i run my fingers through the grooves when no one’s around.

The song that this mini documentary starts with used to make me cry.

Then it didn’t for a long, long time.  I didn’t care.  I didn’t really listen to it anymore.

Then, tonight, it made me cry again.

I think Jacksonville City Nights was my favorite album for some time.

Funny how favorites fade… and then maybe come back for a whole second.

[happy september.]

i should mention…

I woke up this morning.

Outside it should’ve been bright… but it wasn’t… it was dark and alive.

Then the rain came.  So, I quickly made a playlist consisting of some of my favorite rainy day songs…

…and starting reading my book.

It was a peace of comfort.

Then, [partly because i’m addicted to the internet and partly because i’m waiting for this silly screen to tell me my future], I checked my email.

An email from my father.  [these rarely happen, but when they do, they’re either hilarious or blindingly thoughtful… this was the latter.]

It started with, “Preface: A Letter from a Father to his Daughter”

I read and read and just started bawling.

“Because of you, I am a successful man because Love is the measure of worth & nothing else matters.”

In bed, wrapped up in down, Sufjan Stevens playing, it started hailing [hailing hard] and my cheeks were streaming with love.

I can’t help but share.  I want there to be more recognition of the success of love within us all… in me… in this.

The day went on… the rain stayed pretty steady throughout the day… which was fine because I packed all day… ’tis moving time.

Okay, I didn’t pack all day… I had brunch with a friend.  She went to the bathroom as we were leaving our brunch destination and asked me…

– Do you ever get an overwhelming fear of getting locked in a bathroom?

I laughed out loud as I remembered this story:  WHY DID YOU LOCK THE DOOR??

Oh, good times… or, funny times at least.

The aforementioned friend came over to try on clothes of mine that I was purging in honor of the recent move.

I sat on the floor of my living room that contained most of my material life in it while she fashioned outfit after outfit.  I drank my coffee and read Billy Collins in between all the “oohhhh”s and “ahhhh”s.

We giggled to ourselves as I read aloud…


My favorite time to write is in the late afternoon,
weekdays, particularly Wednesdays.
This is how I go about it:
I take a fresh pot of tea into my study and close the door.
Then I remove my clothes and leave them in a pile
as if I had melted to death and my legacy consisted of only
a white shirt, a pair of pants, and a pot of cold tea.

Then I remove my flesh and hang it over a chair.
I slide it off my bones like a silken garment.
I do this so that what I write will be pure,
completely rinsed of the carnal,
uncontaminated by the preoccupations of the body.

Finally I remove each of my organs and arrange them
on a small table near the window.
I do not want to hear their ancient rhythms
when I am trying to tap out my own drumbeat.

Now I sit down at the desk, ready to begin.
I am entirely pure: nothing but a skeleton at a typewriter.

I should mention that sometimes I leave my penis on.
I find it difficult to ignore the temptation.
Then I am a skeleton with a penis at a typewriter.

In this condition I write extraordinary love poems,
most of them exploiting the connection between sex and death.

I am concentration itself: I exist in a universe
where there is nothing but sex, death, and typewriting.

After a spell of this I remove my penis too.
Then I am all skull and bones typing into the afternoon.
Just the absolute essentials, no flounces.
Now I write only about death, most classical of themes
in language light as the air between my ribs.

Afterward, I reward myself by going for a drive at sunset.
I replace my organs and slip back into my flesh
and clothes. Then I back the car out of the garage
and speed through woods on winding country roads,
passing stone walls, farmhouses, and frozen ponds,
all perfectly arranged like words in a famous sonnet.


I’ll never be able to get over that one line, “I should mention that sometimes I leave my penis on.”

“I should mention…”  haha… so amazing.

And then I remembered what a love sent me some days back…

Oh, please let my children [in the event that they ever exist] recite Billy.  I’m sure they’ll sing bad pop songs and maybe even talk smack about monsters…

…but please PLEASE let them recite Billy.

they seem wild.

