And there I was, just like the story I read out loud last night, stuck in the middle of the woods. I could go one way or the other, both entirely separate routes. Mid-road-reality; the only place to actually exist. To be selfish or graceful, its now or never. I chose the high road, I let you talk. I said my piece then you said yours. This grace thing is killing me but all hard work pays off, right?
23 March 2011
22 March 2011
01 March 2011
09 February 2011
07 February 2011
06 February 2011
Remixed
mixed by using only sounds from the given movie, kid is unreal.
http://www.youtube.com/user/Fagottron
thankyouson.
03 February 2011
Move me.
Today is Thursday. Thursdays are good days. Today is a good day. Maybe Incubus was right, "My greatest fear will be the rescue of me, strange how it turns out that way." Train, oh train, dear el-eye-double-are. Who would have thought that it was you that was missing from me? A place to get my thoughts out and down, not down and out. Complaining about you for months but how could I? You take me, you move me, you transport me to my most favorite place. Literally and figuratively. A busy place for a busy mind somehow creates peace. Lovely little contradictions.
02 February 2011
Groundhog Day
Although this post is for all to enjoy, it is specifically dedicated to my very best friend, a fellow SAD sufferer. No more winter blues baby. With perfect teeth, the way we are.
01 February 2011
26 January 2011
Grace
Its three which means there are two to go. Its amazing to think about the weight of words. Words change thoughts. Words change feelings. Words change everything. Mine caught above my shoulders, circling
like sharks. Released to grace paper that will never be delivered. Grace; maybe that is grace. To think, then to feel, only to rethink, and to revise. Wise words once said, "We cannot always control our thoughts, but we can control our words, and repetition impresses the subconscious, and we are then master of the situation." It was about me and my and I because of you. Solely focused on the former not the latter. The sun doesn't know its just a star. Shining so brightly but with no vision that its not the only one. Then came your words, words that Ive shared before, therefore hitting home. Home, yes home, our home. No longer about me and my and I, I finally thought of you. A calming sense of your needs put my circling words to rest. Naturally, organically, without thought or work. Things in perspective; all things where they belong. To understand and empathize is the highest of the arts. Art that's not created nor learned, just there to put the uneasy at ease.
like sharks. Released to grace paper that will never be delivered. Grace; maybe that is grace. To think, then to feel, only to rethink, and to revise. Wise words once said, "We cannot always control our thoughts, but we can control our words, and repetition impresses the subconscious, and we are then master of the situation." It was about me and my and I because of you. Solely focused on the former not the latter. The sun doesn't know its just a star. Shining so brightly but with no vision that its not the only one. Then came your words, words that Ive shared before, therefore hitting home. Home, yes home, our home. No longer about me and my and I, I finally thought of you. A calming sense of your needs put my circling words to rest. Naturally, organically, without thought or work. Things in perspective; all things where they belong. To understand and empathize is the highest of the arts. Art that's not created nor learned, just there to put the uneasy at ease.
25 January 2011
10 January 2011
inspired
And the last you heard was just how uninspired I was by all that surrounds me. Well there is one thing, one flame of inspiration these days. Not a place but a person. Una palabra. Inspiration bundled up into a body, a soul. One that rests his head to my left day in and day out; oh, how lucky am I? You know who you are, more karma-careful than Buddha. Inspiring me to do the right things, say sorry when I am wrong, be fair to those around me. You wake with contagious smiles and fall asleep with infectious laughter. Always wearing even-keeled well. Nicer, kinder, happier; thank you.
05 January 2011
uninspired
Its been so long since I've actually written, since I've actually cared to write at all. It saddens me that I have little around me that inspires me right now. I shouldn't complain but I'm going to...I miss the crisp, dirty city air, I miss forever-sunny Brooklyn, I miss the overcrowded subways, I miss the people, all of them. Music, new music, every.single.day. Sick of this cookie-cutter-cultureless-island. I miss seeing something new everyday. Feeling something new, hearing something new, smelling something new. Something that touches my soul. I miss my friends and my enemies. I miss souvlaki at 3am and Thai food on a whim. I miss Craigslist missed connections and the commonplace of whiskey. Cowboy boots & hot pretzels. I want to walk outside and actually feel my surroundings. Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in.
