where for Art thou

[steveo]

This song is the first ive written in a long time with guitar and everything. Hopefully ill have it posted later today so i can get some feedback. But here are the lyrics. I'm proud of it.

Picture all your dreams coming true
With a path all made out just for you
And it seems that everything couldnt be better
and you realize, this is forever

You're walking down your childhood street
And you finally see what makes ends meet
Your first kiss, Winters bliss, or the one you wished
and you realize, this is forever

This is too much you say
And im not too far away
All you need to is to come clean
And ill build you a time machine

Oh, i see it all to well
When your life goes to heaven from hell
And you realize, you'll live forever
Oh, you think your mirror can tell
But it's just a reflection not your wishing well
And you realize, you'll live forever

This isn't enough you say
And my reach is to much to sway
Am i a possibility?
Or can't you even see me

Oh, i see it all to well
When your life goes to heaven from hell
And you realize, you'll live forever
Oh, you think your mirror can tell
But it's just a reflection not your wishing well
And you realize, you'll live forever

[intentionallyleftblank]

pretty cool broseph. post the whole song online soon. i'd like to give it a listen.
i haven't posted anything i've written in a while (like anyone reads them ) so maybe i'll post some things later on.

[steveo]

i rad everything haha. here is some of my stuff from a while ago if you want to take a listen. purevolume.com/stevearuilioistheman

[intentionallyleftblank]

here's something i wrote a while back when i was bored thinking of my girlfriend. i showed this one to ms ozzy already

It's cold out but don't worry
He's right here to keep you dry
It's dark out but don't hurry
He's light and burns quite bright
On this winter day
You're white sand
And he's fire
On this winter day
You're sand, He's fire
Be calm and hug each other
Stay close, melt together
Let time simply pass
Be rare, be glass

[ɹəpɿɒ]

a crappy little comic strip i made, based on a bus trip to town today:



in real life i actually told her the right place to get off the bus.

[toast23]

rofl

[steveo]

If you could rescue, would you?
Would you're heart beat steady?
Or would you walk away
And all that day...

I can't talk
I'm out of my fucking mind
Just like you
I'm standing still this time.

Open your lips, speak with your words
Can you speak the truth?
Or talk with cheaps and spooks
And all that night...

I can't talk
I'm out of my fucking mind
Just like you
I'm standing still this time.

I cant hear you
This is deja vu
I'm through

I can't talk
I'm out of my fucking mind
Just like you
I'm standing still this time.

[chris]

This is a model thingy I made of Gerard Way for a friend for her birthday. She's a little obsessed with MCR. Not my gig, but this was fun and only took like forty-five minutes. I know it's not a totally awesome piece of art, but that's sorta the point.

[frommy tree]

inky blue (i wrote this last night when i was high)

you touched the air and plunged back into the sea, where you met my bones at the bottom.

in my purest state, i rise and drift and sway in the swirling currents; clacking, turning, dancing. there is sand in your hair, but no sky to breathe it away. there are traces of the ocean's "woosh, splosh, woosh" above our heads, but our line of vision will never reach the surface.

there is only inky blue. for miles and miles.
and it wraps us in its frosty womb and cradles us to sleep; its thousand voices piercing our shells. when we are awoken by the first light of the earth, we will celebrate with breakfast on the moon.

and my eyes open. my body is still; my mind races. it twists and screams and scatters across the floor, but i am too tired to collect it.

a siren sings.

i am stronger when i'm broken because there are more pieces.

[steveo]

Can you do me a favor tonight
Go out on the porch and look at the moon light
And envision just how small you are
Picture a billion more just like you
Now i cant tell you, its up to you

And so you walk on down
Where you see smell and you taste the sound
And the last thing you wanna do is frown
Hold my hand and wear your crown

Picture your self 20 years from now
It's not so simple to take that bow
Do you want all the pictures on the shelf
With your family, kids, history of your weatlh
Im sure you'll take that walk

And so you walk on down
Where you see smell and you taste the sound
And the last thing you wanna do is frown
Hold my hand and wear your crown

So you stop on your stroll
Wonder how your life has grown
Its the way things play out
Sucks you dont have a say
You just gotta live your day
Every seconds a mystery

So you walk on home
Close the door surely and slow
Your heart beats calm with sweat in your palms
But you smile and thats all you need for now.

[thesaradan]

I've never really written anything before and anything I've ever written, I've never shared.
ANYWHOOOOO......

"It is What It Is"

It's was a warm summer day. Those days when you can feel the sunlight warm your body the moment the rays dance on your skin. You'd go outside but you make excuses to stay in. You say you are
"too tired"
or "too busy"
or "too poor".

None are true. You've been sleeping 10 hours a night, haven't had plans for weeks, and you have 100 dollars in your wallet. You've withdrawn yourself from your friends

- you used to swear by them.

You.
Just.
Want.
To.
Give.
Up.

You never thought your life would be like this. Ever since you were young you always pictured yourself surrounded by friends and family and art and love. You never thought you'd feel so alone in a world with trillions of people. For all your life you were told someone would find you and love you and all your faults. Slowly, with every day that passes you lose faith that you'll ever find such a person. No one can every love all your flaws

- you have too many.
You.
Are.
About.
To.
Give.
Up.

