there's something about the u.s. postal service that reminds me of wal-mart. go at the wrong time, and you'll wish you had brought a bagged lunch while standing in line.

charlie and i did some recording a few days ago: www.myspace.com/rubbermulletmusic. enjoy. :)

in my right hand, spoon river anthology. in my left hand, the motorcycle diaries.

Any minute now my ship is coming in
I'll keep checking the horizon
And I'll stand on the bow
And feel the waves come crashing
Come crashing down, down, down on me

And you said,"Be still, my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in"
Don't you understand?
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

i feel that way today.

it's going to be amazing ((the leaves will droop with rain or the wind will dry it all)) the sky is not going to fall; i think. it's going to be: a scene out of spoon river [e.l.m.]. now all we need is a kickstand for this old-machine. all we need is a real freewheeler. all that, without saying anything (at all).

t.r., how are the florentine grapes this season? how are the shelves of souvenirs? do you remember or forget it yet? we were going to plan a trip to come see you and then we remembered that we are victims of the recession.

bottleneck effect, love builds up until everyone is loved equally before anyone is even met first.

this is life's sorrow:
that one can be happy only where two are;
and that our hearts are drawn to stars
which want us not.

i feel like i have so much to write, and so little access to the internet.

alas.

things are sitting in my [understanding of the metaphysical location of my] heart.

i u-turned in kinston because i figured it out and settled things in my mind. there was no point in driving on into the night, seeking a moonlit cigarillo beach walk. i had a long self-talk, the lunatic rantings that are needed once in a while to stay sane. the storm to restore the calm. i was running away, and i knew it. i need this, i said, as i drove. i started at the beginning of everything i could remember. the humming highway stretched out like a listening ear: you can scatter your burdens here. i spared no details and i told myself the truth. this happened and this happened and that. this may have been why, this could have been why, this could have been and yet is irrelevant now. and by kinston i knew what i needed to know and i knew it.

a friend proposed in rome this past week. i got a picture mail of the coliseum. the old thing standing there, an ancient structure. some people are still living dreams, and that is comforting.

you wonder what it all really means
you wonder if you'll ever find your dreams
and i wonder
if you know
what it means


i am hesitating in singleness. this may be a concept that only i understand and can fully appreciate. not the concept, but my understanding and experience of it. there is a craving inside me. it's not good for man to be alone. but womankind, you are confusing. there is a unique freedom and simplicity in singleness. but, there is also a uniqueness in a relationship with the right person. i hesitate to give up either. i don't know everything--and i may not know much--but i've learned that i can't always make people happy. sometimes it is my failing. sometimes it is not my business or responsibility to make them happy. i do my best, i succeed, i fail, i am exactly human.

come on, get higher
loosen my lips
faith and desire
and the swing of your hips
just pull me down hard
and drown me in love

my friend soumya from india is possibly the most unique person i've ever met.

my proposing friend texts me:

In a bar. Lauras sleep. Live band. Old negro spirituals. English. England never enhlish like america made english. I'm very alone in the bar. I saw where keats died.

never think

3.1 miles (5k). 27 minutes. i'm getting closer to my goal every time i run. and this is my goal: to beat my best 5k time that i ran in high school: 21 minutes. to do this, i'll have to run about 6min 45sec miles. that's over 8.5mph. which is doable, eventually. right now, i'm running between 6.5 and 7.5mph, depending on the tempo of my music.

but this is just the beginning of my new list of goals. the section of this list devoted to running goes something like: run a 5k, a 10k, a half marathon. i don't know if i'll ever get to a full marathon because of my knees, but i'll try it if i get to that point.

i feel the running addiction building. the physical and mental demand of distance running is tiring, but the way i feel afterwards is unique. it's a feeling of physical and mental success, as far as determination goes. usually around mile one i hit a wall. after that, i get a little tired around 2.5 miles. these are the points i have to make the decision to keep going. when i do, i feel a lot stronger mentally than physically.

i have other goals now, too. a few things i'm not going to write about here. i will keep them to myself and let them be mine. that way i own them. one that i will share is that i'm keeping my eyes open for a self-respecting girl with similar interests. in the past, i wasted years on what ifs and if onlys. i was faithful to the love i recently lost. i did everything i could do, and so i don't feel guilty about moving on with my life and feeling free to find someone who will love me for who i am. it's probably obvious that could say a lot about this, but my other goal is to let it go, starting now.

