Thursday, December 24, 2009


what do i have to do to prove that you are in fact my fucking hero? i've been golden, not just a normal golden a beautiful sunset golden, colorful, strong, distant, and as inspired as the day that sunrise ended is long. and here you come, back, for what seems like only 5th time in 4 years since you've moved on, i prepared for days, figuring out every way to impress you, and yet still i feel like my efforts aren't good enough, I'm someone now I never thought i would be, and still it isnt good enough. i'll never say these things to you, nor do i really care too actually, it would just be nice to hear something good, i made a movie so i could be like you, i laugh and make other people laugh the way i do because of you, isn't a good thing?
but never fear, i'm not sad, not anymore. as i sip at my tea that is way to sweet, ignoring my family playing a game that i am not paying attention too, i still feel golden. and feel like i could do anything, except impress you. i can live with that, but it is the respect i crave. maybe if you sit down and watch my movie one day, you'll finally see i'm not who you think i am and who i have been for 19 and a half years. i love you, your my hero and someday you'll see that and someday i will make you proud. as for now i'll glow and be exactly who and what I am...


Sunday, December 13, 2009

Thank You

Thank you to you and you and you and everyone who was there and everyone who laughed and everyone who encouraged. everyone who witnessed me change who clapped at the end and who i haven't forgotten since

thank you forever

Monday, December 7, 2009

I Need A Roof

Dear Cheryl,

That day has come, my ship has sailed, and I have sunk. I write this letter to you in my living room, I'm wrapped in 4 blankets and its 75 degrees outside. But all I feel is chills as I look around this vacant space I call home for the time being. Some days I sit on my couch smoking cigarette after cigarette waiting for a sharp kick in the balls from boredom to wake me the fuck up and to bring me back to the reality I crave so much. I came here to get control over most of my vices and for the most part I've done so, except smoking. I'm sorry sis I know you hate smoking but cigarettes are so cheap here, they're practically giving them away and no one asks for id. Every time I get a new pack an old man named Daryl smokes a cigarette with me.

Every morning I wake up and walk outside to stare into nothing, the pastures have never been greener and the sky is the bluest I've ever seen it and at night you have to be blind not the see the sky full of stars and I still feel nothing. I came out here to get away from what I was afraid of but I think I've gone so far that I don't even remember what my fears were in the first place. My list of complaints will go on forever but it is for that reason, that I love this place.

Since I've come here I haven't written a word. The stack of notebooks I brought with me lay wordless on my cracked wooden floor collecting dust instead of my thoughts and as the thoughts pile up I see my notebooks and the words I should be writing, fading more and more into wasted opportunity a and bleak future as each day passes. I seek reason and meaning but all I'm finding is green grass and blue thoughts.

My physical ailments have gotten worse these days as well; my headaches have come hard and come often. Some nights I can’t even open my eyes. I have one as I write this but I’m starting to feel like it’s just the city streets scratching at my brain. I ran away from my problems on a bus out of the city and my problems took the next bus and somehow beat me to my final destination and had already made friends with death, guilt, and depression.

People will tell you when you get to be older and have to start dealing with real life issues that “everyone goes through them, you’ll get through it, everyone else does!” Well let me be the first to tell you, that they are full of shit. Everyone is different, some people deal with life changes by playing scrabble or doing Sudoku and some run away to a farm to sulk for awhile. Life can get really complicated, wait, scratch that life is always complicated. Whether it’s when your 5 and can’t figure which bathroom is the boys and which one is the girls or it’s when your 19, laying on a couch that feels like plywood with a ratty cloth cover over it, trying to give yourself 5 reasons why you shouldn’t go up to the roof and just happen, to you know, fall off.

The other night, as a matter a fact, I made my way onto that very roof in the middle of the night as I continue to battle insomnia as well. Sometimes I just feel like it is due to sleeping on plywood. As I sat on the roof smoking my last cigarette, I looked over the edge and what did I honestly feel at that moment? Thirst, my mouth went completely dry and I spit off the roof, wondering where my next drink would come from and that was when the rain came. It started pouring and hasn’t stopped since. Now, granted I didn’t drink any of the rain water, it made me realize that opportunities are everywhere Cheryl, it’s just a matter of finding them. It was those opportunities that made me get off that roof the other night and it’s those opportunities that give me hope. I don’t want you to think that what I just said is the answer to everything because it isn’t for you and probably isn’t for me either but in times like this, you’ll take anything as hope,

If there is one thing I could tell you, it is don’t be afraid to try anything. Dylan famously said “Don’t think Twice, It’s Alright.” Despite the fact that I take this quote completely out of context, I mean it, don’t think twice, it will always be alright.

It is true that I have left all friends and family behind, but honestly I left them behind months before I actually left. Mom and dad were getting sick of it all and I was getting sick of hearing it all the time. I’ll always love them but sometimes you run out of love to give, because you run out of love for yourself.

