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09/01 Direct Link
I've made it through two batches already. College is starting again. I know it's gonna take some effort to remember to write.

Damn.

I miss the peaceful days of summer when I had no worries. Work during the day, relaxation and writing every night.

But the heat is unbearable. I cannot stand to sweat just sitting. So I long for fall and the cold it will bring.

Up in Northern Michigan I am looking forward to the snow. Feet upon feet of pure snow. The key to my prison cell, snow will set me free.
It can't come fast enough.
09/02 Direct Link
I'm an image hunter. Browsing the world for visuals that speak to me. In all mediums. Upon a digitized card, an LCD screen, or matte print. I long for that one picture that will complete me. The one image that will speak to my soul. Where else will I find meaning? Words are close. But they always leave a space. A hole. Something missing. So I search for the perfect picture. One that I will never get tired of looking at.

I have yet to find it. And I am scared that when I do, it will be of you.
09/03 Direct Link
My wish came true. Yesterday the rain came. I've been yearning all summer for it. I traveled to heaven and it came. A torrential attack upon the town. Everyone else ran. I reveled. Ecstatic does not describe it.

We drove to the breakers and I was awestruck. 15-20 foot rollers coming down upon the rock wall. The lighthouse was a mouse in comparison.

And we danced. Like school children in sprinklers we danced in the fury of Lake Superior. What a perfect change after the summer of hell.

It was great to see that the world was still alive.
09/04 Direct Link
Three day weekend. Looking forward to the Monday off. Minnesota next weekend. Birthday in between.

Fuck.

I don't want to turn nineteen.
I don't want to grow up.

Why can't I just be like Calvin and stay six for ten years?

Why can't I just enjoy the wonders of innocence instead of learning that words like pain and tears exist?

Why?

And once we do hit this plateau. This knowledge that the world is not so peaceful. When do we accept it? When can I lay back and just accept that nothing will ever be as it was?

Nineteen.

Fuck.
09/05 Direct Link
Today we jumped dirt bikes over a bonfire (livened up by random splashes of gasoline) at the sands in the Northern Keweenaw. It's great hanging with the good ole' boys. The accents and the booze and the fun ran free. What a wonderful relief from the drone of incomprehensible professors.

Yet at the end of the day, I am exhausted. The introvert in me can't take the crowd for long. Even when it's only 15 or so. With mumbled excuses and a hasty escape, I'm finally alone.

Silence. Rest.

Then the phone call.

The perfect end to an eventful day.

09/06 Direct Link
That song played again today. The one that reminds me of you. Don't ask me how. It just does. And it's rare that I hear it. It being not that popular and all. But still. It made me think of you. I wish that was worth something. I wish that every time I thought of you it was because you were beside me. If that were possible you'd never leave. But doesn't absence make it all better once dreams are realized? If it were so easy I'd have a dozen wishing wells. And 11:11 wouldn't be just twice a day.
09/07 Direct Link

The bag was taken out of the box and promptly christened. The box tossed aside, forgotten, unneeded. Used, hit, and passed. They all took a turn as it travelled the circle. Resounding smacks echoed around the room. Hardly interrupting the loud, drunken remarks of those gathered.

The ice in my glass annoyed my lips. Sips and gulps depending on the mood. The amber liquid classier than those twisting the bag around and around.

Quiet in the corner, amused by the alcohol fueled antics in front of me. Time, my eyelids, and the whiskey fights against me.

I finally have relief.

09/08 Direct Link
I can't seem to lie. This truth cannot be disguised. I've come to realize that I'm a victim of your eyes. Piercing and searching my soul. They hold me captive. Hold me slow. When you look at me I've nowhere else to go but straight into your arms. Unguarded, raw, open to harm. That gaze lowers the gates. With every look you create another path to my heart.

Brush your bangs aside. Never try to hide those unforgettable eyes.

Open your eyes at the world around you.
Open them wide and smile.

You'll find that everything will open for you.
09/09 Direct Link
Precarious was an understatement. The situation toppled on intense. Emotions overflowing, nothing you said made sense.

I tried to block you out. I tried to run away. But you grabbed my arm and made me stay.

I detest you for it.

I should have ran. I should have fled. If Wells' book existed, everything would be fixed. But I stayed and the world shattered. Who knew one simple decision would matter?

Your words flew hard. Breaking through walls and killing us all. Questions sent in darkness. Flaming missiles speeding towards me.

Who knew something so small could hurt so much?

09/10 Direct Link
I vaulted up these stairs. Slipping and sliding to the top. Skinned knees and hasty apologies apparent upon first glance. Words came spilling out of me as fast as thoughts could flow.  Your hard shell melted away. The door slowly changed from showing a crack to open wide. A smile and a hug later, you finally led me inside.

The coffee steamed in contrast to the snow out the window. We sat quietly listening to British radio in the kitchen. Truths dealt out on the table. No more secrets.

Let's hope the second time around we'll do things right.
09/11 Direct Link
You burst in and I try to hide my loose change. It's not just a memory. You've dealt me this reality. What is strange is that I still allow it. The drop is only three floors but the chairs below seem so small. The nickels and dimes rain upon unsuspecting heads. Hitting hard, bouncing to the ground.