i've been writing more music lately. it seems to happen a lot that by the time i get songs written, my life has changed dramatically and they no longer apply, if that makes sense. and so they become milestones. reminders of another life. maybe they served a purpose at one time. maybe they still can. but i usually create new songs/paintings/poems at a faster pace than what i can keep up with on the editing/meditating end of it. like there is a lure in the potential of the unwritten, undrawn, unpainted. what is is and has its meaning and attached contexts. what can be is elusive, but has a sweeter smile. a mirage effect, i guess.

i finished reading revelation. it made a lot of sense to me this time. maybe it was the king james formal english, the repetition in wordings. there were a few parts where i knew i wasn't understanding the symbolism, but for the most part it makes sense. what stands out to me the most is that there is a plan, a schedule, a procession already determined, like an intricate play. and clearly there is a group of people that it will be good to be among, and a group of people that it will not be good to be among. it's very though-provoking to read something that spins the gears of your understanding of reality, what reality is, etc.

oops, time to run wild.

each day feels like a new shock of reality. each day another layer is peeled away and i see a brighter sun, a clearer sky. a warmer beam of light shines in on me in through the blinds. are my clothes any cleaner, crisper, smoother? i'm not sure. is the coffee any fresher, and more real than yesterday?

layers are being pulled away, non-realities are shed, the truth of things is rising to the surface. each day i feel a deeper understanding of it all; the 'what' and 'why' are being defined. it is a mercy that mercy and mistakes work to the same end. the grace of avoidance and choices in ignorance both reveal to the willing what is rising up and being uncovered.

today i read jude and the first 8 chapters of revelation from a kjv bible. i picked it up for free from a thrift store in burlington. (the lady said "in my mind, if anyone wants to read it, it's theirs to have.) in jude, i found a line from a song my ex used to listen to while painting:

wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever.

i was surprised to find out that it was a biblical quote. i started thinking about why portishead would put it in the song. do they have a religious background? is it taken out of context? is it used mockingly, ironically, dramatically?

it was a bittersweet reminder, the kind that has been happening for a few months now. but i'm not fighting these reminders. i let them happen as they will. in a way, there is happiness in them, and there is also a necessary pain. it is like some natural healing process that happens to purge the heart. doing the emotional laundry.

i know i have buried a lot of emotion and thought and such the past couple of months. it will all rise in its good time. a lot of things i was too hurt or sad to do anything about except hunker down and bear through it (maybe my most common reaction to the unpleasant). the loss and hurt and misunderstandings and longings and confusion and regret were compressed. but there is love and mercy for me still; i know this, and i feel it more clearly every day.

i heard that one of my friends has been in contact with my ex-best friend. apparently some things were explained or clarified. my friend said that if i wanted, he might be able to arrange some sort of contact between me and my ex-best friend.

when i heard all this, i exploded inside. i could feel opposing feelings pulling me apart. i thought to myself "what am i supposed to do?" i told him that i wasn't sure if contact would be a good thing. it's not that i don't want it. in a way, i desperately want it. but what i really want is for my ex-best friend to be happy and not hate me, to understand me and accept me as i am. what i'm scared to death of is ever doing anything that would make her dislike me again. when you truly love someone, i think that is the most painful thing to have happen. whether it's a look in their eye or a tone of voice, to feel them being disgusted or angry at you is overwhelming.

stand still
i won't take one more step towards you or away from you.
you say i just won't do. there's nothing i can do.
so i stand still.
i told you i have problems, trouble with the letting go.
you let me go long ago, but i'm still holding on.
so i stand still.
i say i just won't do. i know i just won't do.
you need someone like you...
so i stand still.

'at first my heart thought you could break this jinx for me,
that love would turn a trick to end despair'
-chet baker, everything happens to me

this song is one of my favorites of all time. the lyrics are solid. the music is the definition of 'melancholy relaxation'. sweet, smooth, soft jazz. i listen to chet sing, and i know that he's thinking in his head to sing notes like he would play them on his trumpet.

