Friday, December 18, 2009

map of the falling sky

she let her hair grow long this year. she wrote poetry without mention of birds or stars.
without using the words: trembling, breaking, fall, or multiply.

we grow up. we grow apart. in winter, in long years we grow out our hair.
we try writing without lies. it's harder. stark. brutal. numbing.
i want to go back. i want another chance to watch you shake
the stars from your hair.

photo 1: cari ann wayman photo 2: scarabuss

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

they might not know, i know

colored bulbs, the fat retro kind. the kind we had on our house when i was a kid. I'm standing on top of a ladder putting up christmas lights. It's south florida, the sun beats down on the side of my face. my eyes adjust to the glare. an ice cream truck turns the corner. It's the holidays.
lights thrown randomly across the bushes. I should have done this later in the day. they are plugged in but you'd never be able to tell. on or off. everything seems out of place.

at night things change. in the dark it almost seems like december. lights twinkle, stars flutter. something akin to joy rises briefly in my heart. tinsel in clumps. a homemade decoration hangs from the tree. grandmas ghost is a sparkly beaded ornament. she made one for each of us. it hangs like a mystery, a gift after so many years she's been gone.
it doesn't fit in with the others. its better because it hurts a little. everything good has to hurt a little.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

I took her to dinner but all she ever ate were the mints

this slow
burden loving you

just anything
just words
just presence

rust and

peppermint tooth paste
and bad dreams

snow falling
a perfect silence

but i have yet to really feel it.
this slow burden
having loved you

and i have never
seen snow
so there
no silence

Tuesday, December 1, 2009


its a night of small revelations, night of odd comfort
im starting to love this distance
starting to feel how present you are in

Thursday, November 26, 2009

longest kiss of the year

there were storms today.
after the storms,
a slight change in temperature.
tingly skin.
the longest kiss of the year.

the devils hand reaches-
to remind me of you.
please, i said.
"whisper me
the words of your god."

Sunday, November 22, 2009

dangerous with a pen

this is what i used to do while at work when things were slow. i gave myself 15 minutes to come up with and draw something or else id go back to working. It was to replace what i'd normally do when it was slow, which was to go online and read her journal, look for porn or other eye candy, download music, or write something stupid on one of my own journal things. Hey, It was more productive than jerking off in the corporate bathroom stall. (although that would have been quicker and felt better)

silly drawings are another form of getting the extra noise out of my head. like everything else that would flow from a pen or in this case a sharpie it ends up just another way for me to bleed.

I had this idea that anyone could come up with a little saying and draw a picture to go along with it. it's easy right? when i see it, it looks easy enough and except for the drawing part and coming up with cute lines. I did okay. I guess. nothing that's going to end up on a t-shirt stretched out across some girls tattooed chest or put up on someones kitchen wall, but that wasn't really my goal. It was 15 minutes of distraction. I moved on to something else before i had the chance to learn how to draw a decent robot. I'm not sure what it was, i haven't drawn anything for a long time. there is a good chance that's it for the year so i wanted to see them all in one place. now that i have, I'll move on to something else.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Be good or be Gone

the other tragedy- I'm yours but hopelessly romanticize every situation.
at the grocery store i look into other peoples baskets and when i catch someone looking into mine i wonder if we all don't fall in love a little.
just between produce and dairy. the smell of candy, of fresh baked bread.
At check-out our carts lightly touch. her bug bitten legs. my chipped finger nail polish left on since Halloween. its my job to notice. its my story to tell. we browse the magazines while waiting our turn: new chewing gum, new fade diets, flu-scares, celebrity faces, horoscopes.
she pays. i pay. we go about our separate ways. our separate lives.
a quick glance, a slight smile enough to know it isn't just me.

it was who she was in the dark, cigarettes and mumbled sleep and a hundred other things nameable and not.

the devils in me. sadness. no reason- maybe the radio.
cellos. calamity.
maybe I'm not sad.
this could be calm.
this could be what soothing feels like.
this could be me without noise. i listen to my inside voice. no echo.
the vibrations are a hum.

the trouble with everything is how suddenly it could turn to nothing. every candy a toothache in a fancy wrapper.

