Secrets and subtleties

Something personal and unusual happened to me. The norm is to not speak about it, in part because its so difficult to put into words and in part because no one really wants to relive bad experiences.

The blogs I like to read, however, are just normal people being themselves. There are some beautiful blogs out there, for those who are interested in images, like, and other blogs like Moby’s.

Maybe one has to be a good writer as well as someone with a focused interest to create a good blog. Otherwise there’s nothing but dribble.

Forgiving and making the most of it

Life is short. I know as I sit here — smoking, drinking coffee — maybe  mine will be a little shorter. Maybe I can make more of it.

I forgive too easily, but then again maybe I don’t. Having an appreciation for how fragile we are, how fragile others can be, how fragile life is, is hard to conquer. I need to get back to that place.

Antsy and seeking direction

Direction or something more tangible, no more of a feeling. Maybe a feeling that all will be alright. Trying to reconnect with old friends, with new friends, with anyone who can carry on an effin CON VER SA TION. I don’t care for television still, unless I’m with one friend in particular who has surround sound and an LCD TV. I need to get IN somehow and where Facebook fails, dating boards almost fill a small crevasse in the gap. It’s almost conversation. Don’t even mention the one person with whom I have ‘conversations’ with on the telephone. I have more comprehensive and engaging conversations with my 16-year-old niece.

Maybe I need space to work on the creative writing.


A twig near the water says stick close to the spring for socialization. Winter is for whiteout and markers. Hangout at the space bar and stick to the keys, though my new computer spaces them further apart than I am comfortable with.