Watch; watch the view, the view beside you
Paint the sky with subtle greys and blues
Watch the wind, dusting the evergreen

The summer sadness has begun
The birds wake me up before my alarm
The springtime construction hurts my ears
And I end up sleeping with my past

The city walks from beneath my feet
Only geometric shapes and sharp colours
No faces for naming
Pink flowers, and eggshell buildings

Break still young one
Hold your candle high
Salvation comes to those who wait

Be still grasshopper
Don’t react so quickly
Time isn’t going anywhere

So still loved one
Weave in and out of the lines
Make some mistakes along the way

Time changes, sweatheart
When you least expect it
It shifts

What now
Found my dream, it came true
What now,
My dream is over and I am left empty

Vulnerability, it fits me like a glove
Running to find some kind of peaceful coexistence
Dressed in stress, killing each other,
Climbing the sale rack

Happiness seems to be close,
So close, but never in my hand
Shaking the tree of solace
Only to disrupt the peace and the harmony

What now,
Now, is time, to find a new dream

These people, these lines we cross
Sidewalk ways, and bike lane woes
In a constant commute,
Up and down the hill

Trees of green, skies of rain
Cloud coverage, and an acoustic prayer
Will you hear me scream?

Another soul, let out of the light
Hidden behind underground rails
No one sings like you,
Not anymore

Trying to drown the wet
Grasping for another vinyl melody
To drift,

Stay with me,
Hold my hand,
Let me go,
Another broken heart's;  Last Stand

Keep me close,
Never let me go
Stay with me,
Let me face, the seeds that I have sewn

Turn on my light,
Let me see the shadows play
Shut my door,
Walk away and leave me;  stay

I should know by now,
Hold my heart, hold my head
I should know how,
To ask you to stay and let it be said

Depression is a game, you are forced to play
Its never going to end, just ring around the rosie
Its, another time around the board

It affects everything,

Trying to see the good, the positive, and the optimistic, or the inspirational
Makes you feel worse, and tears start to swell against your eyelids

Trying to escape depression is a never ending fight against these feelings you can not seem to surpass, it becomes you, it destroys you

And,

Then,

It becomes you

I tend to try and stay away from people
Spend hours in the bathroom smoking chimney smoke
Safe behind the door of my apartment, views of mountains, and city life
Pressed between something I had and something I have gained
Confused in which way I should see

Maybe one day it will all work itself out
Life might just figure out the kinks on its own
Empty all the ashtrays and the empty broken homes

I am letting life pass by
Watching it go, from the window
Letting myself dye in isolation
Cowering from the things I could eventually know

The water is cold and the sky is dark
I have managed to escape the life I had feared
And built up brick walls

Having something of a disappointment,
of a father,
Or having a inferior daughter,
youre not proud of,

I am useless, a waste of breath,
for him, I am nothing,
Didnt like a family, so bought a new one.
And I have scars to show, and tears on my sleeves,
Pretending that he means nothing,

I am sick of all the deceit
All the things we tell ourselves
To make the day end
I am sick

Its never going to be enough for them,
It will not ever reach over the rainbow,
There is no *** of gold
Only a bowl full of ***  
And that’s all you’ll get

So fire up, put on your IRL shoes
And blow with the breeze,
Look at the little things that make you survive

Find whatever makes you feel complete
And darling, I think that just might

Just might,

Be you

Do you ever want the best for me?
Ever realize, that I struggle with emotions,
With being out in reality, with interactions of strangers and foe
I put my cards in one basket, twice.
They bluffed.

Would you?
Call mine?

The record subtly spinning,
Music has always accompanied my psychosis
Makes me feel tall.
Just the interior monologue of my youth and the days I was never around

I’m all full
Filled up with yesterdays
And regrets

Where is my hero?
To save me from tears and blankets
To hold my hand when I sleep,
And make sure I believe in Ever After

The time for change has come
And once again, life in boxes
Shoveling things into tiny spaces,
Getting ready for the future.

Off to my, one bedroom, one, alone
Third Floor, to the right, it’ll be home in one weeks time.
Its exciting and scary, a time of rebirth
Let in the new me, and say goodbye to the hermit.

Time to let myself experience the world through another looking glass
And not just be looking up from a basement with no noise cancelling headphones
And less tricks of your eye, as I say goodbye to this place of doubt and uncertainty

Strangers coming in, looking at the old lifestyle of a hopeless dreamer,
Messy thoughts and untidy illusions of the hope of time, and the thought of making

Promise

The Cold Dust Woman,
Crying on her Broken Porch,
Screaming for something to come and save her reckless soul
Trying to find something else besides the day to day,
A break from society, A break that will substantiate the differences between experience,
           And an alternative motive.