I unfortunately will end this with another quote. In Saving Private Ryan they constantly use the term FUBAR which stands for “Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition” and right now Cheryl, my life may be fucked up beyond recognition but not beyond repair.



I begged you to stab me, you tore my shirt open

what is the proudest moment of our lives? is it getting drunk for the first time or is sitting in your room at 3 am listening to the gravel ridden voice of Tom Waits, hiding behind his sunken metaphors from all sorts of problems my mind can not even begin to handle right now. seconds pass and I'm still confused about everything I'm even attempting artistically, but the word quit refuses to even seep from my cracked lips. mean while i sit and wait, constantly jumpy never really sleeping because who the fuck knows how to manage their time and how the fuck would I know to go about that in the first place. We are born to wait, born to be delayed, born to fall in line because we would rather fuck our brains out then create, were born to fly but cement has sunken our wings and born creatures of habit and it is that characteristic, that makes us sigh, long and loud and made me almost punch a hole in whole foods tonight.
however we do create, and we do conquer and we do the jitterbug but can we depend on our minds? depend on them enough to bring ourselves to give away that teddy bear, to throw out that wrist band from the first show you went too? better yet, do we have rights to the bravery that takes? Yes, someday ill drive a motor vehicle and maybe some day ill learn the piano and be able to play Tom Traubert's blues to whatever person has 7 minutes to listen to me do my best Waits.
but sooner or later we all get older and we realize that no matter how much we've accomplished it is not enough. I feel like laughing sometimes when i talk to older people who say those things to me because i know they've accomplished things and my mind is ready to run full speed ahead to that time and not worry about the completion of anything that has to do with film and just talk about all my accomplishments instead, but until that day comes i will silent the doubters and keep marching on to that sunset at the bottom of the hill.

you can't not love that.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The Brutalist Bricks

Today felt like a blurr. all these days feel like blurs, but not bad ones, substantial ones. i spent all night watching three dogs and flipping through channels a television for the first time, alone, since i was 14. but today has become a good day because Ted Leo’s new album is coming out in march. its nice to know that things like that, things that have no personal effect on tomorrow will still make me smile forever. i have already decided i need to redo the trailer I made. but that is a fight for another day and speaking of fights, this is where i came from.

Sunday, November 29, 2009



Saturday, November 28, 2009

Citizen Bear

Gyros Girate,
Creatures create,
Artists artfully avoid the truth,
I write in iambic Pentameter,
Pacifists pass out,
Ronald Reagan is Reganomics

Bears are overbearing
Koalas be Cookin'
Corporations lack cooperation
Orson Welles did Well
Muppets Mortify children
We were the future

But here we are...
Digital...its over

Friday, November 27, 2009

Robbie In The flesh

Real. Talk.

fuck all this bullshit about being cool and pretending to listen to music you dont really like that much. ive noticed this has happened alot and maybe ive done it often but just for the record these are the 5 albums that have the most impact on me ever.

1. Rockin’ the Suburbs -Ben Folds

2. Tyranny of Distance- Ted Leo & The Pharmacists

3. Either/Or- Elliott Smith

4. A Love Supreme- John Coltrane

5. Lifetime- Lifetime

Sorry its the truth

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

I’m in search of….what?

Probably nothing, after all what are we all searching for? searching for meaning? searching for accomplishment? searching for philly style macaroni and cheese? searching for the perfect beard? or maybe were all just searching for the unobtainable? like a pocket sized notebook with floral designs all over it, but that notebook could mean so much more to anyone and everyone involved, that notebook could hold thoughts forbidden by most, and completely inhumane. but yes, it is these thoughts that in fact keep us humane. i’ve grown tired of listening to most people, however i have met people this year unlike anyone i have ever met before and would trade it all in a second to wake up stress free for one day. i put myself through hell every day just to work toward that one sentence i have been craving my whole life, I’m proud of you, 4 fucking words that I would watch, incest driven cunnilingus amongst the Rego clan for. we work all day to sleep all night and then we work all day to drink all night on the weekends, such is life but maybe it is time for such change. sipping tea at 3am isn’t done enough and listening to Rives hasn’t punctured enough ear drums yet and looking at photos and paintings with your own 2 eyes, without anyone else’s eyes in your brain sure isn’t done enough.

All i’ve been asking for the last two weeks is how do you define art? how do you express yourself? what do you want people to feel when they see your art? well all i have learned is that i feel like the biggest hypocrite of them all because I have never completed art that anyone will ever feel, and i make this film to chase out bad memories and a longing for the old days and missing something or maybe someone i never even had. But to me i can only express myself artistically, because it is the only place in my life where i can never be judged because who is anyone to ever judge art? because art is not us, art is this, and this is why we all breathe. art is not a painting art is breathing and breathing puts oxygen in our brain and our brain is what helps us think, so in the end of it all, what is art? art is just a man making coffee and doing “The Jerk”, while his family eats raspberry pie.

now that im almost half way to 20, what do i want to be when i get older?

the person in that picture.