a book filled with poetry and fuck stories. my lies. our lies. our nothing.
the devil is loose in my heart and she likes it rough. like it was in your room the night you let me stay. A sunny skied morning turned a starry night.
whatever she says. whatever god says.
whatever the darkness tells me to do.
after dreaming i write to her. i want to click send and open old wounds.
she fucked the words out of me.
I'm sorry.
the vibrations are a hum. good bye again.
This is us. this is how we follow through.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

baby, Im a vampire- Interview:JULIA TROTTI (photography)

I've been itching to feature work from this young and talented photographer for quite some time. I have been consistently blown away by her use of light and the touching way she displays softness in her art. like shattered poetry- like haunted photographs. The fact she's just 18 years old with so much yet to come.

I'm pleased to introduce: Julia Trotti. She is 18 and hails from the land down under. Sydney, Australia.

Good Winter: what do you love about photography
julia trotti: I love how I can create my own little colourful world, and show people a piece of my crazy mind.GW: do you remember when you took your first photograph?
jt: I don't remember the first time I pressed a shutter release, but I do remember the first time I fell in love with photography. I went on a walk with this point and shoot camera that was lying around the house, and just starting taking pictures of everything and anything that I saw that I thought was interesting. They were terrible photos, but I just had so much fun doing it, that I knew I didn't want to stop after that.

GW: what are some things that inspire you in and around your town?
jt: I live in a place called Cecil Hills and there are all these lakes and fields and well, hills, around everywhere. I'm very fortunate to live in such a beautiful place, it makes taking the sorts of photos that I do so much easier.

GW: what movie haven't you seen that almost everyone else has?
jt:Probably a lot actually, I don't watch that many movies. Every time someone mentions, "oh, have you seen that movie where.." I hardly ever know what they are talking about! Haha.

GW: what makes you crazy?
jt: To me, being crazy is a good thing, being crazy is what inspires me. And the things that make me crazy are the things that I can't put into words and that are really hard to express in a way that people can understand.

GW: what or who inspires you ?
jt: This is always such a hard question to answer, because everything inspires me. I can be inspired by the smallest thing like a street sign or an empty jar. Really, just everything and everyone that I see inspires me. I don't even think about it anymore, everywhere I look, I see a photo.
GW: favorite books?
jt: I don't really read much, but I loved Alice in Wonderland and can read it over and over.

GW: 4 favorite places?
jt: My favourite place is mostly lost; lost in my head, in fields, in the ocean and in the stars.

GW: What is currently on your music playlist?
jt: Amanda Palmer! and the Dresden Dolls. I'm obsessing over them lately.

GW: describe what a good winter is for you?
jt: For me, that would be a Sunday morning, where its cold and raining outside, but I'm in my warm bed, sleeping in!

GW: most prized possession?
jt: I suppose that would be my camera. I don't think I could go without taking any photos at all.

GW: what are some of your past Halloween costumes?
jt: I haven't really dressed up as anything for Halloween, but if I did, I would dress up as a different Alice in Wonderland character every year. They're all so peculiar and look like so much fun to act as.

GW: 4 things that you collect?
jt: Sugar packets, photos of sunrises from my bedroom window, empty jars and the number 52.

GW: whats your secret?
jt: To be able to make something from nothing.

Please check out Julia's other sites:

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Where to begin

i ran something over the other day and i don't know what. she calls me out of the blue and i wasn't paying close attention to the road. I don't think anyone does anymore.
im doing things and nothing gets done. does this happen to you too?

I said hello.
i wonder how she got my number. but, I'm easy to find she says and knows it's probably on purpose. i was probably waiting for this. it's what i wait for. Okay. fill me in.

I say, listen, here is what's new:
she's off the pill.
I make an awesome black bean taco.
after the best night of sex Ive ever had i was offered a frozen waffle for breakfast.
I don't just love the ones i cant have anymore.
I love the ones that love me.
dust and pornography have collected on my laptop.
I don't let the stories write me.
There has been to much coffee. not enough sleep.
Ive been hearing my inside voice more and more.
i like pumpkin anything and peanut butter anything.
you anything.
I don't lie unless you ask me too. I like when you ask me to.
Ive been bored with music lately.
I play piano. I drink beer and wine.
I'm going to Mickey's not so scary Halloween party at Disney World 10-31
I no longer eat meat (only fish) .
she likes when i tell her stories.
she believes she still loves me.
I believe in ghosts.
I can no longer find comfort in words.
I don't read what you write.
this is distance.
this is as close to silence that i know.
i think about you almost every single day.
this doesn't belong in the category of secrets.
i like keeping your secrets.
this isn't everything.
it's not far from the truth.