Something alike using a product,

To gain, and better yourself.
Individual.

After another 10 hour day, excluding transit
I find myself 2 marijuana puff puff passes
Past the record spinning, and the words of Stevie and Lindsay
Speak past the first brain and well into the second one,
Causing my unconsciousness to sweat and wilt to the sounds of love and tragedy
Another days' end come to a close, as I wind down with a couple PBRs, The sound of the 70's,
And the soon romantic encounter with sleep

The day is,

Waiting for tomorrow

I am feeling more and more hopeless; the things I work for seem to be slipping,
I cannot remember the last time I was stress free, or smiled without force
Baking and braising seem to have become some of the only words I can muster
Whipping and traying are the only things I can get too
I have forgotten what it is like to achieve a dream: dreamt


At least I still have the power of solace, and the memory of time
The death of my childhood, and the birth of responsibility
I have become something my mother is proud of, and my father disowned
Empty spaces within the fridge magnets of lands afar,
The farther away, the closer to home,
Its slipping, life, loss, lust, its falling

Nothing to show for the things have done,
Killing myself and a hold over my lungs
I stopped eating when it slows me down
Shut my eyes, the doors are closed

The thought of romance
The glimpse of candlelight
The promise of lovely regret
And a flicker of hope
Though the shadow of heartache
Punctures through the ideals of love
The feelings linger as they did
That summer night, smoking bongs
And getting high,
The future solitude provides me
With the everlasting you

I prefer to watch the world
From my perched position on the beach
With my sweater and a woolen hat
Watch the world float on by,
Depression isn't a cop out, not trying to be a recluse
Just some days I don't want to leave my room
Not playing hookey from life
Sometimes I just don't want life
Just give up for weeks on end
Safe, locked tight underneath the covers
Under endless hours of reality
Sometimes I just want to be okay
Sometimes crying myself to sleep is all I know
Ill regret the times wasted dreaming endless sleep
But dreams are dreams and could you,
Dream one for me?

The waves on the beach
Crash against the shore
The crows eating my left overs
The wind blowing my hair
And the mountains painted in the Irish sky
Off season, a desolate peace
No fog on the horizon
Only sand beneath me
The hilltop houses
The little shrubs along the grass
And the shore meeting the waves
With a gentle crash

Time makes fools of us all
Leaving us with our head in our hands
Left the important things to the very last
& they keep moving on with or without us
Taking the names in the sand with it
It just keeps moving on
Spinning around our fears and following the sun
Regretting the things that were left in silence
Hoping the puzzle pieces would just happen
Time will never slow down to meet your needs
We just hope  that one day, we will be able,
Be able to catch up
Make the days blend into one
And our dreams of us could become
Once upon a time

Is it just the clothes that you are under?
Or is it your lack of posture and lack of personal portrayal
That weighs you down,  
The judging glances, and the marks your leggings make on your thighs
Its no wonder you are drinking your self to sleep,
Stuck in a rut, that no one sees you’re in
Just counting the cans and emptying the ashtrays
As your liver shrivels up and your lungs turn into charcoal
Spending your days in a lightless basement suite
Listening to British gentlemen, safe and tucked away,
From all the horrors of this crazed world of life and lust
All the sins I have committed leave me stained
With redden lips and a headache,
This glass of liquid ***** my memory and me

Music of the night,
Singing soft refrains of starlight and secret keeping shadows
The sidewalks disappear from sight, as I long for a streetlamp
To light my darkened days home
Commercials and commuters passing me by
As the life of my iPod slowly dissipates,
I hear life, without someone else’s interpretation of what
Of what I see, and of what I know
Forced to construct my own ideals, my own words of what
And of how, And if
I’ll ever make it,    
Proving to myself that failure is just a stepping stone to success
Before I pull my hair out and plump up like a pumpkin
I’ll tie my shoes and head for the door

Crooked traffic lines
Cracked ribs, and broken hearts
Another Bob Dylan song makes me cope
My mind is timeless, and my heart aches
But there is no cure for desperation
And mumbling words for praise ain’t gonna cut it
And ill end up being lonesome and ill be alone
With another 60’s melody and another overused verse
From a classic song,
And my iPod will deafen my ears to sleep

