party like it's Studio 54 for 2010

My parents when they were young. Poland circa late 70's early 80's.

my dad dancing with a friend

flower children

a group of serious bad-asses. they don't make 'em like they used to.

(my dad is second from top left)

my mom is prettier than me.

my dad doing what he loved most.

Parents.

I want to talk about parents. Stop thinking of them as just that. That's so limiting to a person's potential. Do you know who they truly are? Did they share their dreams with you? The hopes that they strived to achieve? The struggles, adventures and realizations? When you take a look at their photographs from when they were your age, what did you see that was so different (asides from the youth aspect)? was there love in their eyes? did they seem happy? what were they thinking? who were their friends? Realize that the experiences they went through, shaped them into the people they are today.
I found a bunch of photos of my parents when they were young, circa late 70's early 80's in Poland. I feel a great sense of nostalgia when i look at them and i don't know why, because it's not like i was around back then. in a sense i feel like the dreams that they carried with them before they were beaten down by life's hurdles have been passed down to my sister and I.
 I wonder if they had any idea just what they were in for at all? i will have to go with no.
On a more global scale i wonder if our parents' imagination ever fathomed the drastic changes the world has gone through? genetically modified food, factory farming, the explosion of technology, climate change, pills for absolutely everything, endless advertising and even all the shitty t.v. shows. No space suits and flying cars though.
Reflect on your life, realize your dreams and take a good look at your parents because they were you a few decades ago and you might be them in a few decades from now. So stop looking at them as if all they are or ever were, are parents.

read the sign

film day.

clyde and bonnie

The Wayward Wind -Eddy Arnold

Oh a wayward wind, is a restless wind
A restless wind that yearns to wander
And I was born to the next of kin
The next of kin to the wayward wind

In a lonely shack by the railroad track
I spent my younger days
And I guess the sound of the outward bound
Made me a slave to my wandering ways


Oh I met a girl in a border town
I vowed we'd never part
Tho I tried my best to settle down

She's now alone with a broken heart

And the wayward wind, is a restless wind
A restless wind that yearns to wander
And i was born to the next of kin
The next of kin to the wayward wind

the sky is pink today

strangest movie ever.

love.

reblogged from the selvedge yard

where do the thoughts in your head come from?

learn to fly already.

continuously clarifying inconsistencies with karma

 what is it? what am i doing wrong? what the hell am i doing right? what am i doing? everything melts together and leaves me with an unsatisfying soup of uncertainty. whatever feels right now will feel wrong later and vice-versa. Things are ever-changing and inter-connected. If that is so then that means life's path is a giant circle. Then good will eventually turn into evil and back to good again. I guess that answers my questions about the future and i guess that's why it's important to live in the present. except how many times before have i done this or felt this way? is anyone else tired of living in circles? how about transforming my feet into wings so I can fly over this predictable path and explore unchartered territory.

clarify.

listen.

you can hear the trees whispering. no, im serious, you can hear them whispering if you just stop and listen and stop being so concerned with silly human trivialities. they whisper to each other about the secrets of life, to the squirrel that fell off a branch on the cedar. it'd help you out a lot if you listened, maybe you'd learn something. maybe you'd stop worrying about what to wear, what to say, what to do. maybe you'd stop running running running to your grave. maybe you'd finally start caring.

 i personally like to watch the trees dance. the branches swaying to the rhythm of the wind. sometimes they move individually yet in synch and other times they all move in circular motions and shower you with golden leaves. people would ask me where i learned to dance. i didn't learn. no one learns. learning about dance, art and music isn't art. it's a replica of something that's been done numerous times before to someone else's liking. the purest form of art is not learned, it's expressed in a language that only the individual who is creating can speak, but everyone else can understand or relate to. every single person on this earth has a personal yet universal language. just listen. listen to your self and you'll finally begin to hear what the trees have to say.

this is where i roam.

dreaming of no fixed address

why go out for hamburger when you can have steak at home?