Friday, June 08, 2018


I fell out of the habit again,  but it's more like words are mush in my mind and I can't get them to string together properly to capture the moments and the feelings and the spaces I want to capture.

The heartleaping joy of trying to figure out how to navigate new connections.

The crushing depths of unhappy news that I have no ability to control or influence.

The minor success.

The minor random strangeness that comes and goes in my life.

And without the documentation it is all missed and it all disappears into a memory chute that only occasionally activates when I have the chance to tell a story one more time. It is a bad habit to fall into.

There has been travel and there are stories there.

There is the weird and the wondrous and the woefully ominous, and the augury that makes me want to know what is coming, and the fear that makes me want to hold carefully back.

I have been busy.

I have been lazy.

I have been lost.

I have been found.

I have solidify through silence a love that is so deep and powerful and overwhelming that silence became a deafening blackness bringing clarity to everything.

There has been clarity.

There has been unfocused madness.

And then there is just me still swimming.

Sometimes it's the little things, the quick rambling action that helps to kick start everything else.

And so.


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