Never have I ever

been named after a city in Mexico!

...

I'm looking at you Tijuana!

The Wackness

I got mad love for you shorty.

Bungie-jumping in UCL

Dam

I know your iris better than I know myself. 

Iris the rainbow and Icarus who fell from it, feathers lost one by one till he spiraled into the ocean and drowned. Drowning in the ocean of your eyes, I despise how we do nothing despite all of life’s troubles. Mumbles is all we can manage in our state of amnesia haze. Like narcissus staring in his own reflection I stare at you for time immemorial, is this memorable? Thoughts and thoughts and thinking about what it was I was thinking about. My eyes burn and the blunt’s burnt out, how much time has passed? I pass it to you and you ablaze it with life. Life goes by, by the way what is life? 

A heavy numbness seized Daphne her feet so swift a moment ago stuck fast in slow-growing roots, her face was lost in the canopy, and she become a tree, trees, leaves, grass. The grass hopper we’re sitting in as we hop from high to low. Staring into middle distance, middle of the road, middling through life, middle finger pushed into the table to check that I can still feel.

Numbness, nests of thoughts pocketed in my mind, lost to comprehension. The walls kick like a womb, to the baseline of an unknown song, a song playing for hours, so many hours. My senses are gone, what sense does it make to move, I feel immovable like nature, a natural, neutral state of nothingness. Neutral is my gear of life, this gear making a cloud from my exhale, a hailstorm of tiny pins fall onto my mind, mindful of the tingling I fall back into my seat. The first move for so long, the longest moment stretching before you and I. I know you and I are thinking the same thing, telling each other stories without words, words are impossible to pronounce, to produce to persuade out of my body. The air between us hangs with a haze of thoughts, my head hangs and I hang onto this moment. I feel nothing and think.

I think therefore I am,

and I am, I know I am… about to be sick.

Amnesia Haze

Amsterdam 02/03/12- 05/03/12

Amnesia haze
Cheese
Moby Dick
White Widow

That's so dam
Ultimate road cross part 1
Try every hot chocolate in every coffee shop.
The morning shift of the red lights.
I can't move
Bummer
I only want you when I'm coming down
shazam that shit
It's a high! It's definitely a high!
Grasshopper
What are purple lights?!
I want some chips with some mayonnaise
Tijana you can't get a guy because you're the most annoying person I've ever met.
Can you just shut up.
Dont eat then
No singing or dancing in public.
I don't think you're listening to anything I've just said, I'm not going to the van gogh museum.

Every day I pray,

I pray for it to be gulash day.

LFW

Literally a Fucking Waste.

Photos: Twenty8Twelve and Math Collective

Our Window

I dreamt of you last night. And in my dream I was telling myself to remember this exact moment and everything about it because memories fade and we forget, then I woke up and all I remember of the dream is the feel of your skin.

It's strange how one room can make and break so much.

One tiny room that you had made your own, with a rug and a red velvet throw, a Russian mug and books. A Beatles pillow and school boy covers, a guitar, a laptop and speakers. The familiarities of that room made me feel so safe, always the same things on the bulletin board, my maldives flight ticket left on your desk for weeks. The wardrobe with only the casual 'essentials' of tweed and silk shirts mixed with indian materials. An orange ribbon you used as a hair band, espadrilles and your winklepicker boots I hated so much. Listening to the same acoustic mellow as we lay face to face on the tiny single bed, just staring for hours. At night waking up from the purring radiator next to my head and watching you sleep. All the different days of events, outfits, times and emotions but still the same place and the same thing.

Your guitar, my hair.

Like the seasons outside I watched you bloom and mature.

From your shy face hiding behind a pillow to coming in drunk and collapsing face-first onto the bed.

When I came back from the Maldives neither of us wanted to admit to missing each other. Instead we talked endlessly and in the end you held me like never before, sat there on your bed in that tiny room.

I had been a 'positive influence' on you, I inspired you to do better and for this you loved me.

Packing the entire content of that room into one car.

With no space for memories, just things, piles of things I don't even remember seeing, things that had been hiding under the bed we lay in.

We stood in that empty room on last time. You kissed me and said nothing would change, why would it? But despite the emptiness, everything we had was left in that room. Like a time capsule. Everything I loved.

In the car between us there was a shotgun.

I walk past it now and smile on times spent in that tiny room and try desperately to remember them because I don't know who you are now. That boy from the room is not there anymore.

'I have nothing

I have no one

I've been so quickly set free.'