I promised to put these up, like, forever ago.

The first one, I woke up, freaked out, biked to the station, pulled about twenty CDs off the shelf, played music that my super hip music directors recommended on their recent emails.  I was unprepared… and the show ruled.  So, if you find some amazing new music, you can thank the KHOL directors.


Fur Realz Favorites:

i love you, dabz! we'll miss you so so much!

i think i wanna live my life.

Yesterday, I stared at a computer… almost literally all day.

I finally left the apartment to get Thai food at around 9:30.  [which, p.s., tasted like corndogs.]

It was funny.  I was doing work.  Working.  [okay, yes… facebooking and gazing at beautifulness as well.]  But, mostly working.

And I like outside.  I do… but I didn’t really want to go outside.  I knew what I had to get done and I just sat there [cup of coffee after cup of coffee] and did it… with little desire to go out.  Most of my fellow Jacksonites would not understand, would call me crazy.  [p.s. i am a bit crazy.]

I listened to this song… [a bit ironically]…

…over and over.

[it be my new fave.]

Then, this morning, with the heavy fog everywhere, the song rang in my head.

It made sense.

I really wanted to go outside.  I wanted to walk around, listen to good music, hit up antique stores, wear layer over layer and let the day take me where it could.

Find beauty.  [not in the mountains… where most people find it here.]

I wanted to find it out in people, in smiles, in meeting, in conversation.

I wanted to go outside.

“the crane really brings out your eyes.”

I saw 500 Days of Summer about a year ago.

I love it.  And I’m not sorry.  I rented it a couple day ago and have probably watched it at least four times since.

It’s such a real, creative, honest story about boy meets girl.

It’s about the good times…

The those times…

The hard times…

And about break-ups.

Real break-ups, though.  For reasons that aren’t real… those that are completely illogical… which, a lot are.

And then things don’t work out… they just don’t.  There’s heartbreak.  There’s pain.  Pain.  Depression.  Pain.  Loneliness.  But, then, guess what?

It still doesn’t work out.

My favorite part is the Expectations/Reality part…

I laugh at my formal self in embarrassed recognition.

And I love how the film talks about the hardness of love.  The unknowing.  The fate vs. fate is bullshit argument.

T: You never wanted to be someone’s girlfriend and now you’re somebody’s wife.

S: Surprised me too.

T: I don’t think I’ll ever understand that.  I mean it doesn’t make sense.

S: It just happened.

T: Right that’s what I don’t understand.  What just happened?

S: I just woke up one day and I knew.

T: Knew what?

S: ….What I was never sure of with you.

T: ….You know what sucks?  That everything you believe in is complete and utter bullshit.  It sucks.  You know, destiny, soul mates, true love and all that childhood fairytale, none sense.  You were right.  I should have listened to you.

S: I guess it’s because I was sitting in a deli and reading Dorian Grey and a guy comes up to me and asks me about it.  And now he is my husband. So what if I’ve gone to the movies?  What if I had gone somewhere else for lunch? What if I’d gotten there ten minutes later?  It was meant to be and I just kept thinking… Tom was right.

Is it meant to be?  Is anything meant to be?  Is there true love out there?  Soul mates?

Or are we searching so hard for it, we convince ourselves of loves of our lives?  It’s a painful argument.  I’ve come up with a theory…

The people who believe in true love are the one’s who have found it.  And if you do believe in soul mates and you’re not in love, you’ve never had your heart really broken… the rug pulled out from under you.

It’s a pretty solid theory, I believe.  I’m not being a downer or anything… I know that people are in love and that makes them thrive more than even the oxygen they breathe.  I just also know that I don’t know about the whole thing.  And that’s okay.

What do I know?

…that I smiled like a middle school girl making green salsa tonight.

…that I am so grateful for the beer brought over to help celebrate the last addition of my pint glasses… to complete the collection.

…that the excitement of drinking out of bike glasses and “you wanna watch this movie again for a bit?” is totally understood.