Monday, October 12, 2009

just one wish

What is waiting for worth?
What is worth waiting for?
How many miles are we apart tonight? the few are to many and covered with rocks and snow.
we rise to the same sun and fall to the same moon.
I probably remember it nothing like you. I write my story, you write yours.
I love it that way. dirty and repetitive so we never forget.

Birthdays come and go. there is always a build up that lasts until just about the time I wake up and nothing feels any different. I'd expect a quarter under my pillow if i had lost a tooth but another year comes and goes and I'm better off not to look in the mirror and compare last from this and the one before that. another scar and few more lines. if not desired, deserved.
I wish that If I still don't know any better about keeping you in my heart, at least make me experienced.

I'm just trying to tell you I'll be 40 in a few days and i can't fucking believe it. I'll say the same thing next year, hopefully in some better way. I'll make some kind of mid life crisis wish like I hope for any young girl to still find me a little awesome. but then, those are just words.

I bought a Halloween coloring book yesterday and found i could still color between the lines. She once asked me " Is that where you write too?"
What i colored was a haunted house. It was beautiful and gloomy and I wish I could live there. Dusty books and creaky beds. It reminded me of your room. The bed squeaked every time we moved our hips. every time I put it deeper into you.
you were my favorite scary movie.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

sleeping lessons

steady sun and steady rain and steady unevenness. thoughts and addictions.
something new not so new.
maybe the pumpkins will make me happy or the vampire girls
or vampire rings or candy rings.

rings of gold, rings of fire,
wear my ring?
wear me like a noose
rope burns
and the everlasting

photo: kristamas klousch
art: Miss Van

Monday, September 21, 2009

When it flows

My own words on break or on loan until winter or until I feel like it or until she shakes me again. Until something does. I'm fine if nothing does though, more fine than ever.

But, i say it knowing you're probably reading this and then thinking just how fucking fine id be if you asked me to come over. how fine I'd be even if we never really do meet. anyway, when have words really said anything about us? when are they better than staring or better than dreaming, better than waiting.

I like these conversations we have in between the lines and i guess you do too. maybe your bored. maybe you really like me. maybe you'll hear cello's or fireworks or ice cream truck chimes. maybe someday I'll shake you.

Monday, August 24, 2009

a failure at being friends not lovers

the kiss was my victory party. a ring and a cake. a birthday and a wish.
i sent the letter with a bolt of lightning - with thunder, with a hurricane.
puddles left in my driveway remind me of the day i spent over your house. the day the power went out and everything got quiet. we laid on your bed staring at the ceiling holding each others hand. we had just fucked. we had just lied. we had said we wouldn't but we would do it all over again.
then, there was just breathing. and instead of being still I
told you secrets.

little things - said.
left unsaid.
the months and years of words piling up and
left unread.

maybe this once had a heart beat? and
maybe it's not worth thinking about.
the summer swallows us up.
the goodbyes hurt like hell.

photo:Hakumansfriend -flickr

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Words fucked art and the baby they made was ugly

a pretty flower. a pretty face. pretty trash and drawings on walls. pretty words. pretty lies.
and nothing. just staring. just sunshine. just rain. just fangs. just blood.
just everything.
just nothing.

there is something about the redundancy in this art.
in our words. in the photographs.
all the moons
and stars and stuttered sighs.
in that kiss that left you breathless.
our familiar tastes.

all of us- the same.
all us...... seeking
all us strangers
and lovers and fighters and mother fuckers.

all of us caught up in the illusion of thought.

that voice inside my head. asking. wondering.

is this beautiful?