As famous souls die by the hand of celebrity
And talent falls to another pill, another tabloid
Another insecurity violated

Won’t you come over and stop making a fool out of me,

Left is time,
And another talent,
Remembered by death,
And never will those, know
That they were infamous

The world is spinning out of control
Just like my mind
When I had one too many sips
The world falling into gun control
And whites fighting for their hierarchy
The right to bare arms
Is nothing more than a figurehead position?
As another night closes with another beer
The time for sleep, has come
Or another somber, drunken attempt
At poetry

Sometimes the world shatters
And I fall underneath the weight
This balloon of wonder
Crumbles me at the brink
Life is a game
Of there’s and now’s
The future and first times
Of I definitely know how
Our generation
So used to “I want’s”
Premature ejaculations
And notorious taunts
Life is a game
That we all must play
Roll the dice of luck
And sustain the pain
Be the greater good
Something for our children
And cherish the world
That we were given

Time for sleep, the sleep of the week
So now it's sleep
Memory of tonight
The conversations
They are now "don't you remember"

*Fill to me that parting glass
Goodnight and joy be to you all

I ****** it up again,
My mind torn, and spent again
Trying to cling to something resembling a blood pool
Broken bones and cracked hearts
And I isolate myself with bottles of broken dreams
Tearing away people, revolving around t.v. shows
Stuck in a rut, I want to be in
Drowning from baseballs aimed at my vocal chords
Stuck in my head, feet won't reach the end of my bed
Stuck in a place
I can not embrace, life as it has unfolded for me

Well it seems that I have spun out of control
Days running by, pathetic and unfulfilled
Turning around, to find the place I once found
But the road disappears as the next sunsets

So I’ll keep on walking,
Making music in my head,
For I have not been able to strum a chord
I cannot stay in one place,
Apartment syndrome
My lease is up next week

No place to call home,
I just keep on walking
Trying to figure out which way to go

Sell my things, to the greater good
Just a mattress, some clothes on my back
A half smoked joint,
I have been holding on to
Some point, I will learn to love
And confess my soul, in a simple 3-chord lullaby

I still believe, music makes us listen,
Say the things in such poetic justice
Combining all of our insecurities
All of our woes, and disbeliefs
Bringing us closer together, being able to trust us

Sometimes,
Sometimes, is a good thing
Some things don’t work out
And there comes a time when,
Enough is enough
And you smell like people I pass by,
And you will not remember me,
But, sometimes, some things need to be rescued
And sometimes, we all need a little saving.
Sometimes, people are good, and less moronic nimrods
That we all, some times are

We are distracted by reality shows
And the newest iPod or MacBook
Spell check even corrects the ipod to iPod
Materialism will be the end of our freedom
And the dependence on consumer products and imported goods
Technically, Technology is a blessing and a curse
Memories of the good ol’ days will die
Hard

Dear You,

My unknown love,  
Did you see the rain gather in puddles?
Or were you too distracted by the city life?
Watch the headlights as you run across the street
Or focus on the light turning red,

Did you see me drink that glass?
Or hear me cough

Do you like the way it turned out?
All the pieces fit perfect

Or, are you like me,
Pretending
That this is what you want

I struggle through school
I struggle through my emotions
Everyday is a challenge
I put up a jubilant front
But sometimes I get low
Grow into a ball of limbs and torso
Wrapping myself away,
Creating a shell of ifs and whens
Hot flashes and sweated dreams
Constantly spinning out of control and back again
Living for the remember, times past seem like moments better then they should
And I sit on my mattress and sheets
Circling in and out of depression

The media swings information into the air
Innocently as a child spreads a lie
In charge of their own idea of reality and knowledge
Casting glimpses and burning holes in the stories and bombs
Does anyone care?
Care
Enough to read between the periods and well rehearsed tears
Law binding, right breaking polices of how and when
Single file lines and caged boardwalks
A foot away from bar codes and eye authorization
Slowly morphing into a well oiled death toll
I could be helpless, you could be heroic

So many things to think about,
Not too many to talk about
Some things are better kept locked
In a dark foreboding too
The time misleads the hands and feet
Walking aimlessly around 100 mile town
Broken down and out of society
Away
The time misleads eyes and ears
Straining at the rainbow for the ever after
Stuck in the rain, drenched and far
Alone

Coming to the final project and final Artist Statement of my days at Emily Carr University. I am more confused about Art, and what makes Art, Art. I have tried different things, some better than others, some worse.  I have used different formats, different film sizes and different subject matters and focal points.  However, The last ideas that I have shared have not gone over as happily as I would have liked.  So, yet again, I find myself changing my project to please my peers and faculty. While doing so, I have lost why I fell in love with photography in the first place. Forgot all about my photography award in High School. Forgot about taking pictures of everything I see. I did that for me, and now it feels like Art has become some kind of popularity contest of who is more abstract and charged, something we’ve never seen before. But I feel everything is already been done, in one way or another.

