I lost your sight in the deep dark light.

Take this reaction and throw it outside. Remember to erase it's name and bury the limbs in the sand.

Do everything you can to forget your heart.

There is neither need nor want in the shallow palms of two hands disconnected by speech that never formed.
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Song of the second: Gimme Little Sign by Brenton Wood
Book of the moment: Outliers by Malcom Gladwell
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Location: Chicago, Illinois
Date: Spring 2010
Notes:

Three shadows passed above me as I stood below the bridge. The dust that sparkled with radiance of street light and lost cause filled my nose. It seemed that tonight she had been taken by surprise, nothing more than a paper bag filled with static eyes. I had become used to the feeling of no control, knowing that she would never take a turn toward my avenue...never would she think my name and want to see me in the same flash of memory. After this reaction of honesty, I walked down a sidewalk that had been cast so many years ago it would take five hands to count them out. Floating above this concrete nostalgia all I could imagine was endless time bundled with a thousand smiles that never gave up the hope of that single second of silent sound.

...thoughts rang loud in a head filled with water stung ears...


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Location: Chicago, Illinois
Date: Spring 2010
Notes:

Before the explosion, the bricks sat in the same space for thirty years. There was never a thought of flying from the circle of permanence, this spot that was held together stronger than an arm wrestler. Pebbles would never speak badly of the horizontal stone they sat between and surely they would not think about interrupting the pattern.



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"An intellectual is a man who says a simple thing in a difficult way; an artist is a man who says a difficult thing in a simple way."
~Charles Bukowski
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shake the sun awake.

White pastels laid in the background as lines blurred together to form the smoothest transitions. I had seen moments through a lens that when my eye pushed back and looked into reality things seemed just slightly different, slightly altered. Everything was still there in the same point of light it had been roughly three seconds earlier. Nothing had changed or disappeared; yet, I knew it wasn’t the same. There seems to be a collapse as your elbows bend towards your ribs and you try and hold the box as steady as possible, with any movement resulting in a haze of rhythm.

All there is are vibrations. Grab them with open palms and find them in everything you do, see, hear, feel, and breathe. This won’t last long and you will realize it far to late.

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Song of the second: Firecracker by Steel Train
Book of the moment: Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut
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Location: Chicago, Illinois
Date: Summer 2010
Notes:

I leaned out my window yesterday, my elbow propping me as my weight collapsed onto the ledge. The air, moving over my hands and climbing towards my shoulder, seemed to shift in zigzags as if to say the storm would be here soon. The siren outside told me there were only minutes until it would be night at two in the afternoon. The thunder spread through the sky like a flower peeling open for the first time. Before I realized it was raining the beads were already racing down my forehead waiting to jump of the cliff of my chin.

The initial warning came about ten minutes after I woke up to another commercial on the television. It was the type of warning that shutdown every channel so no matter how vigorously you pressed the next button the only thing to change was the number in the top right corner. There was a moment where I saw tree's press their branches close together and tighten all the leaves that lay attached as if they were eyelashes guarding against wild sand. A smile came over my face and for the first time I felt excited.

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Location: Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Date: Summer 2010
Notes:

Where did the list go that you made when you were twelve? It had all the things you wanted to accomplish. All the things you wanted to do. My list is buried in a backyard I can no longer find. I can’t say with much certainty that anything on the list was ever accomplished, though, I think that was the point of the whole thing. If you think there is only one paved road to go down then grip the steering wheel and turn your knuckles white as you cannonball through the guardrail. There is no path, only the many different directions you decide to go.

Break through, break free, break out…and just go.


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"The masterpiece should appear as the flower to the painter.. perfect in its bud as in its bloom.. with no reason to explain its presence.. no mission to fulfill.. a joy to the artist, a delusion to the philanthropist.. a puzzle to the botanist.. an accident of sentiment and alliteration to the literary man."
~James McNeill Whistler
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