'i fell in love just once, and then it had to be with you.
everything happens to me.'

to a happy person, this will probably come across as a mopey, woe-is-me song. but to those who have be through some hard times, it's an understanding susura.

i had never gone on a date with someone i didn't know at all.

had. :)

it was enjoyable. i didn't feel nervous. i didn't feel uncomfortable at all. i think i approached the situation with a sense of adventure. trying something new. listening. learning. telling. explaining. i had a good time.

i think i have a new understanding of who i am and where i am in life. i go into situations feeling calm. job interviews. meeting people. despite what position others might be in, i know that we are all the same. you might be a manager, but you are a person too. you might be a cool girl, but you are a person too.

i suppose the dust has settled.

i ran 5k on monday. 29 minutes. not a great time, really, but i did it. it's the time i started at when i started cross country in high school. i should be able to knock 8 minutes off the time in about a month.

i keep thinking about the half marathon at the outer banks this fall. it's my siren song.

today at starbucks my manager, matt, mentioned the possibility of me stepping up to be a shift manager. my first reaction was a feeling of doubt about whether i could take on that responsibility, to be the one that baristas look to for needs and answers and help. i'm not sure i have it in me.

but i know i do. it's just like anything else. you learn the ropes, you put your back into it.

but as a career path? with not much turning up on the job search (at all), i sit here wondering if maybe a life of simplicity, though accompanied by the stress and poverty of being a shift, might be a good change for a while. if i could cut out costs, live simply, frugally, maybe it could work.

but there are so many costs i just can't cut out. rent, car, student loans, insurance, food, gas, phone.

but it's got me thinking again about where i'm going and what i'm doing in life. why should i try to squeeze my way back into the rat race? some would say 'to have a steady income for a wife and kids.' some might say 'to be able to do the things you want.'

and so the simple mention of a promotion spurs an afternoon of reanalyzing myself, what i want out of life, and where i want to go. i've been having so many 'where do i go from here?' moments lately, you'd think i'd be good at this by now. but every day seems so new and full of potential that it's sometimes hard to unite myself into one being. maybe that doesn't make sense.

i've avoided being a shift since i started working at starbucks in 2005. is it time?

i went running last night, and halfway through the run it got dark. as i was running down the moderately country road, i heard a rustling in the bushes. it caught my attention because it wasn't a small-animal rustle. it was a big animal rustle. chances are, it was a deer being disturbed from its nap. but as i was running by that area, i thought "please don't be a mountain lion or a wolf or a bear."

today, roomie told me that a friend of his went running at falls lake a while ago. out on the trail alone, she came across a black bear. she stopped dead in her tracks, turned around, and then simultaneously ran the fastest she had ever run before and peed herself.

as roomie was telling this story, i thought to myself, "what if it had been some fierce animal last night?"

i'm pretty sure i would have been eaten. here's why.

i've read two conflicting theories about how to deal with an encounter with a bear, not to mention other wild animals, such as large cats. one theory states that you should run away in zigzag patterns. maybe climb a tree, too. the other theory not only says that bears can climb trees, but also that you shouldn't run from them because they can outrun you. instead, you should either stand tall and make loud noises, or play dead.

i guess it all depends on the size and type of animal and how hungry the animal is. but my point is, if i'm out for a run, i'm in the running "zone". my brain has shut off. all i know is foot steps and breathing patterns.

this is not the state of mind to be in when facing life or death situations. i don't know. i guess i would just keep running, and fight if necessary.

it's strange how large, aggressive wild animals don't have the concept of what is and is not acceptable to eat. bears, wolves, tigers, sharks, colossal squids. they eat what they can catch when they are hungry. that's it. if runner is present at the time, runner is dinner. it's insanity.

i think wild animals are insane.

morrisville to 40 west to efland to 70 west to mebane to burlington to greensboro to 40 east to 220 to asheboro to rockingham to sc, u-turn, hwy 1 to southern pines to sanford (nothing much going on in sanford but memories floating) to apex. thoughts were thought. issues were clarified.

i'm ready for this.

tuesdays are not nothing days. every new day is a blank piece of paper. i'm still not sure why i have such a hard time letting go of the past, but today i learned about potential.