Shouting becomes the norm in the bay down below. We run and hide in the halls long corridors.

Who knew a contribution from a major chemical company would become a playground?

The floor is lava is more intense when played by college students.

09/12 Direct Link
Yesterday we met in a dream. Yours or mine, I don't know. Maybe both combined. Tomorrows uncertain. We might miss our cue. But today is ours. I have you in my arms. Breakfast in bed. Heart-shaped strawberries among other things. You are worrying about the next day, what it will bring. And I can't promise you forever. I'll never say what you want to hear. Lying isn't in style and right now my only fashion is caring. About that clock and the sun and your smile. So let's just try to make today perfect. Tomorrow will be something new.
09/13 Direct Link
I ain't in no hurry. Everyone is scurrying around. I just sit here and enjoy the feel of ground beneath me. Why worry about the world when I can stare at the clouds?

You tell me to relax. I'm already distracted by the wind through the trees.

Preach to the choir.

Fog rolled down the valley as we woke up today.
Walking to class almost required a horn to warn others.
People swerved and ducked in the low visibility.
All of us wishing we were back in bed.
By noon the sun burned the fog off.
The feeling was gone.
09/14 Direct Link
I am a localized disaster. No red alert. No ground zero. Contained by yellow tape are my ruins. Crumbled dignity. Charred pride. Burnt and destroyed. I have lost my voice.

Take me to the water.
Drive me underneath.
Bubbles drifting upward.
Try and keep me down.
Everything's erupting.
Seeing red is make believe.

You keep up your shield and attack without fail. Digging deep for what's inside. Your curiosity is impossible to hide. I'll give you hints along the way. Leading you down into each successive level. Let's hope you don't follow the path of those who came before you.
09/15 Direct Link
I imagine us desperate for each other. Separated by thousands of yellow lines on a never ending road. Traveled and worn by an equal number of travelers. Both of us walking on the hot asphalt. Shoes falling apart, soles flapping with each step. Clothes threadbare, holes showing our true colour. Gasoline ceases to exist and cars are a long ago luxury. We walk the faded road with no other thought.

Disaster struck hard and fast. The quick phone calls, helicopters overhead. We knew our late night conversations would never last. A quick promise, words spewing quickly. We needed each other.
09/16 Direct Link
I love watching smoke boil underneath the brim of my hat. Swirling around, trapped until it is whisked away. Twirls gray in the sky until it disappears into the night with the wind. Warm tobacco between my fingers. The taste lingering on my lips.

With whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other my night is content. The drunks, the party-ers, and the rest are sprawled about the house. All in various states of slumber. Tomorrow will be hell for them. But then again, these folks are professionals.

One drink, one cigar and the night is perfect.
09/17 Direct Link
"N*gger, W*tback, Ch*ink" came to my college this week. A race comedy sketch type deal used to promote diversity. At a college where there are roughly 30 black people, probably not even a single Mexican, and only a few hundred Asian students. Whereas there are around 3,000 white, male, rednecks.

I guess the university feels the need to spread diversity.

Good luck. You can't change the ideals set down by poor parenting.

I didn't go. My kindness needs no reminding.
Why do we still need to teach this?

The night was full of other shenanigans instead.
09/18 Direct Link

I wish I could write you something sweet. Something to sweep you off your feet. Something short yet intense. Something that takes away all pretense. All the pretense that I'm fine. All the show that life without you is kind. But then I find myself walking alone. You creep into my head, all illusions are gone. I realize I'm lonely and scared. With thoughts of you, all I want is for you to be here . So I wish I could find the right words. Those that will capture you whole. Perfect words so divine. Perfect words would make you mine.
09/19 Direct Link
Your foot rested on my knee. Tying your laces. Cris-crossing each strand. Following the pattern on my feet. Like a snowshoe. Almost. Personalized All-Stars. Flows well with the multi-coloured bracelets on my arm. Too bad it's not enough.

20 seconds later and I'm tired of tying. I continue though. Because I hate living my friendships vicariously through electronics. I need you to be my real world go to girl. Who else do I have?

She lives 600 miles away. My summer delight. Is an education in heaven worth the loneliness?

I smile and start on the other.
09/20 Direct Link
I lost my wallet today. It's camouflaged. Yea, you guessed it.

"Hey, I lost my wallet... etc"

"How are you going to find it if it blends in?!"

"Wow. Very original. Thanks for the help."

But you were different. A smile and an honest reply.

Damn.

"Can I keep talking to you for a second? Just to find another ounce of relief? Would you like to have lunch? Can't you see that sitting here is a cupful of sensibility and I don't dare let it go?"

Instead.

"Thanks, have a nice day"

Where went the soul who was never afraid?
09/21 Direct Link
I"m getting violent. Urgent. Loud. Ferocious. Alarmingly spontaneous. Impulsive. Creative, in a sense that this is new. Not new. Old. An undercurrent of a past life that I've long since buried has been rising. Rising into my consciousness. And I'm not stopping it.

