matters of the brain

what is easy and what is difficult
what is beautiful and what is hideous

“To each their own,” they say

interpretation, understanding, comprehension, opinion, perception

my father said to me:
“I would get so bored living in the city. There would be nothing for me to do there.”

I replied
“I would get so bored living in your small town. There would be nothing for me to do there.”

simple and layered.

it comes down to the whys, the whats, the stories and experiences of each and every person.

however, most of us just get the simple top layer of the story.

this is why we get confused or frustrated. Maybe if we just asked for the story, we could have a better understanding.

Two years and ten months

Two years and ten months ago, an early twenty-something lady moved to a neighborhood that she grew to call home. It was the first place in her twenty-three years of life where the feeling of longing to move away vanished. She was happy with her apartment. It was her first real grown-up living space with matching furniture and a full set of dishes.

The first few months she would become familiar with her surroundings, and go on walks here and there. She was in the city, but her neighborhood was truly a world of its own.

This lady grew here. She felt comfortable. She let go of insecurities. She fell in love. She even perfected her ability to parallel park.

In two years and ten months, relationships came and went, restaurants opened and closed. All of it was part of the normal flow of life. And with this flow, a move was in order.

The young lady is now crossing the river, a move only a few miles away. Yet she becomes reminiscent of her time spent in this neighborhood walking its sidewalks late at night admiring houses, laughing for hours with friends, loving people, shedding tears, and creating herself into the person she has always wanted to be.

Quietly

roasting coffee beans and a few blonde wood chairs

flesh soft and warm

covered in the sweet spring air

my head out the window

my feet on the seat

hold my hand

easy

amuse and humor me

pretend my fingers are soil

and yours are the roots of a great old tree

twisting and tangling all around

steady and secure

we can laugh and play pretend

while I give you unintentional winks

look at old photographs of strangers

holding stories of lives once lived

smiles and hardships

placed out on metal plates

give me more than your words

hold me, pinch me, drop me, lift me

just give me more than your words

kick me, squeeze me, lick me, carry me
just give me more than your words
part of it has faded, and no no, i am not jaded
i stood up

and here i stand

dot

dot

dot

standing

breathing

and really

dot

dot

dot

seeing

just give me more than your words

it makes a great story

During dinner conversation with one of my friends, we were discussing the things that happen to us in our lives. We decided that things happen to us that typically would only happen in a work of fiction, screenplay, etc.

And this is why hanging out with me and my friends is always an adventure in one way or another.

This happens though, because in a way, we make it happen. We are the ones who are in control of the movie that is our life.

Even if something seems like a typical day-to-day activity, I think we should all make it more of a moment or experience. Talk to a new person, try something you haven’t tried before, wear something that is a bit different, and get lost on purpose.

Think of the camera cues, or think of what the narrator might say.

Try to do things so you will be able to write a great story later.

heat plays with the mind

it has been crazy hot here in minneapolis/saint paul

and i can say that, because i feel that it has increased the crazy levels

last night i had a dream

it was in the later evening hours, and i was at a parade with a group of people. We came up to a man who had a little dog.


this dog was unlike any dog i've ever seen before

this dog was clear, and covered in ice. he almost looked like a live action ice sculpture. the dog was small and looked vaguely like Falcor from "The Neverending Story Movie."


I would pet the dog and feel the cold wet ice touch my hand and fall off of the little dog, so i could then feel his cool, wet, clear fur.


i continued to pet the dog, and help him remove the ice from his little body and legs.


once all the ice was removed, the dog blinked, licked my hand, tilted his head, and then i woke up.

we come here today in celebration

death
the big Good Bye

as i sat in the pew, i kept getting distracted from the creaking of the wood, and the white paint chipping on the frame of the window, and how the pink stained glass gave my skin a soft glow.

i always feel awkward in churches. so take that general awkwardness of being in church, add that to a memorial service for someone who has died, and put that all on top of the awkwardness that is me.

and so they came to tell the stories

precious

that was the word the pastor said many used to describe her, among others

and she was

and being in that church, hearing the stories, feeling the presence of all of those around me

i felt warm

and reminiscent

is this what faith is like? in the religious sense? where can one find this feeling without being in a church, or at a memorial service?

it is possible to find elsewhere, right?

sweet sweet goodness

my fruit of choice right now is....

mango

i'm addicted.

i encourage you all to go and eat mangoes now and all summer long

let the juice drip down your chins and forearms and get pulp strings in your teeth

sticky sweet goodness