…working [and working hard] with a love studying [and studying hard] in the next room is a comfort you cannot fake.

…i will not stop loving this song:

…i will always wanna dance to this song:

…things will WILL be okay.  [nay, they will be great.]

…that if there’s an art opening just two doors down with amazing local art, incredible DJs, beautiful people, custom-made animal headbands and AND a cute boy wants to go, you go:

All this to say, I know happiness.


I don’t know about true love.  But I know about smiling. Maybe if you believe in happiness hard enough, you’ll convince yourself it’s happening… oh, I don’t know.  Maybe it’s different.  Ohp, gotta go… it’s knocking at the door.

Hello, old friend.  Come in and have a drink.  I’ll let you have the green bike glass.

excuse me…

This blahg post is purely to remember/share the randomness/beauty of yesterday.


I’ve been riding my dad’s old Schwinn Varsity around.  It’s an emerald green ten-speed and I LOVE it.  My dad loves it too.  He talks about how dear it is to his heart and how if I don’t lock it up and it gets stolen, I will more than likely be disowned.

Yesterday, I rolled up to a café to have some brunch and eat outside.  When I went to go sit out on the deck, an old, white-haired man spoke to me…

– Excuse me… Is that your green Schwinn Varsity out there?

– Oh, yeah.

– Wow.  When I was a little boy, I wanted that bike SO badly.  It was THE bike.

– Awww… Yeah, it was my dad’s, a gift from his mother when he graduated high school.  He treasures it.

– Your father was a lucky kid.  That was a $70 bike and we were not a $70 bike family.  I was obsessed with getting one, though.  I saved and saved.  It took me an eternity to save $30.  When I told my mom that I had saved $30, I hoped maybe she’d be proud and help me out with the rest.  But, instead, she told me, “Well, now you can buy a $30 bike.”  I never got a Schwinn Varsity.

My goodness, I almost cried.  I almost just said, “You can have mine!  No, go for it… Take it!  You should have it.”  [don’t worry, pops, i didn’t.]

Instead we eventually dismissed ourselves from the conversation and went about eating respective brunches.  A bit later, I saw him get up to leave.  He walked away with a limp of dusty volumes and a cane I hadn’t noticed before.  He paused as he walked past my bike and gave it a good, long look of admiration before leaving it.

I cried.  Wow.  I cried.


We had a bike-in movie last night to support KHOL, the radio station I volunteer with.  I went out to help set up for the event in any way I could.

The venue was a local hiking mountain that gets plenty of use by all kinds of walks.

When I arrived to help, I was immediately put on dooty duty… which was totally fine.  I walked around and picked up dog shit that I’m sure pup owners just forgot to pick up.  I was walking back and forth when all the sudden I heard…

– Excuse me, miss.

– Yes?

– I just wanted to tell you that you are God’s gift to humanity.

– Ummmm…. Thank you?

– Not many people would be out here doing what you’re doing with a smile on their face.

[am i smiling?]

– Ha, well, just trying to help out.

– Someone should marry you right now.

– Ohp, okay… I gotta get back to poo.

– Hell, if I found someone half as great as you, I’d propose right now.

And that’s when I got so uncomfortable I just turned around and half mumbled, half replied…

– Okay, now I feel too awkward, bye, thank you, have a good hike, bye, eeeerrr…


Again, with the bike.  I was walking my bike on a sidewalk yesterday when a family passed.

A little girl, probably about five years old, stopped as we passed each other.  Her family kept on walking, but she stopped in her tracks and asked me…

– Do you have a flat tire?

– Oh, I don’t know… Do I?

Looking at the bike in oh-no surprise, I was pleased to find no flat.  So, I asked her…

– Do you think I have a flat tire?

She evaluated, looked up and down, then said, with authority…

– No, I don’t.

…and turned on a dime and walked quickly to catch up with her family.

– Okay, cool.

And I continued my direction.


‘Twas a glorious day of stranger interaction.  I love it.