For once (just...once) in your life, you'd like to live a day where you could be yourself. Never feeling like you have to impress someone. A boss. A friend. A mom. A dad. A brother. A sister. A stranger. No one knows the real you, days you forget the real you. You've become so distant you've lost yourself in the shuffle of things. The masks you've worn every day have tattooed your skin. You just want to be yourself but

- you have become engulfed in pain.

You.
Are.
Begging.
To.
Give.
Up.

It's true, you've thought about suicide. It just doesn't seem practical. There are days when you are given a glimmer of hope and that morsel of hope keeps you trekking. You'd much rather cut, burn, pull, tear pick, swallow, sting. These are the moments when you feel alive. You know you are still here. You get some unfortunate sort of gratification out of watching yourself heal. You know if your body can heal itself, with time you'll be able to heal your troubled mind. Some nights you wonder how far you can take it, you push yourself as far as possible before your end up in a hospital

- you have no fear.

And then, right at that moment, the summer heat touches your skin but, even with a brief moment of clarity

- you still give up.

[chris]

So, we had to write a first page-ish of a story in ten minutes as a kind of informal quick-write exercise for my Fiction Writing class. Hurr's mine:

Aaron Ulysses Hopewell was a simple kid from a not-so-simple town. Aaron's father was the well-to-do heir to the fortune of the guy who invented automatic sliding doors. Growing up in the Upper West Side of New York City, Aaron spent time not with people, but with the subway. The loud, low rumble of the metal tube rocketing and ricocheting through the bowels of New York gave Aaron Ulysses Hopewell a treasured distraction.

Aaron got off the train, not jostling, but seeping through the crowded car. He lightly climbed the rain-tinted stairs, each step creating a light splash. The sun was low and cloaked by that acidic New York cloudiness. The rain had stopped, but the mist still permeated from the ground. He reached a corner and approached the hot dog vendor. Not speaking, but pointing, he ordered one hot dog. No onions. No relish. No ketchup. One hot dog. Even though he hadn't eaten all day, the who-knows-what meat fell falt in Aaron's stomach, offering no nourishment, no warmth.

He finished the frank that was as empty as it was fatty and tossed its paper sleeve in a rusty trash can as he climbed the steps in front of his father's apartment building. Walking past the doorman and the mailboxes, Aaron got on the elevator. He took the elevator up more than a dozen stores and quickly, yet, indeterminately made his way down the hall to his less-than-humble home.

Closing the door and swinging his backpack into a plush armchair, Aaron immediately noticed from the briefcase near the kitchen that his father had come home from work earlier than usual. But he knew why. His father was already adorned in his black jacket, black slacks and black tie. Hanging in a long plastic bag in the kitchen doorway, waiting, was an exact replica of this arrangement, altered only to fit's Aaron Ulysses Hopewell's smaller-than-the-average-fourteen-year-old-boy stature.

[sean]

anatomical type study


mugs (slightly unfinished.. i forgot to take a picture when it was completely done before i turned it in)

[intentionallyleftblank]

imagine all the cappuccino those mugs could hold. french vanilla + hazelnut = better than your mom

[sean]

i'm in the middle of a drawing now and im kind of stuck. i need to make an important decision in it and i keep straddling the fence.. and im really tired. ugh. lets hope this goes well

[mrrrqwTE]

photoshop of my friend

[frommy tree]

tadeo,
way too much talent.

cut it out.

[frommy tree]

pond sound

waking at the bottom of the pond, we lift our chins to reveal pebble eyes in faces behind a blanket of grassy hair.
we sway back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
bark fingers unintentionally twist and tangle;
the current sways and pushes everything into one.
we are combined and content as the sun tosses its light into the hazy water;
rays scratching at our skin and embracing the shape of an inky-blue city.
there was music in the wind. it dipped down and somersaulted into the depths, shaking us by the shoulders.
it was a secret language not one of us could understand, but we all spoke.
schools of fish by the hundreds dance in union. the sunlight makes them glitter as they swirl in and out of their respective families.
the weeds vibrate and hum to the ambient melodies.
colors pulse brighter in rhythm with the baselines that dropped themselves like bombs above our heads.

i was totally high when i wrote this.

[steveo]

From green to orange
to yellow to brown
to a pile of dirt
to white on the ground
you cant hear the sound

from icicles and sleds
to bicycles to the sun beatin red
i bet you can imagine her in your bed
but you cant feel her silk touch

but when the seasons change their turn
when they go around in a florescent pattern
when the earth slows its spinnin around
ill show everyone what ive found.

is it the meaning of life or satans pocket knife
dont waste your time you'll never be right
only if the stars fall from the sky
ill whisper my tiny secret in your golden eyes

untill the seasons change their turn
when they go around in a florescent pattern
when the earth slows its spinnin around
ill show everyone what ive found.

My clothes are drenched in life
Go ahead be her wife
Soon enough you'll realize i was right

I'm high as buildings
crushing them with my finger
I'm the little boy dreamer
your the piano singer

your the end of the world
im all you have girl
ill show everyone what ive found.

[sean]

alder, i'm expecting something new from in you in this thread soon.


but for reals!