i just finished another book. i need to write about it. but i have a soccer game to play. it's rainy and cold in seattle, in july, because why would I deserve a summer all year round?


i feel something coming. who knows what the next few months will bring.

Wow, Remember when I blacked out?!

Sorry for such a long hiatus. Things, have been well. I'm trying to recorral my creative life. Here was an exercise in "making mistakes" by which I mean, becoming comfortable with creating things regardless of whether they are "up to my standards" simply to get things moving. I watched a great video about creativity and schools. If you don't want to watch the video, my take away from it as it pertained to my personal life was the important message that fear of mistakes kills creativity. And, looking at myself, I knew this to be true. One of my main blocks in trying to write a lot of what I think would make great writing is a fear and doubt in my ability to accurately render great writing or great ideas. I'm so damn afraid of writing shit, and most of what I write I already think is shit, that I can never get my foot out the door. So, this charcoal sketch was the beginning step in creating something that I might not be happy with and letting that be okay. And gosh darn, it's working, I don't feel bad about this sketch at all. And I made it without fear. I also then wrote a six page personal essay that hopefully, will get printed in a literary journal operating out of Portland. I'll let them do the publishing, not me.

here's the sketch:

Pond Frogs.

Ruuhhh, ruuhhhh. the bullfrogs are still here. on the cape, across the pond. I can hear them clearly because we keep the windows open. It's very humid here out on the cape and after living in the desert, well, never mind, i've always reacted poorly to humidity. Tossing and turning barely letting the cloth sheet drape over one shin as token sleep cover. the humidity weighing more heavily on me than anything on my mind.

ruuhhh, ruuuhhh. I stifle a laugh because my cousin is sleeping across the room. i'm thinking about humans making that noise to attract one another. the sleezy guy leaning on the bar groaning, ruuhhhh, ruuuhhh at a elegant lady. stupid i know, but funny enough, combined with the thought that I thought about that at all. enough to stifle a laugh.

i feel like i've let a lot slip lately. it's been an interesting time these past few weeks. letting some things go, trying to pick up others. a sort of general reshuffling of affairs, values stances. interesting time indeed. spring cleaning, cliche. but still, i'm a sucker for cliches because every so often i'm struck (almost physically) by the genuineness of cliches. they do, at the outset, capture something profound. sometimes it's easy to forget all their baggage. sometimes i'm struck by cliches. and the past few weeks, or hell, maybe months, have felt like rummaging through boxes of old stuff. But oddly enough, none of it has had anything to do with the past. well, i suppose that's not entirely accurate. nothing to do with the past? what an absurd notion. anyway, that's another path. but this spring cleaning has such freshness to it. It's all new. it's just me that feels old. what's up with that?

Before hopping the bus up to the Cape (i had previously thought (being from the West Coast as I am) that boston, cape cod and the state that houses them were between New York and DC) I had been waltzing my way around New York by the lead of a friend from brooklyn. new york. i like it. large, dirty. a real city. and yet, so livable. i felt so alive amongst all those people. even though i felt as though i was a temporary sojourner floating by. lead around by a local i still was stray, not there, but there. feeling the people, the closeness. not relating, just feeling. and encapsulating and conceiving in cliches. i'm just feeling it man. yeah. groovy.

the frogs are still at it. endlessly ruuhhh, ruuuhhhing out into the darkness. hoping for someone to respond, someone to keep them company. there, in the pond. i have a tennis match in the morning with the family. a tennis match, on the cape. sucker for cliches. sometimes you live a story and sometimes you fill your blog with cliches.

but ah what the hey. i'll polish some of this someday. and who knows if it'll be any good. if I need any motivation, I only have to read more Dave Eggers. His novels read like my blog I feel like. It's like a Vonnegut style without much of the well thought out creativity.

well, tomorrow is here.

Some Like it Hot

Somehow I got nominated as spokesperson. it wasn't the best choice. good thing I had some help.

Summer Evening in Seattle

Dusk and Dawn are the best times for thinking.

the lights of the city slowly blinking on like the thoughts in my mind. here, there in no way connected save for the impending darkness.

the hill and sky blur with only the words "Olive Tower" remaining clear in their white and mustard yellow.

piano and violin unwind the contortion of the day.
3 lonely tea candles, clustering for light. profile me against the white wall.

The last sounds of thunder rolling quietly out to sea.