mis queridos lectores,

i remember the winding road that smells of saltwater marshes, and how it curves its way to your parents' house. i remember the red bicycles we rode soon after the rain before we grew up. i remember you driving me to all the houses you ever lived in. i remember the nighttime clouds glowing red above us. i remember the chill of air conditioning as we sat at an abandoned piano. i remember learning samurai techniques outside and facts of war inside. i remember not liking the smell of your cigarettes. i remember liking the taste of butter rum tobacco at 2am on a beach in morehead city. i remember losing trains of thought. i remember the passage from boy toy to punching bag in six autumn months. i remember your name. i remember not remembering your name. i remember guessing at the spelling of your name. i remember baking you cakes. i remember the smell of your kitchen: bacon and coffee. i remember one branch in the tree being lower than all the others. i remember the smell of the detergent you use. i remember your birthday, finally. i remember flying in an airplane with you. i remember your footprint in the sand in charleston. i remember sitting speechless before you, ashamed and tongue-tied. i remember telling God what i thought about it all. i remember sitting in a car with you the day we met. i remember why i wanted to leave college and die instead. i remember summer thunderstorms happening while i played guitar on a porch swing. i remember the first time i ever ran 5k. i remember what it was like in the beginning and how the wind blew. i remember changing the bedsheets. i remember following you to the waterfall. i remember your stories about being enlisted. i remember that you work at a jewelry store. i remember that you are from san francisco and are a better writer. i remember translating your poem to read aloud in class. i remember digging holes in the dirt with you. i remember a candy store in town. i remember walking lockered hallways unauthorized and unnoticed. i remember leaning on a fence on top of a mountain. i remember snakes in rivers, pools, and aquariums. i remember your favorite foods. i remember the blue shirt you wore when you told me you were going to australia for a year. i remember submitting payments and checking the mail. i remember the world's fattest raccoons standing on their hind legs, begging for food. i remember fields of grass and corn. i remember never seeing seattle. i remember fearing heights and murky water. i remember sand as cold as snow. i remember waiting for you to answer the phone. i remember sunlight fading a thousand times. i remember so much time spent in a body that i can't draw. i remember the first line to your song. i remember that we played ping pong to pass time and not for score. i remember the way they remodeled the tunnel. i remember you waiting for my reply in spanish. i remember walking with you along fort fisher. i remember the fire ants at fort caswell. i remember the archways at fort sumter. i remember loving you for your taste in music. i remember walking on dry leaves near the lake. i remember drinking more coffee than i can remember. i remember the streets of my hometown. i remember being completely lost in your hometown. i remember watering down wine for communion. i remember being told not to fall in love and falling in love anyway. i remember writing letters to you in spanish and eventually losing all contact with you. i remember glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. i remember seafood in baskets along the street. i remember singing songs with you. i remember believing you. i remember reading peter pan out loud. i remember washing the same clothes over and over again. i remember petting stingrays. i remember accepting me as i was and then hating myself and then accepting me as i am. i remember the things i regret. i remember showing you the abandoned piano. i remember loving you the most. i remember moving heavy furniture in the summer heat. i remember the house your parents built. i remember liking cake and then not liking cake any more. i remember you in coffee shops, reading things you wrote and hoping for approval. i remember asking you what a verse meant. i remember the smell of mexico. i remember fishing in a pond with a hook and string. i remember slurping jell-o. i remember doctors with needles. i remember a december field at night. i remember a mud fight in the river. i remember swapping secrets. i remember soy milk and cereal. i remember trying to figure it all out and falling asleep in a fury of tears instead. i remember reading words you had read before. i remember following you in through the back door. i remember dorm room conversations until dawn. i remember being a passenger in a hundred cars. i remember the general idea of scattered conversations. i remember the pain in your eyes on a wednesday. i remember ordering veggie burgers and eating tomatoes. i remember melodies. i remember sunshine through the blinds blinding me. i remember watching you on stage. i remember your face in the crowd. i remember the way you shave your face. i remember your words of advice. i remember it all.

con cariño,
tomas

rustico. rustic. dust. iconic.

there is sand in my soul. some is dry, blowing here and there, covering broken shells and things. some is wet, slurring beneath the waves as they tumble in.

i drew a picture of me in straight lines. all straight lines. i drew until i was sick. i drew something sad on accident. it was me, accidentally. i drew an icon of myself, something sandy, sad, and rusticonic. i went to bed with a headache. i woke up with a headache, sweating. i didn't mean to draw it so sad.