16 November 2010
10 November 2010
11/10/10
Hung up the phone in a daze. Your far away voice so close to me. Left me in a trance. Red then green then red again. The lights turned, I didn't. No music playing, no music needed. Air filled with song. We're still here. You're still here. Same giggly, Aristotle-reading, wanderer. You'll never stray far. The feeling of full- an after thanksgiving dinner kind of full. Full and thankful. It was just us. Plain, simple us. I wrote today's date near twenty times today but it held no meaning until now. You're more than in my head.
an orange sunset
Where does love go when its lost? Does it float around in vast space or dissipate into thin air? The hollow hearts longing. Re-filled but still partially empty. Always. A different kind of fill. Each love is a different jig-sawed puzzle piece. Different from the rest. Different, yes again. Lots of pieces, none the same. Each perfectly designed for that space. Space and time. Time does not mean space, space does not mean time. Flashbacks sharp as lightning. Daydreams beautifully blurry. A bare room, a top sheet, an orange sunset.
04 November 2010
06 October 2010
05 October 2010
...
He asked me years ago to define the word "Love." He asked many, in fact. It was an assignment that I wouldn't hand in on time, I honestly don't think I even handed it in that same semester. But I do remember writing it. I remember mulling over and over about it, trying to come up with the perfect thing to say, the 'nail on the head' of writing and defining. And then, back then, way back then, I thought I got it. I remember writing something to the extent of "Love is the last money left in your bank account used to buy your significant other a present, something to make them happy, to see their eyes light up." To me then, back then, way back then, love was about extremes. The highest highs and lowest lows. Winter and Summer. Black and white.
Years gone by, loves gone by. Love on so many different levels and so many different extremes. But thats what it takes, doesn't it? Years. Extremes. Experience. I thought about the specific day he asked us to define that word, that little "L" word, that four letter word with so much meaning and honesty. Proustian moments somehow find their way to connect me to him and that classroom constantly, a smell, a taste, a sound, a sight, and I'm right back there. Today it was the distant sky. The same dark but harmless sky as the day he had assigned the assignment. Little did I know that 5 years later I would begin to reevaluate my answer.
Now, today, here, right here love is different. Its no longer an extreme, an up or a down. Its not the "POP" at the highest point of the firework, nor is it the "BANG" of the bullet leaving the guns barrel. Its the quiet of the before and after. Love is what happens when nothing at all happens. The peaceful altruistic moments we have for one another without even realizing we did so. Love is when we don't think, but just do.
We were walking around the neighborhood [a commonplace for us] I was wearing your sweatshirt. Oversized just enough to keep me perfectly warm in this cool Fall weather. I had pushed up the sleeves, about halfway up my forearm, probably so I could talk freely with my hands as I always do. Mid-conversation you leaned over and pulled the sleeves down past my hands then rolled each one up so that the edge of the sweatshirt just reached my wrist. We never stopped walking, we never stopped talking, I never said "thank you," I never asked "why." I didn't need to. I didn't even realize it occurred until much later. I'll never know exactly why you did what you did, Im not even sure if you do. My guess is that somewhere in your head, somewhere in between our playful conversation, and the gorgeous weather of this Fall season, you probably thought I was cold, or uncomfortable, and without thought or words or interruption you did what you did. That's love.
If he were to ask me today, at this very moment, to define that little word I would only have one thing to say. One short, precise answer, "Love is an ellipsis."
Years gone by, loves gone by. Love on so many different levels and so many different extremes. But thats what it takes, doesn't it? Years. Extremes. Experience. I thought about the specific day he asked us to define that word, that little "L" word, that four letter word with so much meaning and honesty. Proustian moments somehow find their way to connect me to him and that classroom constantly, a smell, a taste, a sound, a sight, and I'm right back there. Today it was the distant sky. The same dark but harmless sky as the day he had assigned the assignment. Little did I know that 5 years later I would begin to reevaluate my answer.
Now, today, here, right here love is different. Its no longer an extreme, an up or a down. Its not the "POP" at the highest point of the firework, nor is it the "BANG" of the bullet leaving the guns barrel. Its the quiet of the before and after. Love is what happens when nothing at all happens. The peaceful altruistic moments we have for one another without even realizing we did so. Love is when we don't think, but just do.
We were walking around the neighborhood [a commonplace for us] I was wearing your sweatshirt. Oversized just enough to keep me perfectly warm in this cool Fall weather. I had pushed up the sleeves, about halfway up my forearm, probably so I could talk freely with my hands as I always do. Mid-conversation you leaned over and pulled the sleeves down past my hands then rolled each one up so that the edge of the sweatshirt just reached my wrist. We never stopped walking, we never stopped talking, I never said "thank you," I never asked "why." I didn't need to. I didn't even realize it occurred until much later. I'll never know exactly why you did what you did, Im not even sure if you do. My guess is that somewhere in your head, somewhere in between our playful conversation, and the gorgeous weather of this Fall season, you probably thought I was cold, or uncomfortable, and without thought or words or interruption you did what you did. That's love.
