beat of the jungle beats

I'm sure that the way the street slants towards the ocean makes it seem like Seattle is a sweet place to walk. Always towards the sunlit gleamy piers, wasting into brighter air above the salt and dead crabs. And my lake, the one I had to drive around to reach the other side each day said something else to another boat or a seaplane. I can tell you exactly where you should be standing, where the light can hit the top portion of your sneakers and the rest of you can finish your cigarette in the shadow near the closed greek cafe. you can walk all around and take photos with your eye held up to a rolled paper from the baguette you just inhaled after your cigarette. Get some sleep and in the morning tell her about the day you've had patrolling the streets for sentiment. I am hiding here, but you haven't asked me what I think about any of the shops. I could tell you about the way the fish makes me feel. We could slip sushi into our tummies and then walk forward to find something else like tea or a coffee or a person to comment on. I am so good at commenting. I will even be brave and take your photo near them so we can remember how they looked and what we ate and the beautiful sun we shared. Just ask me where to find myself, I would love to share this tilted city with you.

breezy

love and heartbreak

sincere thoughts and pride and joy and baby steps towards an understanding, but never to forget your love for us all. weeping wildly again for your climb and fall. touching and sentimental.

and I said a'nooo nooo no

I will never have my hair cut again. I hate haircuts. I do not like someone cutting my hair off. They never do it nice. I promise to take care of my mane. I will condition it and treat it with herbs and oils, and I will cut it myself and let the wind take care of the rest. No more scissors, no more chairs, no more letting go my hair! xo

good medicine

Toshio Shibata

carly margolis

what the...

I met you and knew instantly that you were made for me. But, you have a girlfriend. I look into your eyes and see happiness. I love your laugh and your face and your love of things that you told me about. But, you have a girlfriend. I love your hair and your shirt and your shoes. I love your demeanor with our waiter. But, you have a girlfriend. I love your hobbies. Love your language and your quiet, funny presence. I love your arms on the bar. I love your teeth when they smile. I love your heart and the way you make everyone feel at home. I love everything about you. oooh please tell me when you no longer have a girlfriend so I can kiss you.

cartonlandia

Ana Serrano makes nice things. Look.

tiger dancers

people keep tigers in the back of their mind more often than they would admit. everyone loves a tiger dance.

in the middle of the night of the summer

i am a little lonely for everyone i have ever known and sometimes in the middle of the night i panic. i think about the things we've done and how they float further and further from now. every second longer lasting and more distant. when i think about us. we were so good. we were so right even when we hated it. i think about you living with someone new. my head swims. my heart gets too big for my throat. and then i am reminded about all of the people who share that space. i think about how before i met you i didn't know there was room for you in there, but clearly i didn't know anything at all. and that thought is the only thing that keeps me hopeful for someone else. i think that if i do find them they should do some cleaning up in there, because honestly is it good to store all of those things in that space for this long? and i wonder about you too. are you happy with the person who took my place? does she have you wrapped around her finger like you used to let me drag you around? you liked it because you told me. and when i am this lonely i think i liked it too, even though in the morning i will remember more clearly that i didn't like that part at all. and you too. there you are at the very bottom, almost like a sandy bottomed well. you are the heaviest, even though i barley knew you at all. you sit, sodden and sunken in the deepest part. that isn't even you fault, you were just the first. and thats okay, because you let everything else rise to the top and i like it like that. and i am here alone in this room, in someone else's house thinking about mistakes and times when i was selfish or sad when i should have been kind and happy. and you should have too. to have a mirror on my life with you i would have changed us. could have spent more time alone preparing for my time apart from things. last time, i tried to think about what i wanted after you, and then you came along before i could decide. this time, i am doing it right. i am waiting it out, just to see if you are out there. you are all so important to the way i think about the love i have. you are distinguished gentlemen, but only because i say so. i am determined to never let you go, and every part of you that loved me is still here.

i love her stuff

sometimes I forget how much I love my favorite artists and then I see them and almost faint with pleasure. Becca Mann in the house.