The screens are up again, I feel connected to my surroundings. The shutters are open and the breeze blows around. I have felt spectacular lately, alive and creative and filled with music, the air thick with possibilty, with ideas and spirits.
Sarah and I went camping over the weekend, to the Dunes Nat'l Lakeshore. I took a hike into the gray spring twilight on Saturday and felt it like I did when I was younger, when the world was smaller and I needed nothing but that was everything. Something about moving my feet and not knowing where I'm going to end up. Every hike is a beginning, and if you're not beginning, you're looking back at the easily manipulated past and changing it to fit your current bent, so that good memories can sour. So I always try to begin, look forward, to the near future which is exclusively relevant. For so long I've looked back. I will again. But today, Tuesday, I am looking forward.
The somnabulent (and it means sleepwalking, droning - and I can use it here) hum of the fan, the thin and sweetly melodic song of the spring peeper frogs, the smell of freshly mowed grass, it just all feels so right. Fuck, you know. I am just overwhelmed. I keep repeating myself, I know, but in the hope that somebody new is listening each time, or maybe somebody old is listening for the first time.
I wish my brother were here. He and I used to feel that same connection, that unspoken connection, as sombre as church, as beautiful as conversion. We'd walk side by side for hours, before the weight came between us and our roads diverged. I realized last night how much I missed him. I miss a lot of my past, the past that springs up in the dizzy halfsleep and jolts you awake. Old friends lost in the folds of time. And all we have are easily manipulated memories, so we look forward, like I am today.
Adam, forgive me for borrowing your idea again, but a very special badass du jour goes out to my friend Cynthia who worked on a paper last week until 5 in the morning. She finished up and then went into the hospital to have a baby. Cynthia, you are fucking awesome, and I know that Felicity Elizabeth is as well.
Sarah and I went camping over the weekend, to the Dunes Nat'l Lakeshore. I took a hike into the gray spring twilight on Saturday and felt it like I did when I was younger, when the world was smaller and I needed nothing but that was everything. Something about moving my feet and not knowing where I'm going to end up. Every hike is a beginning, and if you're not beginning, you're looking back at the easily manipulated past and changing it to fit your current bent, so that good memories can sour. So I always try to begin, look forward, to the near future which is exclusively relevant. For so long I've looked back. I will again. But today, Tuesday, I am looking forward.
The somnabulent (and it means sleepwalking, droning - and I can use it here) hum of the fan, the thin and sweetly melodic song of the spring peeper frogs, the smell of freshly mowed grass, it just all feels so right. Fuck, you know. I am just overwhelmed. I keep repeating myself, I know, but in the hope that somebody new is listening each time, or maybe somebody old is listening for the first time.
I wish my brother were here. He and I used to feel that same connection, that unspoken connection, as sombre as church, as beautiful as conversion. We'd walk side by side for hours, before the weight came between us and our roads diverged. I realized last night how much I missed him. I miss a lot of my past, the past that springs up in the dizzy halfsleep and jolts you awake. Old friends lost in the folds of time. And all we have are easily manipulated memories, so we look forward, like I am today.
Adam, forgive me for borrowing your idea again, but a very special badass du jour goes out to my friend Cynthia who worked on a paper last week until 5 in the morning. She finished up and then went into the hospital to have a baby. Cynthia, you are fucking awesome, and I know that Felicity Elizabeth is as well.
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