If he were to ask me today, at this very moment, to define that little word I would only have one thing to say. One short, precise answer, "Love is an ellipsis."
04 October 2010
23 September 2010
Fresh
Willow Smith
Will Smith's daughter
Age 9.
Signed by Jay-Z
No jokes.
I guess this is what happens when your Dad is the fresh prince.
A May Zing.
Will Smith's daughter
Age 9.
Signed by Jay-Z
No jokes.
I guess this is what happens when your Dad is the fresh prince.
A May Zing.
09 September 2010
I just couldnt help myself
Sorry Zac [Efron] I re-fell in love with Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Whether you love him or loathe him you should probably watch this video. Ummm and he speaks french about 2/3 of the way through. Oui.
26 August 2010
23 August 2010
18 August 2010
little things
Lately, I've been writing on my left hand. Just a word or two or maybe even a short phrase per day. Something to get me through, something to glance at leaving me with that feeling of finally breathing out. "little things" is what it reads today. Simple yet powerful, reminding me that today will be nothing tomorrow. Mere blips. Everything in perspective, where it belongs. Tomorrow you will laugh about how silly today is. Today's mountains are tomorrow's molehills and so on, and so forth.
16 August 2010
12 August 2010
Remember when you said
Remember when you said "...a committed relationship where you can call me up after a rough day at work and vent..." Today is one of those days. I need you now. The stress of the day, allergic to change. Overwhelmingly uncomfortable. Told myself to "keep calm and carry on" fifty six times today. Those words penned onto my left hand as I type. A week gone by, one more to go. Funny how I said to myself just yesterday "this isnt that bad, we're so secure." Well what happened? Not on your end, but on mine. Missing that face. But today is today and tomorrow is the rest of our lives. Hold your center little girl. The weight of two thousand miles apart resting on my heart. Pressure. Good thing pressure makes diamonds.
11 August 2010
"Sir your book!"
I could never own a kindle. Well actually, I take that back...sure I could own one but I would never even turn it on, definitely not. It would probably become a place for candles to stand tall and burn on. Dont get me wrong, I am an avid reader but I need to avidly feel the pages, touch every word, become intoxicated by the smell. Books protected like children. Some unknown bond between me and them. My books are loved, underlined, dog-eared, folded, rolled, torn, worn. When I begin to drown myself in a book I need its presence always on me, even if its just to quickly glance at its binding. A needy relationship for sure, but I bet the book needs me just as I need it. I think I fall in love with the actual pages. Too good to put down, too hard to let go. I rarely lend books out unless I am as close to certain as possible that I will be getting them back. When the "as close to certain as possible" fails me, and my beloved book disappears for good, I feel like Im missing an extremity and I long for it. 
Today on the train, while I had a no-longer-meaningful mix blaring into my eardrums, the man across from me got up to get off and accidently forgot to take his book. Instinctivly I screamed "Sir your book!" Everyone on the packed, peak train turned and looked at me. Let's just say that the pitch of my scream of horror was because of my song in ear and from that my hearing balance was off. I literally shouted at the frail, mid-aged intellectual. And thats what I replied when the stares of other passengers kept coming "Sorry, I didnt realize how loudly I yelled." But the truth is, no matter if I was listening to Bach on the lowest setting, or Glassjaw turned all the way up, or simply the sound of the train against the tracks I probably [in splitsecondthoughts] thought that maybe this man was like me and needed, not wanted, his book.
Today on the train, while I had a no-longer-meaningful mix blaring into my eardrums, the man across from me got up to get off and accidently forgot to take his book. Instinctivly I screamed "Sir your book!" Everyone on the packed, peak train turned and looked at me. Let's just say that the pitch of my scream of horror was because of my song in ear and from that my hearing balance was off. I literally shouted at the frail, mid-aged intellectual. And thats what I replied when the stares of other passengers kept coming "Sorry, I didnt realize how loudly I yelled." But the truth is, no matter if I was listening to Bach on the lowest setting, or Glassjaw turned all the way up, or simply the sound of the train against the tracks I probably [in splitsecondthoughts] thought that maybe this man was like me and needed, not wanted, his book.
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