today, roommate moves in. what does this mean for me? the dry sand part of my soul feels the freedom that this change brings. while the slurring wet sand of my soul churns memories and emotions beneath the surface, i lift my feet. paddle hard. kick hard. catch this wave at just the right moment. there is both joy and pain in experience. but awaiting me on the dry sandy beach is...

a brown bird is sitting on a branch outside. through the window, i see it's yellow-orange beak opening. who is it calling to? other birds? worms ("here, wormy, wormy")? i could see birds having a sense of humor. cats, no. but birds, sure. or is it just sounding off into the day? it appears to have intentions; it must have a motive. i can barely hear the noises it makes because of this glass barrier. i see its mouth opening, it's head turning anxiously. after staring at it for a few minutes, i get it. the meaning sets in, and i understand.

you are a sad little thing. so fragile, yet so capable and amazing in a thousand ways. i know what you are saying. you are speaking in generalities and stereotypes, proclaiming condemnation on the world you don't understand. you are an unfair little creature, bold in discharging your claims in the gibberish language you speak. you see the world through tiny eyes. you think that because you can fly the world is below you.

then you stare at me, stare through the window into my eyes, and deliver your claim of entrapment. foolish bird. my heart breaks for you, but i do not care where you fly to next.
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'for this is so because'

there is something under the surface of this. there is a hidden attempt to say what i want to say without actually saying it. it is something best left unsaid. after all, it's 2009. soon it will be 2010. soon it will be 20__. where will it get me to express this? it's almost comical that i feel the need to even hint at it. so, i wonder why this is so. it is a desire for the truth to be known. but, it is a truth that is better unknown.
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i know, i know, i let you down
fifty more years and i'll be underground
i know, i know, i know

a glass that recently held water sits nearby on the bookshelf. this is another failure of language, as the glass does not sit. but you should see it trying the best it can. it's very touching.

no one remembers you, glass. no one but me. i brought you here one night, in a box with others like you. then, you were a mirror image of a mirror image. tonight, you sit nearby, resting your clarity and translucence. tonight, you are form and entity. though all others on this planet--whether bustling, still, or lifeless--are unaware of you and unconcerned with your existence, i know you; i can make a measure of your value. you are not lost.
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a friend commented on the fulfillment of being listened to and is precisely right. it is nights like tonight with bad weather threatening and few friends and those few friends sick and chet baker crooning apathetically that mi alma gathers in a desperate, anxious 'oh, someone to listen to me...' It is no small thing. it is immediately a telling spiritual issue. it could be an evening discussion between those who would do the issue justice. but here it is, 10:32pm; the evening is fizzling out.
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i haven't forgotten you, glass, and yes, you are very good and patient. i'll fill you with the clearest, coldest water i can find. we'll share this evening, just you and i. you're not alone.
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i don't believe in circles of friends. this terminology suggests that between one friend and another is a perfectly arched relationship. not only is there no such thing as a perfect human relationship, there is no such thing as an arched relationship.
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the central heating system turns on and runs and almost blends in with but overcomes the sound of rain outside and jazz inside. about once every five years i meet someone who mentions how (s)he talks to her/himself when (s)he is alone. i have become one of those people, and it is a tiny bit (but is it really?) strange, weird, funny, frightening. i don't buy those scenarios where the stranded/isolated sailor/astronaut loses the ability to speak a coherent language. it's too familiar. it's too comforting. there is a fulfillment in being listened to; there is also a comfort in hearing speech. the stranded and isolated among us will not relinquish these benefits, even if it is their own mouth speaking, their own ears hearing, their own minds splitting into speaker and listener/audience.
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glass, you sit too still; you listen too intently. you are a poor audience. your clarity absorbs none of my meanings. glass, you have fallen from your pedestal.
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the music is on repeat; the music is on repeat. the night tells a joke that is not funny after all and saunters away to the squinting fields and woods and flooded ditches. all the evening heroes have missed their cues or thrown the game. all the raindrops are making their way inch by inch. i lay here, feet beneath orchestrated cotton blankets, imagining documenting each and every raindrop's location of origin, volume, shape, spacial relation to other raindrops, altitude, temperature, value of increase in velocity, change in shape (they become aquadonuts), change in volume, path of descent, alterations in path of descent due to wind, collisions, conglomerations of multiple raindrops, expected point of impact, actual point of impact, measure of divergence between expected and actual points of impact...

