I just keep seeing all these people w/ these sad excuse of things they call tattoos. But the worst part is that they’re all making me want one of my own again. I completely dropped the idea a while ago because I couldn’t think of anything worth putting on my body.  My friend Mikeira is always saying,” the body is a blank canvas,”. Bullshit, I’m a Fine Arts major, so.. You can gesso over a painting as many times as you wish; let’s see someone try that with their skin. I refuse to look a mess like all the other tackiness that inhabits my school building. At first I wanted to use this sun design I drew for a print and use it on my on one of my ankles. Then I wanted a plain black cross ( sort of like what Hayley Williams has on her lower thigh, but instead I wanted it on the side of either one of my lower legs and a bit bigger. Then I completely nixed the idea; they just weren’t strong enough ideas. It truly never went away, but the urge wasn’t as strong. For awhile I been thinking about something along the rib cage/back, but I’m not sure. And that has made me consider going all the way with the full body. If I go through with either I would have to get in some type of shape. I would want to show them off and not regret it. I don’t need people having trouble telling what it is and I don’t want the tattoo artist having trouble trying to hold all my flub in one spot. “I don’t think he ready fo’ this jelly.” I’ve been thinking a lot about them again. I’ve even made circumstances, if I am to get one. For now, all I know for a definite is that it must be one of my own drawings and that the tattoo artist has to be pure amazing. Hmm..decisions, decisions.


Statement


This piece was a post I wrote on another blog of mine. I like this one the most because it was one of my more natural writings; just something that was on my mind on at the time and that I felt like ranting about.

Rant

I don't care anymore. I just can't care anymore. It's just too much. Ugh. This is my second 
rejection letter. Well technically my first, I was wait-listed on the other one. But come on, 

it's basically the  the same thing. I know they weren't the ones I truly wanted, but it still 
hurts. When it came in the mail in the mail, I wasn't really surprised; it was a regular envelope, and we all know what the small envelopes mean. My eyes hit the middle of the letter and by chance I landed on the phrase "comes as a disappointment to you, Robert" I read the it over again at least least four times. At this point in life, I've come to terms with the fact that I'm incapable of expressing emotion. I give up trying to. But I'm starting to worry if I'm loosing all sense of my aspirations in life. Aspirations for life. I'm not gonna commit suicide or anything. I'm too much of a bitch. I honestly think you have to be one of the strongest people to give up your life. We set such high goals for ourselves in life, well at least I do, knowing how bad our circumstances are. I don't know why that's so bad. I know there's 

been countless times where I've been fucked, but I always take these huge ass leaps of faith, 

in hopes of progression. People state that they want you to bette yourself, but whenever 

you try, it seems like you never are giving the oppurtunity. I don't know, I'm not depressed, 

it's saddening and all. Depressed was being called gay, faggot, and everything else my three 

years in middle school brought me. I don't know. I don't know how I should feel towards 

this. This rat just isn't making sense anymore, so I'm gonna end it now.

I am

I am tall
I am huge
I am a mountain
I am a tower
I am a giraffe
I am a tree
I am a flag pole
I am skyscraper
I am a street lamp
I am a light house
I am the ideal basketball player
I hitting my head on the ceiling
I am too damn big
This is mainly what I get
I am Robert Boone and I’m honestly not that tall..

