1 October, 2016 07:55

http://wire.madebymichigan.com/josh_conanan I never would have thought it possible!

Josh Conanan


An[other] Enlightened Year

1.3.13 3am It’s funny how I always wanted to start off an entry like I’m stealing from fiction. I keep telling myself: “start a blog.” And here I am trying to keep myself as mysterious as possible? It’s ironic to have to come to terms with an my vision, which is:
..at least, what I would tell myself.. ” is that I’m human, and I want interaction, but I refuse to admit that I want it as bad as everyone else. I’ve convinced myself that I want it for myself, with my insecurities intact. ” The comfortable state of being myself slowly dwindled away at the thought of expressing myself by marketing myself by being self-driven yet living as the best self you can be sounds like every pre-written motto in every training video.

At any rate,

It’s been s u b l i m e .

I love it here. I could be further away from thi paranoia, the anxiety, the weariness, the agony, the struggle, of, fully, expressing, one, self.

What I’m trying to convey is my meaning behind my passion. I want to live a life holding close my perspective on life.  By all means, I will express myself freely, exercising my perspective, and focusing on every moving moment happening within my reach.


I’m feeling as if.. I’m tiring myself out. And as I need to, I r e a d myself – a little more.  I dig deeper into what I’m l  o  o k ing for and I suddenly find it – faster and then I think I have it; and then I acknowledge it. Yet, I exactly don’t forget what I was intending on to begin with.

Oh, how must I be to be feeling this feeling. 



whom I ought to be yesterday

the time once spent thinking about what I was going to be,

drained, and wrung itself into a thousand,


spreading diseased thoughts,


a competitive nature, ran it’s course,

and delve into the los angeles river,

along with the ideology that,

losers never win.

today isn’t going to be like that day,

today isn’t yesterday,

today is to be a day, unlike yesterday,

unlike ambition, there is no anxiety for success,

no risk,

nor rise,

nor fall,

a rainfall that’s certain to happen,

and a romance that’s certain an offspring,

letting nature run it’s course,

brought new identity to an already beautiful one,

the hope that we never change our view upon an old scenery,

depends on what we thought ourselves to be yesterday,

shall we grow,

shall we grow,

shall we?


beloved sun drenched shoulder blades,
you rummage in my pockets, looking for the note that’ll set you free.
and everything will make sense, much after it is found,
and the waves we’ll feel,
and the waves will disappear,
an invisible force,
makes it’s way into our bodies,
and we move like the waves do,
and we reach further into our pockets,
and we drown deeper in through the outside of ourselves tonight.


Letting the inside, fully take-outside of you.
From what we are.
and what we’ve been through.

the complexity of our images,
allure the whole new feeling,
that we won’t fight away without the night by our side.

and when we’ve given enough thought to our lives about where we’ve been,
spending those times with people and places and scenarios upon scenarios.

We run to escape the times.

Yet the anti still chases my mind through the light.
Stuck, is what it feels like.
But that’s not what I am.


Obsession, obliterated the constraints. 
Solitude, fastened the catalyst.The catalyst is my release,
And in isolation,
The beloved and cursed,
behaves and warmly insulates me,
In the dance around a flame.

Alleviate, sequences that reminisce,
of an allegory that never dies.
Experiment with eyes shut,
The openness of mindlessness,
an absence of restraint,
annihilate what used to keep me here,
manic depression is a parenthetic severity with nothing to recollect,
with a home – at rest – I’ll never forget. 


Remember the time,

The sunset ran away?

The moonrise was slowly welcoming us,

and the music ran a little longer than we expected.

The scent of your flowers seeped through the backseat,

and you turned around to grab them,

placed them on your lap,

and wished this moment would come along once again.

We don’t love enough unless there’s a reason to replace the pain,

we wildly hop into the backseat and trace a brand new pain,

and time is running forward, it hurts to see it end,

We don’t love enough unless there’s a reason to leave,

we unwillingly climb back to the front when we’re finished,

unfolding our wretched souls,

bending it to mend a new home,

hopeful of a time we can run away with the sunset,

and our passion can rise like the moon again,

and the music can run a little longer than expected,

and our minds can unfold like a blooming affair.