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I have fallen in love.
with the smell of November and the look in your eyes while I'm fixing my hair
I am becoming undone and feeling just right the wind brings word of change and she is an excited messenger
speaking in whispers on the scuttling of leaves across pavement I'm bathing in the sudden realization of a warmth bidding a sad farewell to the earth as winter steps in. the shade approaches quickly now with always unstoppable grace,
and for once I do not feel forsaken.
there's nothing special about mittens unless inside exists a hand to hold.
the painted veil: a foreboding dance, a transgressive cancer. lifted it is the path to light and most importantly forgiveness. life how you've changed me into something more believable. so many things i thought highly of have turned...revealing a cold and harsh cheek. the veil is lifted on my faults and my past [a twisted love affair] and staring me straight in the eyes is tomorrows light, in all his beauty.
the dew is dropping tenderly off our waking mother, a new era born to our name
i want to spend this waking life
with none other
[there are more than 100things that make me love you]:
"understanding. comfortable. different. unique. truly set apart. passionate. deep. honest. musical. talented. human. respectful. God-fearing. pure hearted. believer. articulate. writer. considerate. amazing smile. tall. maltese. cuddler. food lover. value family. confident. hopeful. fun. good driver. hard worker. affectionate. straightforward.
you make eye contact when you speak. you smile with ease and laugh even easier. you have the ability to laugh at yourself. you understand forgiveness. you are many things, and the more i know you, the fonder i grow. i can learn a lot from you, alex john." [3/1/05]
"I don't know what to say except for: thanks, again for inspiring something I thought died in me a long time ago. Laying together in formless leisure as I surreptitiously watch the numbers on your difital clock wax and slowly wane toward an inevitable end to the night. It's in your calm silence that I know you're truly a poet. It's a value and a quality I've seen in seldom few. I like the feeling of having you around. You have passion and needs. Its good to feel something so simple and real. You're winter warmth. I'm glad we're becoming friends." [3/4/05]
The holidays are bittersweet times. Itís a warm time, but also a time where American materialism manifests in its ugliest form. Jingle bells, the greedy ring of cash registers, cell phones exclaiming long distance calls from loved ones you no longer knowÖ Really itís a time to love. I'm excited to share my words with you. I hope you love it, and I hope you know that my words are as real as the day I knew we belonged together. Remember yester-holiday? One year we fought. We were strangers, to say the least. And now.
I can't imagine life without you.
today i walked in on you napping and i sat there smiling at your face all scrunched up and disorganized against your pillowcase and i didnt know what else to do in that moment but set down your car keys on the table and sit down beside you on your bed and laugh and love you and it's in those moments that i feel closest to the spinning of the earth and gods purpose for me and for you and for the rest of our lives. it's in those moments i am most grateful to share an existence with you.
I realized today that I've been a 100 words reader for 5 years and it wasn't until 7 days ago I decided to finally dive in. I don't know if I was saving it for some rainy day preceding my 30th birthday to feel some off-beat sense of accomplishment or I was just scared it would be another thing to add to my list of failures. But this month feels just right to enjoy new things and exceed old limits. Iíve fallen in love again with verbs. Write. Paint. Bake. Smile. Sigh. Tease. Grow. Snooze. Fall. In love. With you.
Thought I saw Dave Moran today. You would've laughed at the resemblance with me had you been there. But you weren't. Because we're currently fighting a holy crusade for our feelings. Both right. Both hurting. Both stubborn. Both listening intently but not hearing a word. I hate days like today. When you're not only absent in person, but absent in heart. You're not even a phone-call away. We've built our palace walls high. I want to yell, "I'm SICK don't you get it?" But you, you're hurting too. Letís call off the charade, I love you.
my hands are cold.
Iím so thankful youíre beginning to reveal more of yourself to me because thereís so much I want to know about you and the clockwork that ticks and stops and pauses to take in lifeís creation. Though one thing is certain; you are a poet through and through and itís not always in your words and itís not always in your actions but in your heart and behind your eyes are galaxies of stars and unplanned voyages ahead that Iíll be there for if youíll have me in the forever and ever til death do us part kind of way.
my dream life has been distasteful lately, she said with a grin and he asked then why the smile? and she responded that perhaps i am beginning to prefer real life over the stuff i used to make up and my dreams are just getting jealous and feel like they need to compensate for all the prosperity, she said as she pretended to chalk and chalkboard the analysis in the air as she spoke. dreams can be tricky bastards, she said, but i laugh in their face! because i have you, and we have a whole lifetime ahead of us.