Knot Now

She adjusted his bow tie. When she finished, they both looked up into the mirror . Her lips slowly pulled together a smile. And in his ear he heard the phrase “ This is your night” This was Mathew Poeher’s first solo concert . They soon arrived at the opera house where he would be performing. Backstage, Mathew peaks his head through the crimson red curtains to find his wife sitting readily and attentive, who had aided him with anything and everything all in preparation for this night. She was placed in the semi-right of the forth row in the house seats. “ She deserves a better seat than that. She deserves better than this!”, he thought to himself. This show was no longer for Mathew, it  instead was for his wife. The crowd was packed; not an empty seat, and from the eager looks on their faces, Mathew knew her should head out. The lights began to dim after he gave his cue. You can see a young couple seven seats down from where Mathew’s wife was sitting. The two were so frantic. “He was just here.”, the husband said. The wife’s cry “Jonathan, Jonathan” drawled most of the surrounding people’s attention. The couple didn’t want to be rude so they sat back in their seats Suddenly, the spotlight slowly makes it way to the stage, and as the curtains pull open you find little Jonathan plopped upon the bench in front of the piano, playing on the keys. Mathew saw the young boy as he was walking out. At first, he was shocked; what was he to do? This was how his big night was supposed to start? The he flashed-back to a memory of a memory of his grandfather teaching him how to play piano every Sunday since he was a young boy. He was the reason for Mathew being the great musician that he is today. Mathew continued out onto the the stage and perched next to the little boy. The couple sitting there, afraid as to how he might react or what he might say. “ Keep on playing”, Mathew says to the little boy. Little Jonathan continues on in his rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and Mathew plays around the boy. It sounds lovely and everyone is enjoying themselves. When it is finished, the entire audience rises from their seats and applauds. And Mathew looks up to see the overwhelmed joy on his wife’s and Little Jonathan’s parents’ faces.

I almost just got into my first fight on public transportation.

I don’t know how I feel  at this moment. First off, this guy was drunk and saying some of the most stupid shit throughout the entire bus ride. So of course me and my friends had a good laugh the entire bus ride. After awhile, he started making these phone calls to different people saying how he feels as if people are talking about him, but he wasn’t sure since he was drunk, but if so, he was gonna “fuck them up”. I feel as if the phone calls were just a front because there were so many just so he could say the same statement. The sad part was the phone calls made us laugh even harder. The best laughs happen when you know you’re not supposed to. My friend moved up a seat, but I continued to sit in front of the guy. Part of me was really paranoid because I didn’t know if he was crazy, and if so, I kept imagining him stabbing me in the neck with a tooth pick. Finally he said a comment which wasn’t said to me but was obviously directed towards me, so my friend and I turned and looked directly at him. He said something to us, and I said something back to him, and then he finally got out of his seat and got way too close for personal. This definitely wasn’t unexpected. He was spitting with his nasty ass tongue ring. I honestly think if it would have hit me, I would of attacked him. Next thing I knew I was out of my seat and the the phrase “Nigga, if you don’t get out of my face” left my mouth. This was big because I’m usually a passive person, but I knew if I continued to sit, he would of thought I was a bitch and continued to try something. I wasn’t really scared of the man, he wasn’t really intimidating. We originally started laughing when he kept claiming he was from so and so plus he kept making these “phone calls” to prove his MANLINESS, so I pretty much got an idea of this man. I’m a 6”2 black guy, and I’m not saying that means anything (as I stated I’m usually very passive); it was just that I was the wrong one to mess with, well at least today I was. I honestly don’t know how it would of went. A fight was definitely going to occur, but the guy my friend is talking to along with his friend happened to be on the bus to break it up. I honestly haven’t gotten into a fight since high school started, and I definitely have never gotten into one on public transportation. The only thing I could think was ” Wait, if I’m about to fight this guy; what am I supposed to do with my bag. I never sit my bag down plus it has my somewhat new macbook pro in it.” I honestly don’t understand the logic in bus fights. And I can’t mention how bad I felt for letting the poor old lady next to me hear the language I used and get caught up in the middle of it. I know it’s kind of sad to say but I feel as if this was an accomplishment in my life. I actually stood up, and the idea of backing down never really occurred. I never address people on the shit they say about me. Honestly, it’s whatever to me, but I can see where this consisted mindset can lead to me being considered as a pushover. And I regret the fact that I didn’t fight the man because  I feel as if my new-found assertion waswaisted and since the fight didn’t occur, I’m so antsy and I guess all the adrenaline is still running through me. All I can say in the end is “Kudos to myself” and the usual: “You definitely meet some characters on the bus.”