as we tie and dye into each other

And then she realized she was living a dream, that her dreams were living her, her realities were her dreams, her dreams her reality, living in a world of self created ideologies, being awoken to a world of no control, everything a blur with moments of clarity aiding in the fuzziness, living life between the pixilations, moving from color to color, as dots come into our lives and pass through us, our reality briefly tinted with another’s’ hue, the shades always changing, the colors always mixing as we tie and die into each other, it is not until later that enough space is given from the small circles of proximity and we see a vague picture that comes out of focus as we step further and further back, until the pictures again become the dots of our passing moments and we are swimming through the empty space.
[written april 6, 2008]

the postman still has a job

sometimes i make and mail out postcards to various friends.

Yes! It's true! I still buy stamps, use a pen and ink to write, put my letters in the mailbox, and a day (or more! not a few seconds or more. shocking!) later it finally arrives at its destination (well, that is if all goes according to plan). These actions may sound foreign to some these days, and that saddens me but I hear that the post office workers have a pretty sweet package with benefits and other such perks and I wouldn't want their job to go extinct, for the sake of their benefits of course. So, you see, I am merely protecting the jobs at the post office, which I hear people have all out brawls in bars for, by continuing the strenuous task of physically writing letters.
you may message me your mailing address and I may just mail one to you!

here are some....

"I wonder if we are but shadows on the snow or if we are the bits of briefly twinkling light specs in the snow. Either way, with time we pass, fade, melt but oh how beautiful and magical it all is for an instant!"



"I'm in love with the idea of you"

why hug a tree when you could drink a forest?

When one finds oneself living in an urban environment devoid of trees and other such plentiful green vegetation, one may be brought into the very essence of a pine tree forest by simply drinking gin, and then most, if not all, of ones problems will be solved, as one is transported to the surroundings a lumberjack finds himself (or herself) in, just as a clear piney liquid coats ones throat, causes mayhem in ones liver, and impairs ones judgment. Ahhh, yes, to live among the trees once again! But be careful of splinters as you swallow.

[And yes, that first sentence could be considered a run-on sentence….but I find it’s better to run on in life, rather than stopping yourself short!]