for each and every drop. all night long. i think about these sorts of things because for some reason it matters to me if these details are being recorded. i want all the insignificances of life and existence and happening to be on file. i'm sure it is selfishness pulsing through my blood--this desire to spend day 1,276,298,323 in heaven talking to God about how the wind blew outside my window on march 1st, 2009. 'you thought that i was altogether like you.' i, of course, know that the concept of days will evaporate in infinite glory. it is just that, on nights like tonight, if all the insignificant and unimportant things were being tracked and filed, i wouldn't feel so insignificant and unimportant myself. see, i told you it was selfishness.
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time to fill you, glass, with stone-cold water. oh! would it kill you to pretend some excitement?

news news i finally saw la bamba .i think. for the first time. found out i'm going to be an uncle times two. great news :) congrats Chris and Emily!

put some new scratch song ideas up on my myspace. tried to do it on facebook like desiree said, but couldn't get it to work. eh. i'm really excited about music lately. it is becoming my obsession like stroik said it should be. it is one of the very very few things that i cannot ignore, that i have to face on a daily basis. it always seems to be with me, this question of what i am capable of musically. a constant companion like t.h. sings. a dare, almost. 'betcha can't think of something better. betcha can't improve your voice.' who is this whispering inside me? is this me?

the job front has been silent this week. applied at a few places, but it's mentally and emotionally exhausting. i told jessica today that i now understand why people go into business for themselves. it's not the work that people dread. work is enjoyable. it makes the day feel...used well. the problem is putting yourself into the whole system of a job. the fall-in-lineness.

corolla, nc, has wild horses. these horses can be seen north of where hwy 12 deadends in a roundabout at the beach. i've been to that roundabout twice, but i've never gone out on the beach to see the horses. there isn't really anywhere to park near there. someday i'm going to go back to see the horses. 'wild horses, man. wild horses.' as charlie and i say. wild horses don't fall in line.

lately i've been wondering what animals do when it gets cold. driving home from closing at starbucks, i usually see groups of deer on the side of the road, and i wonder how they survive nights when it gets really cold. i guess the fur helps. or do they have hair? on cold nights when i see them running away into the trees and tall grass, i feel so bad for them. i picture walking through the woods, feeling the cold dampness of dew on my skin and clothes, shivering. poor deer.

i just realized that it's friday night and it's been a long time since i've felt that there is something special about friday nights. "it's friday night, we should do something." the days are running into each other (por qué un día se junta con un día?). like harmony and melody.

i can imagine brandi carlile and chet baker sitting together on a park bench in chicago. i can imagine a log cabin constructed entirely of redwoods. i can imagine 100,000 airplanes flying across the sky. i can imagine holding my breath for 26 seconds. i can imagine someone else imagining something else.

i hear c.b. singing 'my funny valentine' and fill with aspiration. a thousand passions at once one note at a time. almost no nuances. to sing so singfully as though not singing at all but only breathing a long exhale below a london fog. to sound so absolutely unconcerned.

wednesday morning before the imaginary line of day vs. night was crossed i laid quite unconcerned as c.b. may have once lain upon a bed in a darkened room. he of course would have been wide awake humming a tune just above a whisper. there would have been the background sound of the street below. i imagine chet never strayed very far from that sound.

i can imagine but most likely not what you can imagine. what can you imagine?

this afternoon, i reclaimed my apartment. took out the garbage and things now considered garbage. a matter-of-fact day. like stepping outside and accepting that the temperature will be what it will be. dress accordingly.

all morning long, i let the sunlight set the pace, however it wanted to fall in through the blinds, draw lines on me as i slept. no records were kept. no one will ever know the speed of this light, the paths of those shadows. this is just to show the so-many happenings that only God knows. leaves in China flittered somewhere. saltwater molecules changed degrees in sunlight, while stars exploded in places that are beyond our understanding of "where". who is keeping track of everything? infinity. infinite factors while i sleep. who is keeping track of me.

