Sunday, November 24, 2013

Ashkan Honarvar

"depicts an undeniable, unavoidable beauty by accepting the darker sides of human 'nature'"
Check out the art of Ashkan Honarvar

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Dream Journal Entry #6 - James Franco

James Franco helped me drag my bags into his home. "Your room's straight down the hallway, to the left."


I went on and took my jacket off, hung it on a hook behind my bedroom door and went back out to ask what was for lunch. 

James Franco was carrying a black shoulder sling bag, trying to roll giant pieces of colored paper into a cylinder. I guessed we weren't having lunch together. 

"I wanna do that for a living too," I half-joked, trying to fill the silence with some kind of something. 

James mumbled something under his breath.

"What'd you say?" I asked sweetly.

James just smiled at me, in a way that wasn't so much at me, more like, in spirit of me, with his eyes to the floor. I was getting really annoyed. He started struggling with his giant paper cylinders towards the door.

"Hey, don't just go. Tell me what you said."

"What?" he said, smiling at the floor again.

"You can't just mumble something under your breath every time and not share it," I was getting a bit snappy. 

James Franco dumped his rolled pieces of colored paper on the floor, along with his bag. He started punching walls. These ones didn't hole. I was starting to get scared but didn't want him to see that. He was pacing now, breathing heavily as he started to turn red.

"Dipshit. Little dipshit," he mumbled again - I caught that one. 

"You're calling me a dipshit?"

He began to let out these caveman groans. Okay, so I should've kept quiet from here, but I didn't.

"How can I be living with someone who's just called me a dipshit? I haven't even been here 5 minutes and you already can't stand me." Of course he didn't see the relevance of the question.


He paced quickly over to his beautiful L-shaped sofa, took a corner with one hand and threw it against the wall effortlessly. Every breath he took now he'd scream "STIPSHIT!" after.

"James, stop. Why don't you have any respect for me? Is it because I'm not holding my own yet?" Serious question at a seriously inappropriate time. 

At that he finally turned his gaze towards me. I didn't actually know if that was a great thing. His eyes were full of rage and I was shaking, but of course I didn't want him to see that. "STIPSHIT!" he screamed before heading over to me and pushing me against his giant work desk. I hit the table hard on impact, it shifted out of position. I fell onto the floor against it, and couldn't believe this was happening, again. I was officially terrified and helpless.

"James, please stop. Please," I begged. I started to cry.

He didn't stop. STIPSHIT STIPSHIT STIPSHIT! As he walked over to me I tucked my head into my knees and closed my eyes. He started kicking the right side of my body. Every kick almost broke my ribs. Or I swore he was going to.

I was crying, "James, don't. What're you doing?"

I was lying on my left now and he started kicking my head. His kick increased strength slowly, but surely, to the point I was sure my head was going to fly off. "You're going to kill me," I stammered between my breaths. 

I locked eyes with him for a brief moment hoping to have maybe made him realize, oh yeah, I should stop now, don't want to kill her. But no.

At that, James Franco crushed my skull. 


Felt my skull crush, woke up after of course. 

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Anais Nin - The Moon

For women who are tied to the moon, love alone is not enough. We insist each day wrap it’s knuckles through our heart strings and pull. The lows. The joy. The poetry. We dance at the edge of a cliff, you have fallen off. So it goes. You will climb up again. 
You rare girl, once again, you have a body that belongs to no lover, to no father, belongs to no one but you. Wear your sorrow like the lines on your palm. Like a shawl to keep you warm at night. Don’t mourn the love that is lost to you now. It is a book of poems whose meters worked their way into your pulse. Even if it has slipped from your hands, it will stay in your body. 
You loved a man who treated you like absinthe, half poison and half god. He tried to sweeten you, to water you down. So you left. And now you have your heart all to yourself again. A heart like a stone cottage. Heart like a lover’s diary. Hope like an ocean. 
–  Letter from Anais Nin to Clementine Von  Radics 

Friday, November 8, 2013

Chuang Tzu

“The fish trap exists because of the fish. Once you’ve gotten the fish you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit. Once you’ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning. Once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so I can talk with him?”
– Chuang Tzu 

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Dream Journal Entry #5 - White Figure

Note: Typing this I was more focused on keeping my brain in the same calm rhythms as it was the minute I woke up. I've compromised the usual descriptiveness as I was trying to get this all out before I forgot the main bits. It's a long one.


I was seated on a hospital bed, tweeting about it. Something to do with my lungs. G tweeted back, asking how I was and I didn't reply. 

I got home just before sunset and he was already there. Orange hues from the sun filtering in through the giant windows of the living room, making shadows with the sheer white curtains and the pot plants. It was beautiful. He asked how I was, I shrugged and smiled, "fine." We spoke about things twitter related, one of them was a girl he flirts with on there - Lydia of the Shi (or something along those lines lol) and I listened politely.

He reached out to me and had me sit on the sofa beside him. "Deb I have feelings for you."

If I had food in my mouth I would've spat it out to the other side of the room.  "You're joking." 

"No, I'm not."

I sat there, really confused. He put his hand on my knee. I looked at him, "you decided that just now?" 

"No I realized it."


"Minute I found out you've been going to hospital. I felt something - here," he gestured a fist to his chest comically. 

I leaned my head on his shoulder sighing, "what the hell."

He leaned back, lying length ways on the sofa, and gestured for me to lie in his arms, so I did. It was a comforting relief I felt, and a shock because who'd ever see that coming. I lay with him, my hand resting on his chest, looking into the distance. He didn't get pissed at my lack of reaction, he knew I was tired from hospital, shocked and taking it in. No explaining. 

I liked that about him.

We started talking about other things, and exchanging laughs. I started joking about Lydia of the Shi and he joked about this girl I was close to - Carmen. Was fun.

