dear dr.

i know it's been a long time, but i just wanted you to know that i thought of that conversation.... that promise you made me a couple years back... and was curious as to whether or not you were really up to holding your end of the bargain?

just so you know.... i've resigned myself to the realization i never even came close to my 5 year plan.

i was thinking that maybe i should extend that 5 year plan to a 10 year term and retire by base jumping off the empire state building without a bungee cord?

mmmm.... the possibilities.....

what do you think?
it's been too long.
i await your reply.

sincerely,
e

this type love.

I never thought I’d be one.
Always waiting in inhalations... exhalations being something of a dream.
A lofty notion, conjuring up images of multidimensional mirrors dancing in a space of multicolored dimensions.
But it is there. And you are here.
And so it is.

500 Days: Momentary Thoughts

.... that the pain experienced in Spring and the loss of the Summer were worth finding the Fall.

that i can live in progression of autumn. content, warm...

in the vast colors abiding. abating winter. for all of my days.

thoughts before work.

The drive went much faster than I would have hoped.
Or maybe the daydreaming went a little longer than I expected.
I cried a little today.
Hit with the realization that this was real and that I should be content for myself. Maybe.
I cried because I realized where I’ve been, where I am now…. and I could not help but feel an immense sense of happiness and loss.
Happiness for what I have, for what I could lose.
Then again....
It’s all a blur. Words and thoughts scrambled together to make incoherent patterns.
Nascent melodies that will one day form a song.
A song in a space that I share with him.
Beyond the fantasies of warm beds, whispers, and cool breezes.
Closer to what we used to call pretend.
My space. His House. Our home.
One day. Maybe today.
Maybe.

tom's diner

I saw your book today.
Recalling the crisp the days of winter.
of eating notes in a diner, and reading sighs off of our
runny eggs and coffee.
I remember what it felt like to drink your pages one by one.
As if each sip was made just for me.

Then again, I always knew I was never
special enough to be admired your world.
No dedication, introduction, or prologue in prose.
Never meant to be more than a
segue or stepping stone into a
greater unknown.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t
me,
maybe it was you.

free association.

"what do you think about when you recall last year?"

regression.

what it would be like to drown instantaneously.
metaphorically not literally.
restricted to the point where i could feel my endorphins rush and my heart flutter.
to feel the tightness of breath illicit a seizure....
powerful enough to create a proverbial collapse
lungs empty. body full.
loud enough recall a distant ache.
subtle.
and yet, something i still miss from time to time.

freedom.

choices.

sensations
remembering what that felt like?
what i feel like?

the dark.
the motion.
the reaction of force across my face. firm and yet not to the point of stinging.
but painful enough to wake me from my neurosis.

headaches
hands carrying boxes. springs dancing still. heels caressing the heart.
his head.
hangovers.

the ocean.
the smells and sounds resonating across a cylindrical space.
confined to dark corners and squares.

pressed up against tables. chairs. car windows.
knees sliding, skating along wooden floors.
keys.
rug burns on bed sheets.

sunbaths
pink and black stripes.
tendrils being pulled taut.

sangria kisses.
sunburn.
driving down the coast on a cloud.

connection.
subtraction: how loss always seems to fall into addition
silence
sound.

true love.
forgiveness.
hope.

Rummaging: Finding the New Value in Old Things.

so i've been rummaging. sneaking.

sorting through other peoples pasts: garage sales, vintage stores... manicured lawns, dirt roads, vacant alley ways.

lives that were never meant to belong to me... now shared by the desperate and indifferent.

here i am at my most voyeuristic... vicariously living... gaining through the loss of others.
there is something that (for as long as i can remember) has excited me about gaining insight into things that were never my business to know.

like collecting pieces to a hidden puzzle.

places like this enable a healthy outlet for what can sometimes be considered a somewhat perverse predilection.

but lately i've been thinking.... and thinking has always opened up doors that lead to more answers, which ultimately lead to more unanswered questions... and i can't help but feel melancholy at the thought of this.

it makes me wonder about all the things i don't know... all the things i'll never know...

and potentially how maybe no one ever really shares it all.

all of their belongings... all of themselves.

though the objects once belonging to someone else are now mine.... i am still just as perplexed as i was before i acquired my new found things.

i wonder... are these things less valuable if it didn't belong to me first. or second. or third?

then again, maybe it was supposed to pass hands. maybe it was meant for me. or maybe i'm meant to pass it on to someone else.

maybe i'm never really meant to own anything.

maybe moments, like relationships, experiences or objects... are like seasons. never static.... transitory. always changing.

and if that's true... for as much as we value the things around us. the notion of how things are inherently fleeting makes it all feel a bit lonely....
a bit bleak.
as if there will always be a gradual end...
or progression into something else.
maybe something better.
better than good.

maybe.

one can only hope.