dear super beloved alexander:
dear beautiful world:
dear readers who exist in pixels:
this blog may come to be again, in some form. i miss writing. i miss having this record. i have had far too much spinning chaos, and this helps to quell it. my life feels like it is creating its own brand new form of extra lucky luck over the past little while, and its a teetering shiny-penny-out-on-a-ledge luck, not a run of the mill variety by any means, and things are falling into place gracefully, against all odds. i am going to just go for that balance of trusting my instincts and my WOW-yes gauge and my wonderful dose of common sense, until it proves it doesnt make sense to. i felt like i have had so many signs to begin to write again. just today, i read at least twice but maybe three times that keeping a daily diary inspires creativity. im all in. here i am, all in.
the diary may not all flesh out right here. but i think right here will start to happen again.
alex- i think i still have one of your post-college diaries maybe in my parents basement… lets discuss and make sure that finds it way back to you if i do in fact have it hostage with some media theory textbooks in some favorite sentimental corner of my life. it was white and maybe had a gandi quote on the cover and i may have given you the blank diary as a gift, and you mailed me the full diary as a gift. swoon. i remember some of the sentences, sometimes. they were so sweet and funny.
do you know the front porch art car from burning man? it was at the campout symbiosis that i went to a few weeks ago, and the clown troupe fo ha ha was playing on the porch when my friends and i got there, just after an intense downpour of a rainstorm. there was a friend of the clowns who was sitting on the ledge of the porch who invited me to sit next to him (or maybe i probably kinda invited myself), and he reminded me of you so very much. very charming, slightly snarky, an instant opinion i trusted, someone i hoped enjoyed my conversation as much as i enjoyed his. the front porch art car couldn’t be sweeter, honestly, and they have an oven in the back of the house connected to the porch, and they bake cookies (and i have heard pies, amazingly, as well). i said, i hope they bake some cookies soon. and my new friend who reminded me of you said ‘how about a brisket! doesn’t anyone in the kitchen know we are hungry out here!’, and it was so surreal and good and we laughed and laughed at the absurd idea of sitting on the edge of a moving porch art car, which a gang of clowns were prancing about on and around, with the jokes and silliness even heavier in the air than the rain that had recently parted, and then the idea of a brisket dinner somehow being served, in the middle of a meadow, in the middle of nowhere California. it was funny to us because it could happen. somehow, with some harnessed magic, right there. and he and i were also ever so slightly being bitchy, which feels good to do and be in the vast sea of comfortable niceness that is California. ; )
alex, also, i want to find a theme that shows all of the archives we have listed on the side. so i might change the theme a million times. i know you have real world commitments right now, but let me know if you want to collab on that or if i should just futz around til i find one i think is good and right… i am open to tweaking whatever i find, at any point in time, also, which i think you know.
i am typing this from a crappy little computer that is practically a tablet. my macbook with my whole life is residing in a different city than the one i am living in right now. my entire life, except for me, really, is still in a different city right now. reunification and cleansing and doing my best to lovingly puzzle piece my way out of this and into this are in the works. however, for the right now, while i would like to upload a picture here, or a snippet of a poem i saved on a sticky in my other computer in my other life, just now i just have these words, and they dont feel like they are going to stop. and so, i suppose, it begins.
i write in my head before i go to sleep. i have conversations where i hear the most perfect turn of phrases uttered and then watch them drift off like butterflies, never to be seen again. i have been encouraged to write by teachers since i have first been able to write. and besides ANY of that, besides all of that, bartenders in philadelphia and nyc and probably london have asked why we stopped writing, a friend living in on the other side of the world in bondi beach said she felt like she knew what was going on in our lives because of this blog, and two hundred and twenty seven blog posts were read one day last week. by one person. who probably knows and really likes one or both of us, but, whatever. it happened. someone likes our certain little brand of lovely yummy weirdness we have… and i also happen to enjoy it quite a bit. so, game on, round two. or two and a half. or, well, i am turning 32 in a few days, and this blog was initially started in my early twenties when i had my first real office job that was not volunteer work, because i spent so much time in front of a computer i needed a creative outlet. how old were we? i was living in stamford, connecticut, just after living in philly doing americorps after college. i was… 23? 24? i see no reason a blog can’t be a decade old. even if it may have to turn into a tumblr one day, or an instant smartphone brainlapse dreamtime download.
i love you.
ps, here is some cold hard data. there might even be better stats. that one was just one of 5 days time that showed up when i finally reset my password and did the whole thing and signed in here again. i say yes.
Saturday, September 21, 2013