my path was hijacked…

we all have our visions — guided dreams of our forever lives. with the weight of our love. declaring us still. into a known place.
and i had mine.
i dreamt of knowing. having certainty. pointing my finger. towards a direction. having a stance. of where i was sure.

but then someone stole it. right at the moment. when the lines in the road. started to appear. new, passing stripes. with calculated corners. fresh from earlier paint. sinking into the asphalt. heat-rising waves. being pulled up into the sun. having a place. of knowing where to go.
someone then came. and he blended the lines raw. now dirty with prints. smeared with intention. forceful swipes. and he made a home. inside my head. and wore my skin. to hide his shit.

and i just never understood. exactly what he did. until it became too late. a forced rear-view. sucking the breath out of my lungs. like seeing the car crash. right as you pass. a machine in your hands. trying to steer. towards and away. wondering about the carnage. that then shows up in your new dreams. forcing you to see. the other dreams. you left behind. some years later. while away from home.

so you see. it’s not just about believing. when someone cries out. making sure their story. fits right into place. it’s also about knowing. that they’re just lost. trying to find. the path back to themselves. struggling to see. their confident lines. in the dreams where they were traveling. before someone. wiped it away.


Test Dept (Assembly of Disturbance)

Had the amazing pleasure assisting a recording of a live show last weekend at a 3-day music festival called Assembly of Disturbance. It featured many incredible industrial/noise/techno acts that I would have NEVER known of, being new to the city.








Caught the amazing Hanna Sawtell (sorry for the non-landscape mode):

And learned so much about Test Dept — an industrial band that started in the 80s and was super influential with their intense live shows (with many handmade instruments) and political awareness.
(Apologies for the sound quality.)

tim buckley


manages the pull.subsides the fear.remains the focus.quiets the space.with a blanketing lull.leveling out.the slightest tides.waves discerning.the whites of the wash.fortifying their the other side.the darkest face.of the still moon.

the night does its sing of peace.while grumbles in my belly.echo.

me to sleep.

51.5074° N, 0.1278° W

Finally made it over.


Drastic changes are better without any expectations — which is why I overreach.

I’ve been lost in a city before, traveling and site-seeing alone, so the newness isn’t something intimidating to me.

But being lost and site-seeing in one of the largest cities in the world is definitely a change. I feel parts of Chicago and New York for sure, but add those together and throw in a large, bustling and alley-only Chinatown, the most amount of languages spoken you’d ever hear in one day, 2-leveled busses with three stops every mile (or every 1.609344km), the classic/modern/gothic/renaissance/art deco architecture and the robust history behind the country and I think it’s London.

But what do I know…I’ve only been here for 6 days.




The fortitude of my emotions strangles the process. How do I back down to then prevail?

The division between the internal and the external can be the line. Mining all my worry into dust. The sifting of sorrow — breaking thoughts, shaken clean.

So maybe that time is now, to belly-up the divide.

I’m holding the guilt of my mother — I can curve that into the light.

And the weight of my lover…I have to give up sight and find our freedom in trust.

I’m screaming out the silence of my feel — a multi-directional break. How it takes so much more to control.

So I gather myself at the window, perched high and at noon. The brightest star, traveling through. Blinding me still.

“Just take me with you,” I pray. Hoping to scare myself free.

So now, I document.

I believe I’m going to London to attend Goldsmiths University to study sonic arts. I say “I believe” because I have a few more hoops to jump through to make sure I’m able to go (financing/visa). But I’ve been accepted and will be there for a year. It’s a switch/a jump/the difference between light and dark/near and far/zero and one.

But I struggle with it. I struggle with it because it’s a risk. Which pushes me to go even more. And I’m not sure, but I might not be going alone, which would double the risk in so many directions. Either way, it’s a definitive mark, which makes me feel more and more that I have to go.