I get teary-eyed this morning at the coffeehouse, sitting out back on the deck; looking out over an abandoned lot, grown over, Ballard's sunday farmers market stretching far in each direction. It's cold out this morning with the trees already burning bright yellow, a grey, muted sky hanging overhead. I listen to Blue Scholars and allow myself to be ( Read more... )

I did the math this morning and it does not look good. But then, the optimism is there, the hope ( Read more... )

I still have nightmares about him. Many of them occur when I am at the edge of waking, when my mind is pliable and foolish- the sweet and dangerous underbelly. In these scenarios he is always dead or dying. But unlike a horror film which would detail this act of dying graphically, what I experience is just this immense absence. This sadness that I ( Read more... )

It doesn't have anything to do with being a certain something or not being a certain something. I think it's more about doing what makes one happy.

"You can have her," he said, or so the story goes; discarded like a piece of rotten meat. The comment stung more-so because it came second hand. There was no response, no opportunity for self defense ( Read more... )

Like nothing else. Like something complete.

Out of nowhere this morning I called Godspeed Couriers in SF and gave them my contact info.
No, I take it back, it's not out of nowhere, it's out of the deepest part of my brain. That's the part that doesn't think, just does.


( Read more... )

Why did I stop? I don't remember ( Read more... )

Tomorrow will be the thirteenth day in a row that I've worked, some days two jobs. Ripped something in the left calf or maybe just badly bruised, hard to tell, but I just keep riding on and on, possessed ( Read more... )

This morning I bought a copy of "The Fountainhead" on his recommendation. He told me, last night while we were tangled with one another, that he considered it one of his favorites ( Read more... )