Writing 100 words a day is a fascinating exercise. Not only is it refreshing to have a fire lit under my ass to pour my heart out into words on a daily basis, but I often love the product of trying to squeeeeze words in to fit the guide-lines. For instance I quite like to hy-phe-nate because I can combine two words I love and create something new. A new sensation, a feeling, two of my favorite words to recreate a new secret meaning just for the two of us really because I think itís just us on this page.
I WILL BUY A TICKET FOR BLEWCODES BLEW MELODY TO FLORIDA HE YOU WANT TO INVISD HIM FOR ALL HE DOES FOR MY HISM HISM DAUGHTER I WILL SEE MY LITTLE GIRL WEDMDREAW MIGHT
Itíll be wonderful and I hope youíre as excited as I am to relax and unwind calm down chill out let go put your feet up take it easy have a break rest respirate lay love and be peaceful. I can see us on the beach and boy do we look good. All sun and smiles, you and me.
This semester has been crazy. Letís disconnect.
I've lost my thought-train again, she said, looking bewildered and hoping he felt equally as displaced as she did when nothing short of the fear and divinity of God struck her dumb and quietly confided that this is without a doubt the man you love and will love for many years to come and in a futuristic haze she saw the names of their mothers grandchildren beginning with middle names because theyíre most fun. Both ecstatic and petrified that divinity may have come so early, she apologized for the mental deviation and said
how do you feel about korean barbeque?
I saw it today in my head played to the soundtrack of my boot heels clicking on the pavement. Click-clack, and thus it began: I never knew him well til we really hit rock bottom. It wasn't until then that our friendship showed us a strength neither of us had believed in. We grew closer and learned to deviate from emotion and clung to safety's edge. There we stayed, neither willing to make the first move, until one day life took us off of the ice. Real life moves slowest when youíre always waiting for someone else to move first.
But thatís the way we learned to move; patiently, persistently, slowly (
superficially supposedly ďunrewardingĒ, though today Iím convinced that anyone who ever said that just didnít have the patience to watch something organic become refined
). Behind clandestine smiles only we knew the rhythm to, things began to take form. I soon realized that regardless of the sorrow that once plagued us, the connection I felt with this human-being was right. And good. And enduring. And I have found happiness. And I hope more than anything on earth heís happy too. In the end I think thatís what matters the most.
If you really love me, then let's make a vow...
right here, together...
- Okay? - Okay.
All right. Repeat after meó
I'm gonna be free.
I'm gonna be free.
And I'm gonna be brave.
I'm gonna be brave.
And the next one isó
I'm gonna live each day as if it were my last.
Oh, that's good. You like that? Yeah. Say it.
I'm gonna live each day as if it were my last.
-I'm feeling too old to drive.
[credit: me you&everyone we know]
Merry technical anniversary. I have to be honest, I didnít even think of it until you mentioned it but now that you have, what better time than now to offer a month of words? November. Our November. A year ago today we sat in your car and it was nighttime in the city. The air was so chock full of implication I was dizzied. Stunned. The way I felt that night canít be put into 100 words or a whole year of Novembers but in a knowledge so certain &made simple by grace, the feelings stayed with me ever since.
It wonít matter much in ten years what that fight was about. It wonít matter that it was on our make-believe anniversary or that I was so mad I actually pushed you. In ten years, I think what will matter is that it didnít break us. And that the only thing we can remember from that night is that despite the separate times on the clock noting the hour sleep took us, we woke up together. We have a strength, love. I donít understand my fear of losing you when the feeling of belonging beats so robustly.
An enduring drum.
Again the relationship between adversity and redemption is on the brain and I canít help but find peace in knowing that no matter what happens further along down the road, we ride home together. My mom and I talked about my dad today and the choices heís made in his life. I pity him I said, and she told me that
happiness is a choice
and even though heís fled responsibility and built his castle in the sky, alas he remains a despondent shell of a creature.
My dear, have I told you lately by choosing happiness I choose you?
Thanksgiving time fast approaches. I wonít lie and pretend I buy into the hallmark clichťs or that I fall in love with the fourth grade values of patriotism that accompany the holiday, but I keep the make believe images in my head of brothers of man and sons of the same god in peaceful fellowship very close to my heart, passing dishes and teaching each other new words and sharing stories of their mothers and their grandfathers and their sons and daughters. This is how I see thanksgiving today. However I am never offended by the abundance of good food.
