sigh~ Super inspiring, just getting alone time where no one’s around, on an ultra hot day. My phone sadly doesn’t do justice to how sweet this moment was, or how barren the area was either. Betta than nothin’. Today I made a pledge, so to speak, to myself and promised to be a better photo-documentarian. Taking pictures of inspiration and secret moments revealed.

Oh, and also to never miss a good photo op even if the camera is kind of sucky sucky.

Along that same bike ride I spotted this older, transient guy on account of his pink sequins pants. Yes I did. Soo I turned around and had to had to just had to get a shot. Luckily he was down. He was missing a pinky, therefore now going by the name of Pinky. Lost to too much fun or something like that. We talked a little but then the cops came and told us not to encourage him. Jeez. Boring.

He wanted some company for the shot – naturally (!) and so Chaach (left) got up in there with him (and my sexy bike (R)). Putting his Pinkys out for the pic was his idea. Cute. Yes, he was a bit loopy but I tell you that man has fun.

I am wined and dined by these things that I mention. It’s these things that keep me in love.

Read Full Post »

For all of us who are compelled by the flowery abilities, alternative expletives, bounds of descriptive potential, lexicographical nuances… come, be a part of the grand contribution to a fine and ever increasing compilation of play on words, entertaining tales of cross cultural homophones, and ,my personal favorite, misuse “of” quotations (yes!!), among much much more. And, because we have behaved so well and appreciated the art of expression, without further ado I am happy to present you with a little entertaining morsel of brain candy:
Lexophiles (Lovers of Words)
http://www.bouldertherapist.com/html/humor/WordPlays/lexophiles.htm
Enjoy and visit soon, I will do my best to provide entertainment (:

Read Full Post »

D.I.Y. movement

A chance for old to be new

Old boot, new planter

—————————–

Brilliant shining soul

Bioluminescence

Swallowed a starfish

—————

Please go on and sing

Make like no one is around

Then I’ll know you’re freed

—————————–

Spider, I’m sorry

Breaking your web really sucks

‘specially with my face

—————

twinz

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts