I've seen myself in the same motions, for repeated moments in minutes on end.  I cannot fight the will, what will be; but I also can't hide the what in the "why be?"
. . .

for what and WiLL

All of this likeness to appear in one mess;
in such a convoluted mess that the undress became a dressing to the wound.

I cannot or will not, can't see or be that hard, geometric wall,
giant;
TALL.
 that with such mess and such is this,
to find close in such and further to that which, thus……
and this
just
IS
then.

I was what I would will then --
and when I'd will, I'd forget that remember-
IN'.

Couldn't sleep without a twitch;
Couldn't control that weep,
and
what and oh
which….
will  C R E E P
(the kind of two they never expected you to)
….and be
for me and you
…(that which/what will "be")….
and forever
for that which wills what we cannot
S E E , (.)

sleepwriting from recollections unrememberd

the undoing of the doing in the face of a brain so intoxicated by the infection of reality eating the earthy sentiments that may have made love "love."  ======== nothing moves organically in the direction of "rational."  murder sighs, murder signs; in only a way that the murder not be a tangible manifestation of the physical act;  murder in a soul-sense.  you will not be a highway-island, only an isolated planar reflection of intersections of dead and dying.  dying, much slower, moving subtly in these strange, haunting, half-remembered dreams of recurring places in the time of (un)realtime.

the brainpain

i woke,
intact.
in the insane brain a pact
to keep the secret insane
a secret in the
PAINBRAIN
to breath and pulse
the feelings spreading in
a
frantic
CONVULS(E)
/(ion)

 

photos copyright Katelyn Roof 2012

OH...be patient (with me)

I'm waiting for me --
to tell me everything ...
about me.
Oh wait…is that right?  Is that polite?

For me to tell me  /
about the fleeting flee?



...I don't think i know me;
my brain,
the brain pain i feel in my brain --
so insane.
i don't think the "me"
knows the "we"
that the "me" claims to be.


i think that "me" knows
U N C O M F O R T A B L (Y).
the awkward space in between pauses,
the claws
in  -   between
shaky    
c l a u s e s  …
if you could know
(t) H // i \\ (s)
 

Then,
you would know that.
(without a "what is.")
If you could have known that;
when "that" was "this,"
and this 'n' that had a spat

-- a fight to see who won --

to become the
BE

or the

COME

for the forever that you never

L   E   F   T

UN-
done.

somnambulant composition #1

i try to find the pretty in the ugly.  but all of the pretty is really pretty ugly.  it's all ugly.  there can be hope in all of the dark, and the one bit of light is enough to grab onto for the moment, but the moment is a fleeting breath, a once and done….a nice memory for maybe a week and some.  and then…done.  just done.  spend a night wrapped up in arms, spend months searching for the same, searching and never finding.  you can subsist on the lack of substance, but somehow something becomes way better than just nothing. 

this that and that this

do I
MISS
close(NESS)
or
do
I
miss
THIS?

 

copyright Katelyn Roof 2011

sleepscreen

so, apparently, i have taken some subconscious screencaps from wonderful conversations on facebook chat, too.  here is a small collage.  enjoy.

agree to disagree

"You spend half of the morning just trying to wake up, half the evening just trying to calm down."

- (SMOG)

my body says life, my mind says death.  my body says REST, my mind says WAKE.  my body says DREAM, my mind says insane. 
i DREAM an insaneDREAM.
...and....broken glass?

Some Semblance of Happiness: the Theory

I'm now finding a strange cache of writings and prose I did in what I'm assuming was a somewhat unconscious state.  Sleepwriting?  A somnambulant rambler with a flair for the poetic and obtusely rhythmic phrasing?  This must be the best kind of somnambulation.  I've come to the conclusion that it's my soul, escaping my body, devoid of judgment and imposition from outside forces and just....walking around a little.  Telling me a little bit about me that I'm just too human to see. 

I'm actually really glad I feel like no one reads this blog.  This is the kind of slightly public diary any chronically introverted individual could dream of, ever.  It's the idea that I can be honest to an invisible listener, and that listener may or may not even exist.  After all, it is a fear of the concrete that the introvert has.  This is the best because I'm talking to a wall...a person without eyes.  Eyes can judge.  Within this sentiment lies the truth that the internet and my sketchpad, they are my best friends.  In fact, all of these admittances rest as proof to my theory of art, the internet and the introvert.  Our internet-based culture is, in ways, birthing this strange breed of introverts parading as extroverts.  An artist is (mostly) walled within his or her own mind.  Confined in the mind is the root of extreme introversion.  A level of brain functioning that differs from what is termed "the norm" is embarrassed and confined within itself. 

In this way, this walling-in of an extremely active mind, is born the need for alternate forms of expression, that differ from conventional interaction and exchanges of speech among fellow human beings.  Enter art.  Enter the internet.  Enter this alter-ego, that exists within these alternate forms of expression, that is not, in fact, a lie; it is just a facet of an extremely complex being.  This is why an artist is an artist; there is something inside, that cannot be expressed with speech.  Words fail...they fail miserably.  Words can describe, but a feeling is comprised of multiple entities.  One form of expression is never enough to suffice.

Sleep-writing, sleepwalking, daydreaming, drawing, pretty sounds, ugly sounds, delusions, illusions, reality vs. the imagined, microcosms and macrocosms, dying, living, peace in death, peace in living, extremism, idealism, cynicism, (all the isms), past pain, future gain, mega-sad, super-happy, beautiful brain, ugly thoughts, fiction as fact, dreams vs. alternate existence, love the myth, hate the myth, existence the reality.

You
Me
We
just
EXIST


- Katelyn

w/e

i will forever be far from me and that's all i can ask










(for).

 

 all photos by Katelyn Roof

(re)edit

I have a new Wacom Tablet, and I have been going to town re-editing old work.  I just recently re-edited these photos i took in....2008, I believe.  The whole project at the time was doing portraits based on fairy tale imagery with a creepy twist.  I miss having access to a lighting studio.....anyway, NERD STORIES.  I'm gonna stop telling these nerd stories, and move on to the photos, here they are:

 

all pictures Copyright Katelyn Roof.

the back(track)

Wander-round, wander around; wandering, wandering around and round.
This now and that then,
the separation between two is no more a passage of time
than an evolution of to be into what has always just BEEN.

All the "some"things sure added up to nothing....or ---
some....
thing.....

All the missed time between the last mistake and the next, or maybe a next is never -- or maybe it ... is now.  All is now, and now is all that is to be had, so just have and then had and then have again.  Forever and ever,
until then. 

i have a good amount of old photos on my hard drive to (re)share.  check back.
-kc