Why am I so petrified of you? The questionís been a crazy jogger running circles in my head since you left. The explanation I find the most real is that I was attracted to you, maybe even loved you, far before ďyou and IĒ were ever even a thought. I recognize the warmth of your voice and genuine love for me, but in the same sense, every day I am shocked that youíre still around. I love you. Utterly. So much I canít believe the one who caught my eye the way you did could complete that circle of affection.
He introduced her as his own tonight for the very first time and she nodded in agreement not only to the title but to the voice in her head exclaiming yes! I can indeed get used to this. Her head was feeling woozy but at the same time she had never felt so healthy and full of life. Love will do that to a person, she thought and smiled and held tight and sat up a little straighter because her and her wine cup were filled to the brim and, in some form of inarticulate fondness, letting everyone know it.
My dad turned 55 today and heís alone. Even I know in my short years that life is never easy but I feel like heís quit the fight. Iím at such a loss for words and ways to communicate. I want to tell him I love him and that his role was monumental in my life but in some odd way it seems like an inappropriate thing to say at this point, like he may think the confession was provoked by his evident sadness. So here it will stay: Happy birthday, dad. You will be forever young in my eyes.
Sometimes I am timid. Sometimes I surge with power. Sometimes I can answer lifeís questions with confidence and sometimes I shy away from lifeís persistence. You can hardly call me consistent with certain things. Other things I can be so plainly unpretentious about. Like my love for people and appreciation for grace. Iíll never forget the night you forgave me or the look in your eyes that told me we would make it. Iíve never felt so despondent in my entire life. Iíve never felt so loved. You sat me down and told me weíll make it. We made it.
At this point, itís rather difficult to predict whether or not Iíll finish the end of the semester in one piece. Itís been a helluva time getting to here and now Iím not entirely sure Iíll succeed in wrapping it up. Since youíre reading this in December, though, you already know how Iíve done. So zap me some confidence from the future! for chrissakes. Let me know Iíve made it intact. Iím struggling a bit. Whatís keeping me going, you might ask? You. And occasionally my family. Kitties. Hot showers. Snow boots. Hugs. Whaddya mean I sound like a child?
Today I remembered a you and I from long ago. It was at Ryans on Culver and I was there with a friend though I caní remember who. It was dark inside the house, I remembered the cat and the carpeting. What was I doing there? The details are unclear but I remember the instant you came in the door. Iíve forgotten a lot about that night but I remember clear as day the way your hair was held back by your sunglasses and the fit of your jeans. I remember the way my heart ached because we were strangers.
Iím sorry if my writing is garbage but it really does come from the heart. Thatís the whole thing about this November. I told you once about my plans to lay out all my journals at my funeral and you know how protective I am about them. But never secretive. You told me one night last month that you didnít want to wait that long to know what I had to say about you and I and life itself. Alas here we are. Youíre sitting at the kitchen table eating cocoa puffs, hopefully unaware of the surprise. Merriest of Christmasís.
He is a great and unheard poet, she thought to herself and hated the ones that ever took advantage of the fact that he was a real soul. Heís inspiration. She said goodbye to him long ago that day in February to let him seek happiness& thatís all she ever wanted for him. It didnít last. The thought of him crying upset her somewhere she couldnít point to with a finger. She grew accustomed to scribbling wildly in her journal about how he just wasnít one of those people who deserved this kind of shit.
He deserves to find happiness.
Itís difficult choosing the perfect gift for someone. Part of me wants to get you a new car or a coat that never gets cold or a giant fish tank filled with all the goofy looking deep sea creatures we could wrap our minds around. Then again part of me canít do it (and that is the part that is in college and has quite a thin wallet). But perhaps itís just as well though because I love the product of creativity that radiates from my love for you.
Just know deep down you really deserve all the pricy shit.
And then she sat up tall& spoke boldly, this isnít a conclusion to the end of a finished product but instead a bookmark lodged in a crease between yesterday and tomorrow. We are creatures of infinite escalation, you and I, and we find no bounds in the pursuit of love. I donít know the name or the time of the next dawning age but I do know whatever its name and whenever it begins, my heart will not turn cold for you, but evolve with the changing times. Cheers, she said, to 100 words, and to all that lies ahead.
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