Today I wrote..finally.

It’s been like forever since I sat down and wrote something.
I’ve had alot on my plate lately and have very ofen contemplated about writing, but it just never seemed that I allowed the time to make this happen.

Writing is like a breath of fresh air it seems.
As if my whole body just exhales and I can fall complacently upon my desk and breathe in again as my head lay plastered there on my desktop.

I’ve thought long and hard about past relationships.
I’ve thought long and hard about family.
I’ve thought long and hard about ex’s that have passed.
I’ve thought long and hard about family that has passed.
I’ve thought long and hard about my Napoleon.
I’ve thought long and hard about my life and where I’m at in this great complexity of a fish bowl analogy.

I have wondered about the people that have passed.
Their relationships with those others.
Do they still continue?
Have my brother’s had a longer relationship with my nana and grandpa then I, considering that they are all passed now?
And my ex’s.
Can they really see me from above?
Probably not, but can they sense how I feel?
Is this why orbs exist?
Is this why doves appear at my door?

A big word.
Alot, alot, alot of connotations.
Are you a philosopher now?
Do you just like to shoot the shit at whatif’s?

Isn’t God a much, much bigger word?

The skies here in California seem to always be blue.

The ocean here in California.
This great majestic beauty of strength.
Is timid at times.

People walking, talking, laughing, smiling.
People yelling, crying, arguing, fighting.

Just where to begin to write your memoirs?


i remember when

Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn were important.
Building a fort and protecting it from the white collar kids meant something.
Throwing smoke bombs and waiting to capture their fort meant the world.
Raiding gardens and Ole Man Dick coming out after us with a shotgun.
He shot at us cuz we raided his garden.

Throwing snowballs and Ole Lady Horpinuck waiting..
Trying to catch us.
The uh huh uh huh I caught you lady coming after us with her broom.

I remember when life seemed to be so easy.
so pleasant.
so hard.
so fun.

What do kids have to look forwards to?
Video games n drugs.
They don’t think that a Friday night’s reprieve is going to the library.

They stand outside the library nowadays doing drugs n drinking.

I want the yesterdays back when life made sense.

life goes on

And so the woman that stood at the top of the hill that overlooked the gully below questioned the reasoning as to the meaning of existance.

Souls had been dying around her.
Family members.
First lovers.

What was to come of all of this?

“Life.'” cackled that crow.
“This is life.”
“You must accept it in order to proceed.”

“Proceed to what?” I questioned.

“Welcome to reality.”

My sultry soul needn’t wanted to listen to that advice.
Parents were a part of your being.
Brothers and sisters were a part of that being.
People that you had known for such a long time it semed were a part of that being..

But that didn’t matter it seemed.
Because they died.
Because whatever you thought that would prevent this moment..
it meant diddly.

What is it’s meaning really?

You can put on the blinders.
Escape and forget for the moment,
the time being,
but this reality,
this truism will always win.
so then.

what is the meaning of it all?


what to add.
but the thrill of it all.

has someone just been your whole world?
your whole existence,
and then in the blink of an eye,
their eye,
they were gone?
no questions asked.
no nothing.
no more?

that is life they told you.
ina way.

“I don’t give a fuk abt you,” she says.
“I just need to find me.”

Life and it’s rules are crazy.

She needs to find herself.

Can you accept that?

In the long run,
you have to.

Sorry but that is the way that it is.

and then you pick up the pieces and go on.

to what?

abissimal life.