I want to get into a fight. Combat baby. Locked in struggle. Relieve these emotions. We all have them. It's nothing new. I am unoriginal. So let me write and let me type and let me scream.

Let me fight and fuck and smoke and drink and yell and run and live.

This is me. Really.
09/22 Direct Link
*Click*

It's coming. The colours. The smells. The feel.

Fall. My idealistic life.

Cool crisp air. Cold enough to wear a jacket or a sweatshirt.50, 60 degrees. Chilled skin. Breath is visible randomly. Perfect.

This weekend I'm going on a photo adventure. I hope.

Driving south with my mother's 18th birthday present. A 1979 Pentax k1000. 4 rolls of film. Relaxation.

The good ones I'll post to my blog. The bad will be lessons.

Looking forward to something you enjoy is enough to make the days speed by. Just thinking about writing makes me ignore calculus.

*Click*
Wind
*Click*
09/23 Direct Link
I'm here to save you from yourself. Holding that umbrella like a crutch. White knuckled. Unmoving.

I'm here to make you hit play. Headphones dead around your neck. Mix tape in your pocket. Silent.

I'm here to help you see. Whether it's putting some glasses on or taking them off. Whatever it takes. Clarity.

I'm here to lift your head up. Concrete grows old quick. In all weather the sky is worth it. Beautiful.

I'm here to change your mind. Nothing is ever as it seems. Rain can be peaceful. Serenity.

I'm here to help you smile.

Please, don't jump.
09/24 Direct Link
You intoxicate me.
Warm breath in my ear.
Fingers trailing across bared skin.
Logic trying to quell those emotions within.
You would not believe my mind love. The thoughts racing along.
A few hours and this moment will be gone. But for now time is stopped. A glow from the radio brightens the corner. The soft melody shines throughout the whole room.

Drunk with feeling.
Whispers barely heard.
Kisses given and returned.
Nothing to do but enjoy this moment. Nothing you can do but let yourself go. We are living in twilight. Drinking a liquefied love tonight.

It's so tempting.
09/25 Direct Link
We watched the sun disappear over the lake. Down into the horizon. Cliched, but true. The water was glass. My beloved cotton candy sky framed a lone fisherman. Fly-fishing, knee deep in the cold water. (Cold because I attempted to swim). As time went by the colours changed. We fought off the cold by eliminating the idea of empty space. Sparks from the fire flew high with the smoke. If you followed them you would see the sky reflect their grandeur. Down to the horizon again with the sun almost gone. A sliver of orange above a mirror.

Memories.
09/26 Direct Link
I am unlike anybody you have ever met.

Yet Palahniuk says that "nothing of me is original and that I am the combined effort of everybody I have ever known".

I am a contradiction. Call me what you will. Throw me in circles. Diagrams and charts cannot section me off. I can slip between the lines.

It is so difficult to stay in one shape. Morphing into each and every second. Let us hope that time will help us grow.


Here's another quote for you. "All I can do is be me, whoever that is".

I think Bob is right.
09/27 Direct Link
You won't remember me.

Life has no desire but to continue. Daily monotonous activity will overflow us again. To lull us into comfort. Dulling those sharp edges. Those exasperated pains that torment an instantaneous moment. One small moment that in the grand scheme, your expected 80 some odd years, won't matter an ounce. The leaves will fall and you'll drink your coffee. Resume your daily agenda and life will make you forget. Lack of spontaneity in your tiny world. It's not what we'd like to think. But it's true. Life goes on. And takes the past with it.


Remember me.
09/28 Direct Link
Your eyes reflected the sky tonight. Darker than hell. We all have our pasts. You yours, I mine. Draw two lines. Find the intersection. That is our connection. That is here. That is now. That is all I know.

"I feel like I'm shooting arrows into the dark. And I'm not lighting anything"

"You're hitting bulls eyes. Trust me."

It seems as if a touch tells more than a whisper. Disaster hits when I can't tell anything at all. Oppressive silence broken by a squeeze. You speak volumes with your smile. I just wish I could understand what you say.
09/29 Direct Link
I think I could stay with you. For now. For ever. For longer than any other.

Possibly.

On a random note. Flannel is the style up here. Mad Bombers, quilted flannel, and muckers. It's amazing to think that the guy you just passed (with the beard and the flannel coat with holes in it) who looks like he just crawled out of the woods probably has a PhD. The guy who says "Oh ya der eh!" when agreeing can most likely do calculus quicker than you tie your shoes.

My camera and my converse and my poetry normally doesn't fit.
09/30 Direct Link
Clean up your life.

Your room is spotless. Your desk, impeccable. Your computer is organized and partitioned perfectly. Day to day life, written and highlighted. Lunch ends at exactly 11:55. Your schedule, in stone. You imagine you have control.

You cry to sleep. You dream of spontaneity. You wish you could live. You crave a sense of passion. You don't understand what's wrong.

Four points and perfect smiles only count between nine and five. It's those other hours. The dark, personal ones that really matter. Those are the hours when you realize what loneliness is.

Clean up your life.