Shirt Stains Are Part of the Package

It's a Sunday of large sky, sun, and decent wind.  I've been reading my friend Travis' zine that I got from my friend Mary while she was traveling through town:

"In the meantime, let's act like what we do matters".                  

And so I shall, again. Reminded.  Thanks, Travis.  And from the other side of the county: I love you, and your words matter.

I've been thinking of hearts and compasses as of late.  I'm convinced that there are compasses in our hearts that lead us back to each other and ourselves when we listen to them enough to feel them: their silver needles unsteadily swiveling until they connect to their destined, but temporary, direction.  

That's all for now.  Let's build in the way that makes us rely on strangers.

xx

k.

On a personal note, I've realized that the smell of the rubber on gym shoes turns me on.  Perhaps it is the scent in and of itself. Perhaps it is the anticipation and threat of warm blacktop. I am, and forever will be, a sucker for everything so soft and seemingly cushioned that will also totally fuck you up if you fall.

Raphael Saadiq and the Ring Around My Heart

I've been listening to a lot of R&B and looking at the tops of trees lately and, in this moment, have Dwele's "Find A Way" stuck in my head.

In any case... I've been thinking about Derrida again.  Not his hair or his pants, but rather some of his ideas related to language and meaning.  They have been keeping me company lately: wrapping their strange warmth around my shoulders into a hug and, when I'm least expecting it, placing their fingers on my chin to tilt my head in a different direction in order to look at the world in a different way. Again.

There has been a strong theme of reconciliation going on lately.  People popping up out of nowhere.  I will be staring off into space, only to realize I am staring at the sky through the spread fingers of a friend from another chapter standing right in front of me.  It startles me for a second but, in the end, seems so obvious and right- in a simple way.

I am learning. Growing. Listening to R & B.  

What else is new?

Damp Hands In Dirt

I have been making out with my coffee cup when I drink from it again. Springtime is here, and I've been slipping in the practice anywhere I can in preparation or daydream of the endless crushes I have this time of year. It's not just people I have crushes on. I fall in love with every proud bloom showing me its cleavage from the gardens I walk past; the laugh lines on the faces of every friendly bus driver. I have afternoon romances with the sun on my stomach, and the part of my forearm that catches the drip of my multi-scoop cone. I fan myself from the flirt of the soil collectively turning over on its back to show the world how alive it is.