Monday, July 20, 2009

loud as hope

the sun looms like a threat. the pavement hums. A boy and girl riding bicycles. the boy is me, peddling toward an ice-cream truck with a pocket full of change. silver half dollars - birthday money. the girl pumps her skinny legs. bright pink streamers fall like a horses mane from her handlebar grips. She smiles her shiny teeth at me and i already imagine her unwrapping a red white and blue rocket pop. i can taste it. i can feel it melting sticky down our fingers. we will compare red tongues and blue lips.

her hair sticks to her face like little black snakes. sweat on the back of my neck makes my skin prickly. there is a dull moan of ice cream truck motor. a slightly perverted and out of tune Pop Goes the Weasel fights it's way to play through the thick hot air.

I don't remember the car or her yelling for me to watch out or stop or why aren't you stopping?. they warn you, there are warning signs. but, i never stop. I won't stop. I can't stop. little cartoon hearts flutter out of my chest when i wasn't looking. I never saw the car.

the head over heel feeling and the glimpse of sunlight and braids. sunshine and braids. i tumble for what seems like a life time. everything is slow motion. the change falling from my pocket hitting the asphalt and rolling with the grace only money can find. my bike over there, me over here. lying on my back more serene than Buddha on xanax.

people come from out of their houses i think. the girl runs over to me. she is smiles and sunshine. she is braids and glasses. are you dead? she asks. are you over the rainbow? she asks. say hi to the tin man, say hi to the scarecrow. she leans into my face and kisses me. i guess maybe i had died. but i remember getting up and shaking myself off. someone telling me i should look where im going next time, to be more careful then handing me change and dollar bills. "for your bike"

maybe, i thought. maybe i did die. maybe everything after that and since and now - is a dream.
the girl, she was glad i was okay. that i wasn't dead. she stuck out a bright red tongue and declared herself the winner.

It's resistance failing and the words feel nice inside my head. your name feels nice inside my head. I have yet to kick the habit of you. So, could you ever come slip back under me? If you ever made it easy. I would. I know you're there. I haven't killed the habit and this has become my only fix. my love is a ghost that fits my skin. there are remnants still in my bloodstream. it's enough and never enough.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

and everyone came over to watch me light the fuse

sit around a lot of the time. wait for summer. it comes and then it's the same. it goes and then its the same. probably thinking whats next- whats next?. waste my time.

come waste my time and let's fuck like we used to and if we can't like we used to then how about we like now.

now is all we have and if its with me or him or her the difference is slightly to the left of the moon. where you are. where i am.

we just happen to be stuck in the place between. the silence.

i don't know why it ends up like this. short choppy sentences. no structure. kind of like us. kind of like me. or the story of us or of me. the one i wrote with you in it. the one I'm writing now. and you are gone.
here. gone. here.

it wouldn't be much different but lets pretend it would. lets pretend we wouldnt get along. that we are strangers. you don't tend to make me angry. Ive learned something. I've changed and things are just splendid.

i don't even eat the same foods. i don't even have the same job or the same hair cut. things change. when they do - it' s now. no use thinking about tomorrow. when tomorrow comes it will be now.

love me like now. at least say you do. at least say you'd meet me somewhere. I want to get in my car and turn toward your direction. I want to light up the tires and light up the night. fireworks.

it's because of the fireworks. it's because of you.

July. we waited so long for summer. it comes and it's the same, it goes. what's next? who cares.

it's now.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

just things that happened

unsafe love,
easier to call it - bad timing.
but my arms really
were around you and i really
shove you up
against a wall
and kiss you
hard on the mouth.

rapid beats of my heart
boom- boom

what lies !
what hips!
whatever it was
you wanted.

a broken promise.
a rusted ring.
a fucking
this house was
never to be your home.

misplaced my number
then my heart

i meant all of

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Visions from the Heart: KERRY BALL photographer\artist interview

Summer. Sun. Art.
I'm excited to share with you the talents of a local South Florida photographer\artist. Kerry Ball. Skylines and beaches inspire her work. graffiti and warm Miami nights. Visions from the heart.

Good Winter: what do you love about photography and collage?
kerry ball: i love being able to express myself in so many different and creative ways. i like using my photography to show people the way that i view the world. i like to show people a different way of seeing things, seeing every day objects, buildings, graffiti, and landscapes. what i love about making collages is being able to express my feelings and emotions. using a few bits of scrap paper, photographs and quotes, i am able to express my deepest feelings in a way that i feel people can relate to and understand.

