January 2010
1 post
slug trails
it’s that kind of night where the moon hangs low in the sky and slug trails glisten on the pavement like garland sprinkled across the sidewalk. the path of least resistance shimmering in the moonlight. i stop to watch them if their leaf colored bodies catch my eye, as they move through the darkness; a slow motion display of elegance, leaving behind only mere traces of themselves which...
March 2009
1 post
i'm so full of love, it deeply sickens me.
i’m letting things happen naturally, hoping something will grow organically for once. not forced, but patient, calm, evolving. i know it will be worth the wait. until then, there’s so much waiting for me to discover around every corner: art, literature, meaning, ideas, beauty, myself—over and over. and her, a delicate flower on a separate path, growing and waiting for our...
February 2009
5 posts
“The meaning of my thoughts started to float away from me, like leaves that fall...”
– jonathan safran foer, extremely loud & incredibly close
life's a constantly changing sea and i'm just...
it’s hard to accept that once lovers can turn into distant strangers in a matter of weeks, days, even seconds. that someone you once held so close that you weren’t sure where they ended and you began can suddenly be eons away, fizzling out like a shooting star in a foreign sky. the touch of their skin to yours, their face so close up that you memorize every line, every curve. it all...
dream scene
i watch as the sun rises beyond the snow covered mountains, wisps of fog drifting up toward the sky. everything is calm, everything is divine. i watch the pink sun paint the sky, the clouds, the snow. i don’t make a sound. i revel in the beauty before me, for it is mine forever. i long to share this moment of joy with no one, and for that i will not apologize. these are my hills, this is my...
brooklyn happens.
small piles of glass from my shattered window sit on the sidewalk in bed-stuy, telling the timeless story of destruction. the viper alarm system sticker holds together a few broken shards in irony. miniscule glass flakes stick to my clothes, reminding me that nothing is permanent, not even a window. now i’m driving on the highway, an oddly warm january breeze blowing through my nonexistent...
January 2009
23 posts
kings of leon - closer
song of the week.
“it should not be denied….that being footloose has always exhilarated us....”
– wallace stegner
connections [abridged]
me: i'll have a grande mocha.
starbucks barista: are you from denmark?
me: no...
starbucks barista: oh.
me: why? i've never gotten that before.
starbucks barista: you remind me of someone i knew once... is that your journal?
me: yes it is.
starbucks barista: do you draw in it?
me: sometimes. i mostly just write stuff.
starbucks barista: i have a journal too. i like to write.
me: that's awesome. i like to write too. what do you write?
starbucks barista: my thoughts, my feelings, my surroundings. i like to describe what's right in front of me.
me: welcome to my life.
snow daze.
salt sticks to the soles of my shoes and crunches on the dirty sidewalk. everything is turning white today. snow is sticking to my eyelashes, stinging my tired eyes. i hate the winter and i hate the cold, but i secretly love when it snows. everything is cloaked under a blanket of flaky white crystals, and for a moment in time i forget all that grime underneath; the once familiar world becomes...
music is like making love.
dark bar on the lower east side, band making the whole room twitch with admiration, anticipation. the accordion player rocks with his instrument, grandiosely bouncing back and forth in his seat. watching him play feels slightly voyeuristic, as if I’m watching an intimate act between two lovers. he’s wooing it, dancing with it, gently earning its trust. it’s like watching the greatest love story...
“I was always scribbling on little pads I carried around, jotting down ideas,...”
– Anatole Broyard, Kafka Was The Rage
I used my fingers to trace the outline of her body, the softness of her face. I held her cheeks in my hands and stared unabashed into her eyes. For the first time in my life, I felt transparent, like she could see into my soul; a place no wanderer had ever gone. I was young and innocent; not tired, weary and scarred by love. We both were. We should have heeded the warning signs that...
Pelagic: adj. Of or pertaining to the seas or...
there’s something inherently soothing about the ocean. its rough, dark, deep nature is overshadowed by its calming, cleansing, seductive allure. it calls to me, some days more than others, some oceans stronger than the one before. it asks me to surrender myself, give my mind and body over to its diabolic nature. to and fro, in and out, ebb and flow. mostly i resist, but when i feel the need...
“The sea’s only gifts are harsh blows, and occasionally the chance to feel...”
– into the wild, chris mccandless.
I'm unsure.
Perhaps by some chance of fate, I stumbled across this site and clicked on a link to create my own page. I’m not quite sure what the point is, although, most of the social networking sites on this vast interweb are quite pointless and a waste of time. Yet here I am, cheating on my Twitter account with this intriging layout and ability to type more than 140 characters. Fascinating.