11:15PM
Process Log
Day 1:
\ I began my research on the general background of gang violence. I have previously investigated gang history for my own information because I find the topic rather fascinating. So I revisited a few half forgotten sites and renewed my base knowledge of Gang lore.
Day 2:
I began to take notes. I called Michael Gural, who I knew had a very broad knowledge of the topic, and he was very helpful in giving me particular names to research as well as cases that went on throughout the decades
http://www.streetgangs.com/history/hist01.html
http://www.gripe4rkids.org/his.html
A poet,
would put it into beautiful rhymes, with imagery that would shame a mountain scape, or the clear water of a quiet stream...
An artist,
would paint it with colors and make it into a heavenly, shinning thing.
Abstract lines that distract the eye and confuse the heart. A canvas that would make cheeks wet with tears...
A philosopher,
would ponder on it for weeks and months. Searching endlessly for the answer to what makes it what it is...
A child,
would make it into some simple thing, so easy to grasp, yet so hard to reach. The safety of a mother's arms. The innocence of infant play...
A musician,
would write a song that tore through your soul and spoke to thousands, bringing people around the world to their feet. Haunting melodies that are so hard to remember, yet impossible to forget...
I am not any of these things.
I am a lover, a dreamer.
And admirer of the cruel, bitter-sweet elegance of it.
I know nothing of it but it's name.
The name I long to hear you spill from your lips into my starved ears.
I call it, Love.
Temporary moments.
Fleeting feelings that rush through veins.
Melting sorrows that twist in sweet pain.
The pulse in your throat, the beat in your chest,
strong like that pull from my midnight cigarette.
Three words, three syllables.
carefully described in poems and philosophies.
With my fingertips I could trace every line of your face
Lips and eyelashes, jaw and neck.
I touch what is only half mine.
Raindrops from faucets.
Dances to silent melodies.
Trust that all things end.
Don't believe in forever.
Believe in the moment.
Falling feels like flying,
until you hit the ground.
She says she's sick of crying,
please, pour another round.
He holds her hand still smiling...
she doesn't make a sound.
into gentle ears he's lying,
She's lost, and thinks she's found.
Dear Mike.
Well, I know for sure, that soon enough, I'm going to have to let you in on my creepy little secret.
You're all suspicious as to how I have all these friends from different networks on my facebook, and sooner or later, im going to have to show you...whatever the hell this thing is. I dunno, I've kinda been doing this for a long time now, I dont tell many people about it. Hope you don't think its too weird...
but umm. I dunno, I figure I might as well go ahead and talk to you about all the stuff we never get around to talking about...or maybe stuff Im too embarrassed to say to you in person...not that it wont be any less embarrassing having you read it but whatever. Ur not a very romantic guy, sorry to say, lol, not that thats too much of a bad thing, but it just makes saying some of the stuff I want to say to you awkward. Cuz I've always been a hopeless romantic, ever since I was small. But the great thing about you is...you're my boyfriend...yes, but you're also like somewhat of a best friend. I dont have to pretend to be someone I'm not around you. I can say stuff like: My footsies are cold, and :Give me kisses! And as much as you make fun of me, you'll end up warming up my cold footsies, or giving me my kisses.
You humor me with so much. You put up with so much from me, it's insane. And sometimes I wonder, which one of us is the lucky one. You're sure as hell not that lucky to have me, Im so far from perfect its painful...And Im not saying you're Jesus or anything...it's just. You're smart for one thing, if not a genius in school, you know what you're doing, and know what you're talking about almost all of the time. You never get yourself into anything you cant get out of, and never say anything unless it's true...or you honestly think it is.
I like you best with music.
Sitting in the back seat of a car, a serious beat comes on and you're suddenly all alive, bouncing in your seat, barking. lmfao. Singing the lyrics to me or anyone else who'll listen. You make me laugh, and smile so much. I actually cant remember the last time i smiled with my real smile more than my fake one. I also cant remember the last time someone could tell the difference between the two.
i dunno what the fuck im trying to say.
It's prolly cuz of this stupid movie i saw or whatever, and i dunno, at least now, if you die tmorro or something, you'll know that you're kinda awesome, and yes I did notice.
And sometimes...i know i bitch alot, and I try not too...but no matter what I say, or what you think I'm trying to say...life is too short to be angry with you, too short to waste pouting because you want to play your stupid game for a minute. Just, you make me happy so much sometimes, that I forget I should be trying to make you happy too, and thus, the bitching. Ill try and cut back on that lol. Sorry...
but yeah....if this was too mushy for you, my bad. But you prolly know me a lot better than most people now, after reading all this shit hahahah.
luv ya babbbyyyyyyyyy <3
~Alix
Dear RJ:
I hate you.
