'cerpts.

"We want, are paralyzed by, and run from, all at the same time…

...again with the slightly limited perspective, but i like your cup. whatever it is.

...we're all flawed...

perfection in the imperfect nature of how it all comes together. i think, maybe."

fuckyeahfall

chasing chemtrails
seventeen syllables abound.

neruda

"i love you as the plant that never blooms,
but carries with it the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love, a certain solid fragrance,
rises from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
i love you simply, without problems or pride:
i love you in this way
because i don't know any other way of loving…
…so that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
when i fall asleep
it is your eyes that close."

sing along with distant friends
their absence over my fire and bottle
look up, everything feels closer

oct.15th

bits from this beautiful day.

mix&mailing

the beginning of newest mailing.

packaged before i took a photo of the innards. oops.

that doorbell has become my favorite clipping find in the nytimes.

workings. precarious crafting.

goosebumps. they're beginning to take up residency on my body these days.

my heart breaks a little more each day, for something different.
a disabled addict locks himself in the bathroom at work.
bloody, yelling, he's no control over his fate…anymore.
systems have failed him, his body abandons ship in patches of skin.
for safety of others, i have to have him dragged out of the bathroom
leaving behind amorphous fluids and blood spattered hope.

thank you.

sometimes….

a friend, fretting over being "too crazy to be loved."

my only response: we just need to find someone, whose crazy makes our own, feel like home.

'cerpts

"these kinds of objects--and moreso my mind's wont to reminisce and re-assess an experience--have provided some solace during the last few years of twentysomething existence. however, the only object-element that has remained invariable within each and every relocation is a book (a collection). internally, every book contains a main narrative and also subplots and intricate sections that seem like they could exist as another narrative. externally, there is the narrative of my life, events and emotions that enliven me.

familiarity often leads to comfort and ease. this is one reason why we (you and i as well as the human we) choose to be object/ornament-minded.

you put it perfectly: Fall lends itself to moody days. "

everything in enigma

lacking actuality

all is guarded, filtered, my pages catch drops of truth

inkwells swell and pour over cotton and under fingers

smear along my walll

my sheets.

boots.

I suppose it's a good thing I didn't get everywhere I wanted this summer.

It leaves something for me to look forward upon. While I plan on returning to several of the spots I visited this year, there are still the Painted Hills to be seen and enjoyed as well as the rest of the desert in Oregon. I'd like to make it up to BC to camp. I'd like to see Death Valley & Joshua Tree. I may try to drive across the middle of the country. To Vicki's cabin for Friendship Weekend. To Yosemite. I'd like to go back to France. Iceland. See Spain. Korea. Turkey.

I would someday like a co-pilot.

irrelevance.

to forward motion.

admissions

i always wanted to sing with you.