hope

there's so much darkness. invisible, disguised, unmarked, untouchable darkness. makes it hard to see the light sometimes. but then wooop! there it is. and sure, things are seriously fucked up, but i've got you and there's so much lovelight here. the ultimate illuminant. if only everyone had a tunnel bright as the one connecting us.

i love you.

Fiction

There once was a girl. She couldn’t write fiction because every metaphor she crammed her idea into sounded like the truth. She sat at her desk and tried to create a story from nothing, a story beginning in the imagination and never leaving, not for even a short vacation or parenthetical statement. She wanted a tale with no strings attached, no associations or allusions or parallels with any semblance of reality. She thought and thought and thought, and even as she grew up and lived her life and finally grew old, she still searched for the Sole Story. But she never found it; no matter how hard she looked or how many notebooks she filled with words. She listened and composed and riffled through and skimmed and considered and rejected. And then she died, as everyone does, in the end.

Hey.

Rolling stones only gather avalanches.

Intense

why is it so enjoyable to roll in your own filth for a few days at a time, to put off showering for no real reason until it tips the other side of the scale and becomes outright unreasonable? there's just a certain satisfaction in creating a layer of short term memories over your whole body. there's a certain animal craving for the dirt under the fingernails, the self-sustained perfume of sweat and grime, the bothersome locks pulled back in a tight braid, left plaited through sleepless nights and timeless days. and then, at the end, there's the shower. and it will be memorable. especially the moment when the water first hits your atmosphere and begins fervently burrowing through to the Clean hidden underneath, releasing your true and potent reek. and then when you get out and re-examine your very own body and remember oh! this is what is called sanitary, acceptable, beautiful, civilized! what a crock of shit! i miss the earth in my nails and my unique (even if off-putting) scent and no-maintenance hair!

fuck it, dude, lets go camping.

Dear MoveOn.org,

So, I get a whole lot of emails from you and all they seem to do is to depress me, anger me and make me feel bad about not taking action for 30 seconds or thereabouts, depending on the subject matter. I don't like these feelings. They do not agree with my disposition.
Every time I stop long enough to really read one of your rally-crying messages, I can't help noticing a trend. Let's see, first, you BREAK THE NEWS; then, you threaten my freedom, privacy and other human rights with the CORPORATE MACHINE; insert disturbing detail here; next: BATTLE CRY (cry as in sobscreamholler); then into a diatribe on another dastardly deed of the RIGHT WING; and lastly you ASK FOR THINGS, for money and signatures and ACTION STATIONS, ACTION STATIONS; blah blah blah; money money money; wah wah wah; thanks for all your help; sincerely (your name here).
But you never really break outside your own box. Politics isn't a line, it isn't all there is, it isn't even all that real. Right, left and center, 'liberal' and 'conservative,' douchebag and deity, FCC, FAFSA, FBI, fucking federal anything, corporatocracy, idiocracy, capitalist hypocrisy, potato and potato, it all the same bullshit rag we've had gagging us since infancy. It's limits are not ours. Let it go, and, much like a parasite cut off from its life source, it will let go you, and fade. Turn your face and energy towards something else; stop feeding the monster its favourite food: hate.
Why not try spreading light instead of fear of the dark? Just mention a super happy thing that happened to you today to every contact in your address book, brighten everybody's day! For example: Today, my fingers learned to play an oldnew song. It's called For What It's Worth, by Buffalo Springfield. Listen to it. That's poetry, that's beauty, that's worth my time.
Share words of hope, faith and small joys; those are what will truly save the world.

have the best day ever,
clare

I think...

maybe too much. BUT I like it. Life's never dull in my head. For example: the other day I was waiting for the bus to come whisk me away to destinations of old and I was all like: I fall in love a lot. Does that cheapen my love? HELL NO! It strengthens it. Because I know what it is to be in love with the flight of a bird, I can fully love the bird itself and because I know what it is to love someone so much I hate them, I can love someone in spite of hating them. I don't see how you could love anything without loving all things. We were all created by the same hand; how can the creation and the creator be separated? Without the either there would be neither. That's why things are cool.