thought bubble

 

blood vessel veins spanning the climb. i scratched my notebook with illegible facts about the insides of our bodies. how my lungs sigh with the terrain. how they sigh heavy with unreturned feelings. my right hand sharpied  with the statement, “you choose the version of life without me.” actively. present tense. the sun is blazing the fundamental truth. grasping. that your heart. beat. beat. beat. beat. is temporary. and so is mine.

now available on my Depop Shop

**free us shipping**

https://www.depop.com/the_muted_owl

stay free, mute style

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Shop Girl

There is a slight edge to my smile when someone compliments me on an outfit, especially because over the past two years I’ve developed an entirely thrifted wardrobe.

My roommate and I are cleansing our closets in hopes of sharing the love of unique and vintage finds with you! As well as compressing our wardrobes to fit into suitcases.

Our lives are in these clothes. From hiking and writing poems. From performing and appearing in BuzzFeed videos . . . That’s the cool thing about buying second-hand. The stories. And now you get the opportunity to write the next chapter.

Which is why, with each purchase, we plan to include a handwritten note about some of the fun experiences and places we wore these clothes.

The Depop Shop is heating up! So be such to check it out and snag the items you love.

——————————– https://www.depop.com/the_muted_owl ———————————-

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*All funding is going towards the upcoming summer 2017, “The Naked Heart Tour.” I have been away from blogging for a minute. The past two weeks have been fully devoted to contacting venues, researching fees, and creating promotional materials to make this project a reality! As lead cinematographer, I will not only be supporting two of my college friends, but have the opportunity to film the entire journey which will later be submitted to film festivals. Be sure to check back on the blog for more insight into this tour and the behind the scenes prep.

xoxo,

Mute Style

24. hush hide

DSC_0058DSC_0093.jpgDSC_0077.jpghush hide. kiss the tide of cadmium. mustard doors. leaning on spokes. trespassing the tender circulation of inner organs. pushing blue blood and blah blah words. “love.” the delicate petaled touch in our mouths. polka-dotted minds with many-hued days. the breathless wind wound on the tip of our tongues. pallid eyelids surviving the placement of warning signs. pretending they aren’t there. overwhelming. landscapes whispering tender bewilderment. “love,” i remember when you almost said it.

xoxo,

mute style

19. summersaulting

*as you crunch down the last cinnamon apple chip you realized you love him. the sun on the floorboards warms the thought. your toes curl the wood as you rise on relave. the numb dust on the window pane sweeps the idea of a boy with a bear hug of hair at the end of these words. feelings are all hot air anyway. breathes better (released).

the last person to hold scissors to my hair was my south korean friend on my dining room floor. newspapered ink on my knees informed me of the politics of homecoming royalty. i rubbed the mistaken popularity from the ridges of my skin. and then i trimmed my hair in the fourth floor sink darkness with art scissors. rubbed my eyes raw and bloodshot in the mirror. a man died on the train less than twelve hours ago.

so i wound up amongst sleeping commuters and reconsidered thoughts. the fondness whittled at daybreak. a finalized disappearing act. lungs of lies. breathing breath. the perfect combination of solar and sea. struggling against an intimate stranger. desist debauchery. a whirlwind now within me. summersaulting rocks and other dangers of youthful heartbeats.

maybe it is because i didn’t cut the shoulder pads from this button down; with the pinstripes arranged as the memory of my family in our dining room with stenciled menus slurping  ice cream. maybe it is because the lighting is vampire dim in this restaurant; the fixtures swirled like a tim burton illustration. maybe it is becuase i am having trouble spelling because. the reason. the one that has a name. needs to be effaced.

xoxo,

mute style

Yellow Goodbye

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learning the mid-tones: the high-spirit, low-spirit spectrum. swept in the whoosh of color and painting myself to match. creating a language for expressing feelings. over the years i developed this distrust for the color yellow, because of the false promise of feeling momentarily better and bright. i would always find depression grinning again. Continue reading