I saw my love this weekend. I felt the contours of his face and tasted the subtle nuances of his lips. I stroked the gentle hairs that tickle his chin and grasped his hand tightly as I stared, wide-eyed with fascination and fear, at every new experience that I will soon be forced to encounter. I think it was the fright that made me so painfully ( Read more... )

I've never known the park to be so devoid of human clamor ( Read more... )

I changed all of my life plans last night as I was struggling to fall asleep. I attribute it to a few soulful songs and too much asiago cheese bread. It was a pretty enjoyable experience.

Sometimes I feel like others have grown up and I've stayed the same, and sometimes it's the other way around. I can't decide if I prefer the world of lordly demeanors and apathy towards all those passions that used to mean so much or the juvenile delights of a few blades of grass. I emersed myself in Life today for the first time in ages, and ( Read more... )

There's a moment ( Read more... )

My life is being measured from each click of the lever on the passenger seat in the almost dusk air to each strand of slightly curling hair on your cheek; from the spilling of seeds and childhood memories to the sharing of noodles and cones that drip down our already sticky fingers; from my bare legs tickled by the grass and all its hidden life to ( Read more... )

"I think that is the big danger in keeping a diary: you exaggerate everything. You continually force the truth because you're always looking for something." -- Jean-Paul Sartre

Just keep that in mind as a disclaimer.

As much as I enjoy the above quote, I don't know if it was a good idea to begin Nausea when so many odd thoughts are already ( Read more... )

I've been busy living lately and haven't wanted to pause to record anything; words are so much less substantial than flesh and there are so few breaths left between us. I'm sure when I am feeling hollow in the coming heartbeats, however, I will regret the lack of even darkly colored strings of letters, somber Christmas lights strung above my ( Read more... )

As the countdown continues to what all the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Aryan children are trying to tell me will be the best year of my life, via brightly colored t-shirts, cheap keychains, and milkshakes, the conviction that there is nothing here for me deepens. As I told a certain apostle, I've done everything worth doing, met everyone worth ( Read more... )

I've been desperate of late to capture on film the trembling of my hands and the color of your hair as the sun dribbles down to it through layers of green (the thin and crumbling parchment to which I dictate my soul's desires ((and yes, I have a soul, lover, I have a burning aching enormous soul that cannot be satisfied by anything, not even ( Read more... )