GW: How did you get into making collages?

kb: i used to make digital collages in photoshop and one day i decided to try and recreate what i was doing digitally with actual paper and found objects, etc. and i really enjoyed it. i was instantly hooked and the rest is history.

GW: Tell us where you grew up and what you like about living in Miami?
kb: i grew up in south miami right in between the gables and kendall. i love the culture and diversity of miami. i also love the beach/ocean- the fact that i am no more than 20 minutes away from being able to watch a beautiful sunrise over the ocean any time i want is wonderful.

GW: What are some things that inspire you in and around South Florida?
kb: the city itself. the colors, sights, sounds. i love to get in my car and drive and get lost in the city. i love finding new things to photograph- graffiti, buildings, landscapes, people.

GW: what movie haven't you seen that almost everyone else has?
kb: casablanca! i have a hard time sitting through black and white movies!

GW: What makes you crazy?
kb: the price of polaroid film!

GW: what do you day dream about?
kb: living a relaxing life on a beach in hawaii.

GW: favorite photographers? painters?
kb: cindy sherman has always been a long time favorite photographer. her amazing variety of self portraits is very inspiring. i am also constantly inspired by fellow polaroid photographers (and flickr friends) like whitney johnson, lou o'bedlam, elizabeth soule robert reader, grant hamilton and sean tubridy. as for painters, i love stella im hultberg and audrey kawasaki. i also love the illustrations of danny brito, kris atomic and cassandra warren. i also have a huge appreciation for the work banksy does. i love the way he pushes the envelope.

GW: favorite books?
kb: aside from art & photography books, i love reading travel books. reading about different countries and the things other people have experienced inspires me to travel more.

GW: 4 favorite places in Miami?
kb: 22nd street beach on south beach- my favorite place to watch the sunrise; madroƱo restaurant- for when i need to satisfy my craving for nicaraguan food; walmart in kendall on 157th avenue- because it's always open and going there is always an adventure; wynwood- because it's the best place to find new, creative and amazing graffiti.

GW: tell us about the first tattoo you ever recieved and the last one up to now?
kb: my first one was a piece of flash that i hastily picked off the wall in the tattoo studio- a crappy cartoon looking sun. i got it the day i turned 18. it has since been covered up (along with my first 3 tattoos) for something bigger and better! the last tattoo i got was a replica of these graffiti hearts that have been popping up all over miami for the past two years. it's become an obsession of mine to find and photograph as many of the hearts as i can and in homage to both my love of graffiti and love of hearts, i got one of them tattooed on me about 2 months ago.

GW: What is currently on your music playlist?
kb: these days i've been listening to kanye west's 808 and heartbreaks almost non stop.

GW: describe winter in florida?
kb: winter in florida is perfect! breezy and in the low 70s or high 60s- you can't ask for better!

GW: most prized possession?
kb: my polaroid SLR 680 camera which sadly i dropped last month and broke. i have a backup but it's not as nice and in good condition as the one i broke. coming in second place would be ALL of my other cameras!

GW: what are some of your past halloween costumes?
kb: one year i was the clyde half of a bonnie & clyde duo costume. my sister was bonnie. i've also been a fairy, a ghost, a witch and smurfette!

GW: 4 things that you collect?
kb: antique/vintage skeleton keys; sea shells; vintage cameras; 5s (5 is my favorite number)

GW: whats your secret?
kb: always listen to your heart!

find links to Kerry's photos, art, and etsy shop at:

Saturday, June 13, 2009

when we decided not to tell

we write our own stories of who we are. I fill in the blanks with i love you's and goodbyes. with road trips and snow globes bought while on holiday. A motel room where we decided to fuck but not stay the night. pen and paper, mangoes and lime. wedding cake, a mariachi band. summer days, silently watching the rain. I wait for the horn section to kick in- my favorite part. I listen for heartbeats. I watch your lips for endings. I imagine the taste of sunshine. the sound of a cello surely means an end.

Ive built on this story. the story of me. swollen with pretty girls and lies, collectible toys, art, words, photographs, tattoos. more words and then- you. a moon, the sun and stars and then- her. .
this is something like me and nothing like me. It's created. It's fiction and i live it.

a death, a birth. a death, a re-birth. a song. that fucking song. my drug, my ghost. my gift.

more words.