i continue to dress myself in wrinkled lines. my socks are thicker than they need to be, but my feet turn cold regardless. i'm balding, i think. my friend watches sports instead of seeking adventures. i watch seinfeld instead of sleeping. i wonder if joe purdy is glancing at my soul and taking notes. i wonder why i am so uneducated. half of the music i like doesn't sound as good when others are listening to it with me. no one is documenting. no one is planning. no one knows the right questions to ask. no one's ears are soft enough.

i'm sure there must be something in me. a little meaning, maybe, but some definition. probably not a way to define the world, not so much influence as that, but an additive. i love the smell of pepper. i lost my voice the day i was born and have been searching for it ever since. my ears are big and i listen to everything around me. i put in my headphones and block out the sounds with sounds. i guess it is the "ancient heavenly connection" that i'm looking for after all. that which inspires me to remove the headphones.

i can write forever that which my mouth looks at sideways, and begs for a teleprompter. i know that i am different, i work differently than everyone else. i am unique, not smarter or better or different. i am the same as everyone else, but an exception, i think. mostly, i don't seem to care about things that most people care about, or think or talk the way others talk. my speech is short and my tongue knows its limits, but my brain and fingers will always have their way with this keyboard. no one is taking notes, so i type myself away.

this is brain on paper. what is this? this is pasttime. this is ego. this is obsession beginning. this is the start of something.

today is not a poetic day. today is normal. today is drifting, but not like a leaf on a river. more like seaweed in the surf. back and forth, with an indiscernible path of motion. today is saturday, the pause between two separate weeks. a lull in time. i did my taxes. i thought about the past. i made some decisions.

i find it interesting how serious relationships can be or feel, and if the the world explodes and the dust settles, we can shake it off and try again with someone new. it almost makes me a little skeptical about love, what love is, what it means. as if love is something that means only as much as you let it mean. a currency of sorts, that holds the value we say it holds. i want to be with you because i have this many love units for you. investments are made, accounts grow and merge. maybe it ends well, maybe someone makes the big withdrawal. eh, just start saving again.

and so the saving begins again. i'm not sure why, yet, but i'll find out some day. i've beat myself up for a couple months, wondering what's wrong with me, why i wasn't good enough, smart enough, aware enough, mature enough. i made plans to rearrange everything to be who i thought i needed to be. i hated myself for losing the account. everywhere i went, i was thinking about it. searching through old receipts, recalculating, totaling it all again and again. love is a maddening business if you don't realize that the saving can begin again. accounts may close, but funds are transferable.

and so it is saturday and the saving begins again. "sometimes nothing can be done."

a small room with mustard-brown walls and fake hardwood floors tells me how big i may be. it is something of a nook, the way most people would think of a nook. and i am in it. i suppose that i am nooked. the windows are old and leak in the cold air that drifts about in the woods outside. the window panes were painted white, once, but have since changed their minds and are stripping and flaking their way back to their natural color.

greg is singing about seas and gamblers. i would sing along, but this room tells me how loud i may be. also, i know nothing of seas and gamblers. i would say that i have seen two seas, but that is not quite true. i have seen the edges of two seas. i have seen two shores. i certainly know little about the sea, and most of me believes that if gamblers, in the truest sense of the word, still exist, they probably spend most of their time at sea. what better thing to gamble with than the dangers of the sea.

what sort of gambles do i find in concreteness of suburbia? "will my five alarms wake me up on time?" "is this milk expired?" "do i really need to separate dark and light laundry?" these constitute my realm of adventure. 178,786 days ago, magellan led five ships west from seville, searching for the east. 75,406 days ago, lewis and clark set out on their expedition across uncharted land. 14,457 days ago, neil and buzz speckled the moon with their footprints. 2 days ago, i considered taking a different way home from work.

so, is the world shrinking? our sense of a place to go, a tangle of woods to explore, a distance or height or depth to chart--shrinking, or changing somehow? or the ability to be bigger than a room says we may be? david sings "busco el raro encantamiento". i am searching for the rare enchantment. the one-of-a-kind something-special. the know-it-when-you-see-it "Of course!"

i am no sea captain. i sail no seas. i hoist no sails. i know people do these things still, but...the digital radios and satellite tracking. i would bet a ship could steer itself around the world these days. sorry magellan. maybe today's great adventure is learning to exist and coexist on this shrunken planet.