With sharing this, I do not feel, I can even remotely come up with something completely new and have some philosophical subjective interpretation of whether a picture of a leaf is just a leaf, or a tiny glimpse of global warming, or a sign that fall has once again, fell.   To quote Andy Warhol, “Art is what is what you can get away with”.  Has art really become, whatever we can ******* our way through?

I feel completely drained of any creative ideas or thoughts. So I have decided to do something for me. I have taken pictures of different places or things in my apartment.  In black and white, with 120 film on RC paper.  They are on 11x14-sized paper. I decided that photography was once a way to keep all the moments of my life kept, safe and documented. And this is what I plan to do. Document the place where I have been banging my head up and down the 4 walls of this space, trying to come up with something magical. Instead, I took a more literal route, and focused on the space I was in, trying to not create something for an institution and something for my personal archives.  I think we as artists, and as individuals can all take some wisdom from Oscar Wilde when he said, “It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.”  As I am my own toughest critic, I do not see myself in the art I have created over the past couple of years, therefore I don’t feel as if my practice is truly reflects my voice as an artist. Thus, I plan to create something within myself for myself.

Spare bricks for the wall that could never find a successor
Collect historical evidence, as we forgot the books we read
Seems the songs have all been sung, all the strings have snapped
Fallen battles man, fought men and children
Worms and you, filling your 2 bedrooms with another self made reality
MTV created a life of insta, what do they even contribute?

Snooki lives in a basement, and heroes in everyday rags
Hunter S. blew his brains out, where has his words scattered?

Little black books, with numbers and phrases
To choose from the moments I created
Disowned onto a 3-hole punch line

And yet my mind seems vacant with all these empty trophies reflecting…

Chained to a world our parents knew, stuck with the ideals of an old dream
Trying to find out how it all, somehow, disappeared,
Struggling to find new ways to make the pieces fit

Is there anyone home?
The piano rings the last note,
As the day breaks from another clouded illusion
**"Of what is and was"

Here is the place, we once knew
Where all the colours of the rainbow,
Where they all came to die
The non-existent hues are overthrown by the contrast of past showers
As staring at an old photograph, curled and brown from light
The shadowless walls absorb the rays and consume them into a mere squint
Pushed back towards the white bricks as you struggle to balance yourself
Trying to explain but slurring speech is equivalent to my spelling
And the corner I am managed to find, is cold and bright too know, what this means

I wish I could write like Paul Simon,
“Time hurries on” As the days go from day to night
And the words had my head dissipates with the morning light
“Be careful, his bowtie is really a camera”
Constantly viewing things in different ways,
Books and books of my scribbled mumbles,
Only writing when I am constant, transient,
Wishing, for a cigarette, I know, Ill have to wait
Trying to bring the darkness onto paper
Trying to narrate some internal monologue between my selves
To spew out those tarnished replicas
To unleash the butterflies
While drowning the wings, with a technical solution
...The dangling conversation, reflecting the rhymes,
superficial lies,
The time of our lives
reaped with cobwebs in my mind

Bring out your dead,
All willing bodies stand your ground
This is the art of ruin,
Hold your scaffolds high
And your morals low
Bring out the monopolies and the cash crop
Raise them on a pedestal made for some kind of Greek legend
A heroic fight for what was, and an attempt to untie the knot
Brake the shackles of man made, rediscover the stream
Search for the trickster, and watch where he goes

I’m hiding my emotions,
I stare into the blank road,
Watch the people pass,
Winter winds blow
The shoes on my feet,
Wet with snow
Why I cannot have a peaceful dream
I am tainted with you,
I can only write about you,
It’s always been there,
But you ruined me,
****** me up,
I ****** up you too.
I miss you,
Its still only you
The stars I see, you see too