I reached to kiss the corner of his lips. He closed his eyes and grinned as I did it. As he opened his eyes he smiled at me, and asked me to do it again. I got up on my arm and leaned in, slowly this time. It was an extremely long kiss -  slow, sensual, and full of fire. 

We pulled away slowly, hooked deep into eachothers eyes, smiling. I leaned my arm over his shoulder as he lay, head on my hand, looking down at him, taking in his eyes, and that smile.

Fast forward to a new day.

I was back home again, but it was day. There was a huge family reunion. My dead grandpa was there, very much alive and healthy, and so was my uncle who never makes an appearance. I hung out with gramps the whole time. We talked sport, and he asked me about my life, butting in to agree with me, or disagree and enlighten me with his wisdom. 

My uncle came into the room asking if I wanted tea and coffee. "Both?" I asked.

"Yes, you have coffee after the tea. And I make the best blends. No 3-in-1s."

"This is interesting! Show me."

I gestured at gramps to come join me, but he cooly nodded up at me to go ahead and walked over to his towel, grabbed it, slipped out the room.

Tito mixed 3 kinds of leafy herbal mixtures. I sniffed out each of them. One was obviously mint, the other was some rose/berry mix - and the other I can't remember. He made a pot of it for me. It smelled divine.

"Drink that slowly and when you're done, I'll make your coffee for dessert."

"I didn't know you were into all this!" 

"Things reveal themselves at the right time." He winked at me and patted my back and was out the room. 

I followed after him sipping on my tea. The rest of the family positioned in the dining area. 



It was Carmen, raising her hand up at me from the other side of the room. She hurried her way over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist pulling me in for a hug.

I was trying not to scald myself with the tea.

"Not so excited to see me?"

"Forgive me, I'm trying to avoid a second degree burn." 

She flicked her eyes over to the mug in my hand, "oh."

Carmen was so beautiful, so so beautiful; but a real kid drama queen. She demanded attention and she demanded it now. She likes conflict, a lot. Through the evening she started issues out of nothing, to which I sat there blankly staring at my family, smiling at whoever'd look at us.

That night she came into bed and we made out. She wanted more but I told her I was tired. She huffed at me and nagged at me but eventually she fell asleep.

Next morning I woke up and she wasn't next to me. I dragged myself out of bed looking for her around the house. 

Spotted. Coming out the kitchen with a tray full of breakfast and OJ. 

"Spiked. Just the way you like it" she pulls off domesticated well, although it doesn't have me fooled.

"You didn't have to."

"I knew you'd say that."

So at this point I was completely over the passive aggressiveness. In any case I smiled and was polite. "Thank you."

I went back to the living room to get my phone. On silent, 1 missed call, 2 texts. They were from G. One asking how I was, the next saying that he's just checking up on me, and to call back when I can. No pressure.

I liked that about him too. 

I brought the phone back to the dining room and texted him back:

Ah, I've got stories to tell you. Lets meet up again soon.

Carmen was still in her domesticated wife routine, "sweety, who're you texting?"


"Oh. How is he?" she's known I've liked him forever. She hated him because of that.

"He's great." 

I put the phone in my pocket and finished breakfast. 

Skip forward to the evening and I was coming home from work. 

The elevator was broken so I had to take the stairs to the 11th floor. Good exercise, I thought to myself. On my way up reaching the fourth floor there was a figure in the corner, just standing there. He was in a white cloak, a white mask that had a long nose, curving down, and a white cone shaped hat. 

I was trying to brush it off and act cool. I acknowledged it in my mind, was shit scared, but acted sif I didnt see a thing. Thought it could've been a prank. Or a hallucination. Continued walking up.

On every floor, the figure stood in the same corner. All up until the 11th, where I had to actually open the door right beside him to get out of the stairwell. 

I did my nightly routine, then headed to bed. Texting G as I was snug under the doona, I felt a presence in the room. Soon after, the same figure in the stairwell walked straight past my bed. He brushed so close to me his cape caressed my arm. 

I have no idea what dream me was thinking but dream me thought she was just so tired and stressed out she was hallucinating.

I sent G a e-kiss goodnight, and went to bed. 

Skip through to the evening of the following day. The elevator was working and when I got home, I didn't bother with the lights. It was a full moon and it shone beautifully through the giant windows. I placed my things on the sofa, took off my clothes, chucked them there too, and walked over to my bed, naked, taking nothing but my phone with me. Tiring day of work I think.

I got Skype up ready to chat to G. As soon as he replied, I heard the sound notification come out from somewhere distant. I thought again to myself, thought I must be hallucinating again. 

So I sent a lengthy chat msg, trying to fit one of the stories I had from work into a paragraph for G's amusement, hit send. He was typing a lengthy one, but when he finally sent it, I heard the sound notification again.

This time I finally figured I wasn't dreaming it. I got up with the bed's throw over wrapped around me - it was cold, and I was starting to admit to myself I was spooked. Carrying the phone in my hand, G must've been typing short messages, a joke, a question, maybe a "haha" because the notifications were chiming in, one after the other. Ah ha, the desktop in the study corner of the living room. 

What was it doing on? I thought to myself. I rarely use my desktop.

Someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned around slowly, shaking, it was the white figure. He took off his mask and headpiece. 

He was a she, and she was Carmen.

"What the he-"

She smiled at me and pushed a knife through the throw over wrapped around me and into my stomach.

I dropped my phone and, collapsed on my knees. "What the hell."


So anyway I died, and I figure she was pissed I was 1) talking to G and also the Skype convo that revealed 2) G and I were trying things out. 

That was honestly the longest most complex dream I've had or been able to remember since highschool. Amazing. I wish I dreamt like that every night.