I wish I could put it into softer words, but I'm no longer willing to lie to myself.
I. Fucking. Hate. You.
My dad's been considering leaving. Indirectly because of you, and how you changed me. I'm sure it's not entirely your fault, It's partially my fault of course, for being naive enough to let you break me the way you did, but I cant seem to hate myself the way I hate you. Infact, if anything, I like myself more for making it through it. Letting you tear away all that was good in my life. Letting you make me believe that that was how I was supposed to be treated.
Every guy that came after you, was the same. Cold, emotionally abusive. Addicted to one thing or another. They even had the same taste in clothes, music, and each had spectacular eyes, eyes that reminded me of you. I let them use me too. I let you use me for months after you took me and then disappeared.
But then...I met Mike.
Mike cares about me. He calls me when he says he's going to. He gets jealous when I talk to other guys. He makes time for me every day not just every week He calles me Babe and kisses me on the forehead. he makes sure I eat enough, and makes sure I wont be cold when we go out. He picks on me playfully, but yells at anyone else who tries to do the same. We argue. Because I'm not afraid to tell him when he does something I don't agree with. I've cried once, but not because of something he'd done. But because of something I'd done to disappoint him.
Mike is everything you are not.
And I just wanted you to know, I'm very happy. I'm finally very, very happy.
And I just wanted to say, you fucking missed out ass hole.
It could have been you. You could have had me and you lost you're chance.
And You have no idea, how much I would love to send you this letter.
And I would too, If I didn't already know you'll be too high to read it by the time it gets to you.
Hope you don't die of an overdose.
tootles!
Miss Alixandra
I miss those days.
the way they smelled.
I dunno. Somehow, back then, everything smelled different...fresher, cleaner.
Of course, you're cologne was my favorite of all the scents..because it meant you were close.
And when you were close...damn. I felt like I was flying. Next to you, with your arms around me, your lips hungry for mine. My stomach would explode in a shower of butterflies every time you looked at me.
Literally, you were all that was ever on my mind, and I would have given to world up to lie beside you, under the sheets on your bed forever.
Now though...northing's the same. All the colors have been dulled, and all the wonderful scents of life have aged and grown stale. Sometimes, I get a tiny wiff of the past, and for one moment, my heart seems to sing, then I remember...
We are not matching pieces to the puzzle. In fact, sometimes, I wonder if we're from two completely different puzzles all together.
You are exactly as you were back then, hard, cold, unchanged by time. I used to think you were the one that was different...but now I know that I am. I have grown up since you last held me and I felt comfortable with you. I can see your flaws, and your weaknesses, and making love with you feels awkward, and cheap.
But for all that I lost to my past, I gained something new from the present. Confidence, knowledge, strength. I don't need you to feel beautiful, I don't need you to feel loved. My own arms hold me through the night times, and I am all I need to live. I dont try as hard any more, because I know I don't need to.
Why should I seek yours, or anyone else's approval but my own? Why should the way you smell so good, and kiss me so gently matter? It did once.
But things change.
The love died.
People fade in and out of lives.
And you keep fading out of mine.
Please. Stay that way.
I'm tired of remembering.
And all you are is an old memory,
waiting to be forgotten.
music is my hott sex by Cansei De Ser Sexy
Someone told me once...
it doesn't matter what people think of you. It only matters what you think of yourself.
That's bullshit.
This world is built upon image.
It doesn't matter who you are, or what kind of person you have the potential to be.
Good or bad, everything you do can be interpreted two ways.
It's not the consequences of your actions that matter.
It's the way the world interprets your actions.
You can hustle money left right and center, chop cocaine, deal heroin, and murder people.
But if you tuck in your shirt, tighten up that tie and smile for the pictures that aren't really being taken, no one will see the monster beneath those pearly whites.
They will see nothing but a well dressed man with a charming smile, and assume you're an upstanding citizen, out only to do good in the world.
You are what everyone says you are.
If you're accused wrongly of a crime, people assume you are guilty. Because human beings are quick to jump to the worst possible conclusions. We're all so goddamn eager to see the worst in everyone. We gather like wolves, judging, and prosecuting.
No one can plead innocent to such a crime. We are all guilty.
Everyone judges, no one is neutral. The world is a spinning globe of fucking hypocrisy. We tear into our neighbors to draw attention away from our own dark secrets and delicately tip toe our way out of the spot light.
We are whatever the public tells us we are.
We are whatever everyone else assumes we are.
It doesn't matter if your intentions are good.
The only thing that matters, is the intentions of others.
Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask How are you?
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say,"Hi"
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift..
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
http://www.blurty.com/talkread.bml?journal=ashnevra&itemid=47368
i tried to be everything you ever wanted.
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