Why are my dreams haunted with the past?
Why can I not just live and let live,
Do I love misery?
Do I love being a pawn in this depression game?
Even though, I hold all the cards,
Do I not want to let the past die?
Wake up with the last I remember when?
You seem to be some kind of disease,
That flourishes when I try to be some kind of writer
Art never came from happiness, isn’t that what they say?
Do I love reflecting on the past?
Do I not want to let you go?
I don’t,
Missing something you let go makes you crumble,

The nights are few and scattered
The memories last forever
I cant seem to want to stop
Listening to your tune
Replaying it,
Over and over
Thinking if I wish it will be different
Something could from silence
But I know that’s just wishing on a lucky pair of snake eyes
I don’t gamble,
But I just cannot seem to let the object of my affection
Reach anywhere but you

I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place
I love you, this is
Undeniable
But I do not love you the way you wish me too
These fruit flies flying through the air
Make me swat the harsh times away
I have discovered that,
I cannot love the way young love does
I cannot be something you lean on
I cannot even lean my own shoulders
The future is grand, but I’m leaving you
I love you, but I cannot love you

Merry Christmas, you filthy animal
Here is a scarf to pay your rent
And some of this seasons slippers to eat
You had the world within your grip: I gave it to you
Why bother with education, you just graduated
Just so you know, I wont help you and you’ll never leave
You’ll never make it, Mary has been nothing but nice to you
You are welcome to come down and eat with us

*That wont be an awkward conversation

I cant breathe
These cigarettes are making me faint
These stairs I climb to come home
Seem like a never-ending stairwell, I can never seem to conquer
I fall victim to these beers to make me some lyrical and woeful
To unleash the words that writer’s block ties from my sobriety
To show I am a somebody who can write down the things people cannot bare to tell
To let these emotions I hide and tuck away,
Have them come to the surface, break way for the futile few who never could
The colours of the wind and the true colours of our society

Flowers you have ruin my towers
My towers above chivalry and chauvinistic ideals
They push out the prohibitions of useless propaganda
For me, alcoholic toxins appeal to my lyrical woes
I think ambiguously when I feel numb and freed of obligations
And the curls of my toes,
Don’t wrinkle with the ties of man

Invisible tears streaming down my face
These tears that you can not see,
It’s almost as if they were not there to begin with
Like its some ******-somatic reaction to something I have no longer
As if,  I might always have some kind of longing to the yesterday
How memory leads us to believe the past is some idealist future
When I find out what life has to offer, the stars that went out
We fall back in love with the light
And green grasses will pave the way to the end
And everything will fall into the place as it should, on the chessboard of life

I take your voice wherever I go,
I don’t wish too,
I wait for you, but you never waited for me, to find
Whatever I was trying to find
A heartbroken ending seems to never be the end
This t-shirt I made smells like you
And the words of Mike Rosenberg, say the things I tried too,
Accompanied metaphors I would never had thought of
Eyes are gathering droplets, and the days keep flipping by
Another year has come to a close, and still it is as if no time,
No time has past at all

Just one sip to recall the memories back into view
My liver may be constructed better than others,
It works with the ambience of the dark days
It rekindles the holes in my life, brings forward the words to express
A valiant attempt at understanding the wild ones, who beat their own hearts
A somber tune of regret and footprints never-ending
Seems the best decision is to continue on this road where the lights dim every hour
Some kind of vagabond following the stars to find something worth finding

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,  
Raven calling from the sky
Bluebirds calling from summer
Seagulls squawking from the alley

I have found something I lost
The state of euphoria is crumbled as your heart breaks
I lost a time when life was simple, when wondering was lustful
Instead found a time of hardship and unsettled communities
Sometimes I think what if the yellow brick road never continued to Oz
And if the clouds were always supported by blue
Californication with out the fault.
A witness to the empty sky

I sit; I sit in a curled up ball of skin and tattoos
I sit; I sit naked on the floor of my shower
The water flowing over my rolls and dripping from my hair
You think you understand the haste of my rash conflictions
I try to live the lie out, I try to peruse the ever after
I hold the flame underneath the water, and wonder why I am cold?
How does the pain of life subside?
How do I become millions and then back to debt?
Opened my eyes under water, and I am freed of tears

Today is the day for the followed few
The ears of old and eyes of new
The fallen propaganda waves for notice
This ideal, this condominium – you chose it  
The pavement is harsh and burning
The trees need salvation: they’re yearning,
For the day of sun soaked shadows,
Not this boxed world framed from a window
Pick up your shoes: pull up your socks
Plan a plan, before it all just
stops